Thad ghosted with his unconscious sister in his arms, making her intangible as well. Rune couldn’t snatch her away. He’d never wanted to fight so badly. Never had so many reasons why he couldn’t.
The boy’s eyes darted. “Who the hell are you?” As soon as Thad had figured out Josephine’s identity, he’d gone from attacking to protecting her.
“I’m her mate,” Rune rasped. “Give her to me.”
When the other Møriør flanked Rune—in battle positions—Thad hissed.
Valkyries screamed from inside: “Bring her back to us!” “You won!” “You took that bitch down!”
Baring his fangs, Thad pulled Josephine closer to him.
Sounding as calm and reasonable as ever, Blace said, “We won’t hurt you, boy. We mean no harm to you or your sister.”
Allixta said telepathically, —Speak for yourself. He bares his fangs at Møriør?— An iridescent green light filled her palms.
—Can you hold him?— Rune asked her. —Without hurting him? Please, witch! He could trace her anywhere in the universe.—
She raised her hands, and slender tendrils of green slithered around Thad, through him, but he didn’t seem to feel them, just gazed on warily.
—Amazing,— Allixta said. —Even one of my power can’t touch a shapeshifter like him.—
The boy’s mouth dropped open when Curses joined them. The creature wound between the Møriør, its movements predatory.
—Control your beast, Allixta!— Rune eased closer to Thad. “Brother, I need you to . . . just give her to me.”
“Not a chance, mister. It looked like she was using telekinesis to keep you away.”
“I need to explain some things to her. And she’s injured. She must feed from me.”
Thad was on the verge of tracing.
“Wait! Please! If you go, take this.” Rune drew out his talisman. “Give it to her. I want her to have it.”
Sian muttered aloud, “Hells.”
The others understood the significance of the talisman. It had always reminded Rune to look toward the future; Josephine is my future. “She’ll know what it means.” He tossed it to Thad.
The boy caught it telekinetically, pulling it to his hand. Then he traced his sister away.
“Gods damn it!” Rune yelled. “I have no idea where he will take her.” He leveled his gaze on Val Hall, on the wraiths that had resumed their guard. —Nïx will know.— He unstrapped his bow, nocking the phoenix arrow.
—There are more than just Valkyries inside,— Sian said. —Orion hasn’t officially declared war on any of these factions yet.—
—Neutralize the wraiths, and then we’ll reevaluate.— Welcome counsel from Blace. —After all, the arrow might not work.—
—Use the arrow to reach your target, then destroy her,— Allixta said. —As you told Orion you would do weeks ago. Have you forgotten your mission?—
Rune drew the bowstring past his chin. No shot was more important than this one. He was as nervous as he’d been when first going to battle with a bow.
A flash memory of Orion: “Make your first shot count, archer. You’ll remember it for the rest of your immortal life.”
Rune had; Rune did.
—Let your arrow fly,— Blace murmured.
Rune relaxed his string fingers to loose the most perfect arrow he’d ever fired. On any other occasion, his heart would’ve soared at the precision of its flight.
Now he only wanted destruction. He got it.
The shockwave slammed into him, nearly laying him out. Sian shielded Allixta; Blace traced past the blast. Darach growled at it. Curses dug its claws into the ground.
The wraiths were scattered through the air! They lay dazed, hovering in different positions like a floating battlefield of dead. Val Hall’s front door was wide open.
Nïx called in a cheery voice, “I’ll be right with you, Møriør! Have to take my curlers out!”
Through the doorway, Rune could see legs jutting from under a couch. A woman wriggled out and popped to her feet.
Nïx?
Her hair looked as if she’d dust-mopped with her head, and her eyes were hazy. She told unseen beings, “I’ll just be a moment. I’d like to talk with them privately. Enjoy the hors d’oeuvres that don’t exist because Valkyries don’t eat.”
As she emerged from the hall, lightning shot toward her, bolts jagging down, seeming to plant inside her body. They projected all around her like the heads of a hydra. She wore a black leather skirt and boots—with a breastplate.
The design was olden, the metal heavily engraved. Lightning reflected in the glimmering surface. An anatomical heart had been etched into the center. Among the many shapes, he spied . . . a feather.
Has all this been planned? He nocked his last black arrow—one-and-done.
Nïx nodded at Rune, stopping a few dozen feet away. That bat of hers glided between lightning bolts to land on her shoulder. When a drift of dust settled on its fur, it sneezed.
Allixta arched a brow. —This is the primordial Valkyrie?—
“Greetings, Bringers of Doom. I’m Phenïx, soon to be the goddess of Accessions. I just have one little task left to kill.”
—Phenïx?— Blace said. —Is that her full name? And you had that feather?—
Sian bared his fangs. —We are not to be toyed with.—
Allixta’s magick deepened, steeping the air. —Take her out, baneblood.—
—I need information first.— And he doubted his arrow could breach the lightning.
—You were serious about that?— Allixta demanded. —You have the shot; Orion ordered you to assassinate her.—
Blace shook his head. —We need to find Rune’s mate. Nïx will know.— The vampire was siding with him on this?
Though Darach revered matehood, he said, —Shoot. Find mate later.—
—Find? So easily, then?— Blace scowled. —Says the male who’s never lost anything.—
—Life.—
—Yes. You did lose your life, I suppose.—
—Sian, back me up!— Allixta turned to the demon. —Do we now complete only the convenient missions? Obey only the dictates with which we agree?—
—We will find your mate eventually, Rune,— Sian said. —But you’ll never get a shot like this again.—
—Her lightning will burn my arrow. The bonedeath is my only option.—
—Then use it.— Allixta said.
The Møriør had always been a unified front. Now they were at cross-purposes. And as they argued, other immortals filed out of Val Hall behind Nïx.
Two dozen Valkyries: one glowing, one carrying an extraordinary-looking bow, others with swords. A Fury among them had wings of fire.
When a contingent of fey archers followed, Rune said, —Draiksulians.— From the source dimension of all fey, the root of their slaving empire.
Ten Lykae emerged next, each one on the verge of turning. Their eyes were ice blue with aggression.
Darach said only, —Descendants.— He was half-turned himself, his body nine feet tall, his own eyes blue. His burgeoning muscles ripped his tunic in several places; he clawed it away.
Those Gaia Lykae scented the air, growling. Did they not recognize Darach Lyka, the alpha of their entire species?