What perhaps surprised Adonides the most were the massive set of black wings at Tanith’s back and the fangs behind his lips. The bounty hunter’s skin had darkened to the color of coal, and his eyes burned a hellish red in the handsome frame of his face.
He was a devil. It was something Adonides would not have expected, but it explained much. Depending upon what Tanith’s descent was, it would explain the bounty hunter’s immunity to Fae magic, his incredible skill in combat, and the infamy of his long, impressive career.
Adonides had to admit that Drake made for an imposing figure in his dark transformation, and seeing him as thus gave Adonides pause. But it wasn’t enough to overrun his sense of duty… and the gnawing twinge of jealousy that scraped at his nerve endings.
Drake’s warning was the last straw. Despite the growing unease in the air, despite the odd and absolute quiet of the forest – despite all reason – Adonides attacked.
And now….
Now his guards were dead and he hung limply against a tree trunk, trapped in the bounty hunter’s deadly grasp. His throat was caught tight in Drake’s clawed grip, and his body was numb from the neck down. He’d sustained one too many injuries. He might heal in time, but not if Drake finished the job and killed him now.
Adonides gazed into his opponent’s eyes and quietly marveled at the colors within them. At this distance, he could see that they were not simply red. They were tri-colored – like the princess’s. At their centers burned a hellish flame reminiscent of the fire-laden pits of Nisse. Beyond that, a gold-laced gray warped like molten marble. A platinum circle that glowed like lightning made up the third ring. They were mesmerizing and familiar.
“I know what you’re thinking,” said Drake as he leaned in and his grip on Adonides’s throat tightened.
Adonides felt strange. There was no pain, only fear and a dawning sense of completion. He said nothing.
“You know you’re about to die.” Drake said. “You feel a little strange. Scared but at peace. Death is the ultimate dichotomy.” A beat passed. Suddenly Drake released him and Adonides slid down the tree to the blood-soaked mud beneath him. He was certain the bark of the tree dug furrows into his broken wings, but he didn’t feel it.
Drake stepped back and Adonides watched through blurred vision as a stream of blood threatened his own right eye and Drake gazed down at him. “Would you like to live, Adonides?” Drake asked.
Adonides thought about that. There was a clarity about him in that moment, perhaps afforded by his lack of pain, perhaps by some kind of magic. He was able to think clearly. And he knew that if he lived but went back to Malphas to admit that he’d lost Raven, the king of Caina would most likely kill him anyway. Then again, he might not. Malphas was not the kind of king to needlessly do away with loyal help when it was so hard to find.
If Drake left now, Adonides’s body would heal of its own accord. He might make it through this.
Drake waited, and finally Adonides nodded. He couldn’t quite speak, however. His lungs weren’t drawing in air properly.
Drake raised his head just a touch. “Come after Raven again and I will tear your wings from your body and use them to make her a coat.” He turned, there was a blast of air as his massive wings beat down once, and the infamous bounty hunter lifted out of Adonides’s sights.
The injured devil closed his eyes and rested his head against the tree behind him. It would be days before he retained the full use of his body after the thrashing Tanith had given it. He’d been foolish to attack the man. He was not only a devil, but apparently a very old one.
Adonides frowned and pushed the irritating mystery from his mind. He needed to concentrate on healing. Slowly, he felt the magic blood in in his veins begin to exert its power over the torn muscles, dislocated joints and broken bones in his body. Something in his back repaired itself and feeling flooded into his legs. It hurt.
Adonides gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut tight against the pain. And then there was a sound in front of him – like the settling of leather armor and the light step of an assassin. His eyes flew open once more.
Drake of Tanith was back.
Adonides frowned and tried his best to get to his feet. His legs screamed and shook, barely managing to get him upright. He leaned heavily on the trunk as he wiped the blood from his forehead and met the bounty hunter’s silver gaze. Tanith stood before him once more, but his skin had lightened and his wings were gone, as were his fangs. In their place was a smirk of such evil, Adonides was both impressed and taken aback.
“Changed your mind, Tanith?” Adonides whispered, his perilously weak voice quavering badly.
“No,” replied Tanith, and Adonides noticed that even his voice seemed different. It was still the deep, charismatic timbre it had always been, but there was an edge of finality, of ruthlessness, to it that Adonides hadn’t before noticed. “My mind hasn’t changed at all,” Tanith finished, smiling.
And in that single, final moment, it hit Adonides. This was not Drake.
The imposter attacked with blinding speed. Adonides went down and hit the ground like a sack of feathers. It almost felt as though he bounced. His body was no more; there would be no healing now.
With the last of his vision, he watched his attacker’s boots slowly move back into view. The creak of leather reached Adonides as the man slowly knelt beside him. “A parting gift, steward,” came his enemy’s voice. Adonides felt the man’s touch on his cheek. “For one should never go to sleep uncomprehending.”
Light exploded before Adonides’s eyes. He gasped, taking in his final quick breath, as comprehension dawned on him. He saw everything and understood everything. And then he closed his eyes for good.
*****
Drake could scarcely think as he left his dying opponent and took to the skies. A betrayal burned at his brain. She’d taken his blood and then run from him.
His rage simmered, his vision red.
Yessss. He could feel his father’s approval coursing through him, and for once in his life, he didn’t mind. Anger drove him beyond caring. He didn’t know why he’d left the steward alive. Something stopped him. Maybe it was Raven, her spirit touching his, her more gentle nature rubbing across his morality and smoothing off the rough edges. Maybe she was teaching him mercy.
If so, he was devoid of it now.
Down below, in the absolute darkness of a forest bereft of light sources, the trail Raven had taken beckoned to him. He couldn’t see her; a thick canopy of trees completely covered the trail, shrouding the party’s hasty progress. But he could feel her down there. He could smell her blood; it was laced with his own. And he could hear the whisper of her mind as she fled. She was frightened, but of what? Of him?
How could she be afraid of him after all he’d done for her? He’d saved her so many times!
His sinister form blurred over the tree tops. Branches caught fire as he passed them by. Embers crackled and popped behind him, stirred into eddies of flaming ash as he shot over the forest. He lit a trail of destruction behind him. Birds took to flight to escape the flickering flames and animals roused from their sleep, gathering offspring and shooting into darker, safer territory.
Triumphant laughter followed Drake’s hell-bound progress, filling him up inside, heating his blood, and taking over his mind.
There.
He heard the harder beat of her heart and felt her sudden stillness. They’d stopped in their terrified retreat. He knew they stopped because of him. They were waiting for him – they sensed him coming.
The forest exploded before him, parting to make way for his rapid descent. Branches went flying. Peeled bark lit up by the embers of Hell smacked into tree trunks and cascaded in sparks to the forest floor. A whirlwind of leaves filled the air, scraping at skin and blinding sight. Raven shielded her eyes, as did her companions. But he had the Cainan princess in his arms and was once more rising into the air before she could fathom what was happening.
There was the quick int
ake of breath before what would have been a scream, and Drake’s hand was covering Raven’s mouth. It was better this way. Without the ability to speak, she would have a harder time casting magic on him.
She didn’t struggle in his grasp – smart girl. The fact that he took her through the night time skies at dizzying speed no doubt had something to do with that. Instead, she had a death grip on his arms where they encircled her body and held her back against his chest. Her heart thudded like a rabbit’s, beating out a painfully quick pace against the delicate cage of her ribs. She was undeniably scared, but Drake knew that the moment he set her down – the moment he let her go – she would do everything in her power to attack him.
That was how Raven responded to fear. She didn’t cower. She didn’t hide. She faced her fears head on and threw a massive amount of magic at them.
Raven had never used her magic on Drake before. It was lucky that he’d managed to evade that particular part of her until now. She was a devil with an inclination to cold and ice. He was the opposite. Her spells would undoubtedly cause him copious amounts of damage.
He needed to think. He was angry, but the feel of her in his arms was like a salve on his unseen wounds. Her body was warm despite her Cainan heritage, and that warmth infused Drake, diluting the fury that had been rushing unchecked through his system. The trees no longer caught on fire as he flew by. There were no ashes in his wake, no burning trail left behind him. He felt his father’s influence slip….
“Raven,” he said, speaking her name in her ear as he sailed with her over the tree tops and headed toward the faint glow of Leger City beyond. “I’m taking you to the temple. Don’t fight me.” He closed his eyes and squeezed her tighter as he added, “You know I mean you no harm.”
She said nothing, of course; his hand still covered her mouth. He wasn’t taking any chances, at least not until they were on the ground.
In another few minutes, Drake recognized the thick wooden stakes of the gate of Leger City below them. They passed over unseen and Drake took them straight toward the center of town, where the temple of Magus stood as a silent, silver spire that rose a hundred feet into the air. It beckoned in the moonlight, glowing as if lit from within, which it technically was; the temple was ripe with magic, and magic had a light about it, whether good or bad.
They were nearly upon it when Raven began to shift in his arms. Beneath his death-like grip, her muscles lengthened, her skin flashed hot, and the strands of silky-fine hair brushing the sides of his face went from black to white in the course of seconds. She was changing forms, switching into her Abaddonian body as they flew over the dark city below.
Drake reacted quickly, shifting his hold on her now heavier form, but Raven was not without recourse of her own. He could do nothing about the wings that began to sprout from her back, putting strong distance and leverage between him and her. He couldn’t stop her wicked metal claws from finding purchase in the muscle of his forearm.
Drake gritted his teeth against the pain. He knew she wanted him to recoil – to drop her. She would easily catch herself. Good thing, he thought bitterly as the strength of her wings finally managed to put the distance between them that she’d no doubt been angling for. And Drake let her go.
Chapter Fifteen
At once, Raven’s massive wings flapped against the air. The sound was admittedly beautiful. She spun before Drake, maneuvering herself with an expertise that came with her devil blood.
Tri-colored eyes glared at him in the moonlight. Her fangs were bared. “I can smell his blood on you,” she hissed. “What did you do to him?” she demanded.
Drake’s heart hammered. He could see the worry in Raven’s eyes, and jealousy hot and hard ramrodded through his already burning core. “What did you expect, princess?” he asked, speaking the words through fangs of his own.
“Mercy, Drake” Raven yelled as her wings beat the air again to keep her aloft. “I expect someone of your abilities to show mercy! He was only trying to help me!”
Drake’s gaze narrowed. “He knew what he was doing.”
“No!” Raven insisted, and Drake felt a wave of cold wash over him. Her magic was slipping from her grip. “He did not! He had no idea who you are – who your father is!”
Drake hesitated then. He didn’t know what to say. She was right. And he also didn’t care.
Worst of all, his sudden silence was as good as a confession. Drake had left Adonides alive – but Raven wouldn’t believe so. Not for a second.
“You killed him!” she accused, just as he knew she would.
Drake’s fury rushed ahead of him. He wanted to scream, “Yes!” and let her think he’d done the deed. He wanted to be evil in that moment – to let his father win. Whatever it would take to give him the edge he required to win with Raven Grey. Because she was making him insane. And there was only so much more he could take.
The sound of a horn suddenly split the night, and all wicked, horrible thought fled from his mind. The horn was long and low and raised chills across his dark skin. It was an omen, a promise, an evil cry of deadly purpose.
Across from him, suspended in the air by her own glorious wings, Raven’s expression changed. Her eyes widened, her lips parted, and the anger fled from her features. She instinctively knew. She’d never heard the horn before in her short life – but she knew. Maybe it was her Chosen soul and the many lives it had lived in the past. Or maybe it was the inherent wrongness of this particular horn and what it meant. Regardless, Raven’s expression now mirrored his own. She was terrified.
He had to get her out of there.
The horn blew again, and Raven tried to cover her ears. It wouldn’t work; he knew that. Nothing could withstand the sound of the Horned One’s warning cry.
The Hunt had begun. Lord Oberon and his hounds would take everything in their path, human and non-human alike. All who heard the horn would be faced with a terrible choice: either join the Hunt – or become its prey. As the son of Asmodeus, he possessed a touch of immunity that others wouldn’t have, but even he would fall to the power of the Hunt eventually.
As would Raven.
We’re already lost, he thought. His only hope was to transport them somewhere. But he’d just killed three Rakshin and several of Malphas’s personal guard. He had the strength to open a portal but wasn’t certain he could direct it properly. Portal magic was finicky and wild. It was hard to control. There were a few gods who could do it unendingly without error, and a few magical items, such as a fragment from a unicorn’s horn, that could ensure proper transportation no matter what the state of their users – but Drake was neither a god, nor did he have any of these items on him.
Just as Drake was deciding it was worth the risk anyway, that anywhere would be better than here at that moment, Raven turned from him, raised her arms, and spoke a powerful word.
A beam of light shot from her outturned hands, and a portal began to swirl to life several feet away. Drake stared at the burgeoning portal in astonishment. He’d known that Raven was strong, but this was incredible. Perhaps her time in Eidolon had caused her magic to blossom. Opening a portal took a kind of magic very few possessed. The daughter of Malphas would certainly be able to do it, but he’d expected it to take her longer to learn.
Her instincts were incredible. She was incredible.
“Drake!” she called out, her expression now unsure. She knew what she as doing, deep down inside. But she was so new at this, she was uncertain of what it meant – of where the portal lead.
She gave him a questioning side-long glance, all anger now forgotten as the horn sounded once more below them and a new, far more deadly kind of fury began to open up inside of Drake. The Hunt was getting to him. He was Abaddonian royalty, but he was a living, breathing creature all the same. He had a flash of yearning, the desire to tear flesh from bone and feed until he was sated. But he shoved it away and rushed to Raven’s side.
“What’s happening?” she asked, her body shaking. Her fangs had
pierced her bottom lip; a thin trickle of blood dripped over her chin. Hunger spiked through Drake and he shut his eyes tight against it as his arms once more came around Raven’s body.
“Think about where you want to go!” he told her firmly. “Direct the portal!”
The horn sounded a final time, and the long, lonesome sound was joined by the baying of massive, black hounds. Raven tensed in Drake’s arms. No, he thought. “Let it go, Raven. Fight it.” He squeezed her tight, jerking her against him to punctuate his words.
A low, growling sound came from deep within her throat. “I'm hungry,” she said, her words like sand paper.
“Think of where you want to go!” The portal would lead nowhere if she didn’t visualize a destination. He desperately needed her to concentrate – but The Hunt was seeping into her blood. And the smell of her blood was quickly having the same effect on him. His pulse was increasing at a rapid rate. His chest felt tight, his guts were twisting, and blood was rushing where it definitely did not need to rush just then. “Concentrate!” he bellowed, fighting to hear his own words over the baying of the hounds below.
“I don’t know!” Raven cried. Her eyes were shut tight against the change that was no doubt coming over her. “Anywhere! Nowhere! Just not here!”
The portal pulsed once and stopped growing, signaling that it was now ready to receive a passenger through its magic doorway.
Drake didn’t hesitate. “Go!” he yelled as he both released Raven and simultaneously shoved her toward the portal’s opening. Raven’s wings opened a touch more, instinctively catching at the wind to slow her, but Drake was relentless. He rushed forward, gave her one final push square in the back, and Raven’s lithe Abaddonian form was swallowed by the portal’s swirling magic.
Just as the last feathers on her wings disappeared, something slammed into Drake’s side. The hit came hard and fast and knocked the wind from his lungs. His vision went dark, his wings folded, and his form reverted to human. He could feel it all happening, but only vaguely. And then he felt the wind around him – moving too fast – before he felt nothing at all.