Authors: Angela Knight
Master of Smoke (28 page)
Warlock was trying to transform the elemental into nothing more than a power source for his own magic, and Smoke knew he wouldn’t last much longer.
So of course that was when the pain hit—a sheering agony that tore at his soul.
The girl. They were killing the girl.
Both Smoke’s spirit brothers cried out in ringing rage. In that instant, the elemental realized he could use their pain as both conduit and power source. With a cry of mingled victory and fury, the creature began to craft a spell to shunt his stolen magic back to his brothers. Perhaps he couldn’t escape Warlock’s cage, but once they had the power, the brothers could rescue themselves—and him.
It was the only chance any of them had.
At last the spell was complete. He could feel how weak it would leave him, how helpless, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was saving his brothers. And Eva, their precious Eva.
So with the last of his strength, he cast his spell, ripping the energy from Warlock and sending it flying back to his brothers. The sorcerer’s psychic scream of fury made him smirk.
There, you bastard. Reap what you’ve sown.
The werewolf leader
smirked through the leaves of the bush as he spotted the cat. “Well, what have we here? Is that you, Cat? No wonder you hid.”
smirked through the leaves of the bush as he spotted the cat. “Well, what have we here? Is that you, Cat? No wonder you hid.”
“Leave him alone, you bastard!” Eva shouted. A hand cracked hard against her head, and she yelped.
The werewolf pulled away from her, rising to his full seven and a half feet. Turning, he stalked toward the bush. Eva screamed and threw herself against the hands that gripped her arms and legs, but the wolves held her down easily.
The leader bent down over the bush, grabbed David by the scruff, and hauled him out. Fanged jaws gaped in a grin. “So much for—”
The magic hit David in a breath-stealing electric surge that convulsed his black-furred body. The wave was so powerful, its nimbus slapped the werewolf like a fist. He dropped the cat and staggered back to fall in a heap of stunned fur.
David grew
. Grew past man size, grew past the size of the big-cat form he’d so often assumed.
. Grew past man size, grew past the size of the big-cat form he’d so often assumed.
Grew to nine feet of muscle and claws and fangs, his body given the shape of his rage by the power surge from Smoke.
He leaped over the unconscious leader to grab Eva’s nearest captor by the mane, jerking him up and around. Claws flashed, and the werewolf howled, gutted. David grabbed the monster’s long muzzle in one hand and clamped the other over a brawny shoulder. He jerked in opposite directions.
Crunch.
Crunch.
The werewolf fell dead.
With a howl of fury, the sable wolf flung himself off Eva and barreled into David’s powerful cat thighs. The two went down in a chorus of chain-saw snarls.
Which was why David didn’t see the remaining were jump to his feet, fist buried in Eva’s dark mane as he hauled her up to use as a shield.
David had turned
into a furry Incredible Hulk—more than a head taller than any of the werewolves and half again as broad, his shoulders massive, his fangs like blades, big hands tipped in claws the length of a man’s fingers.
into a furry Incredible Hulk—more than a head taller than any of the werewolves and half again as broad, his shoulders massive, his fangs like blades, big hands tipped in claws the length of a man’s fingers.
And he was really, really pissed off.
“Get him, David!” Eva screamed as he buried his fangs in the werewolf’s throat with a savage snarl.
“Shut up, bitch!” the gray werewolf yelled in her ear as he dragged her backward. “You’re coming with me. And you’re gonna keep your fuckin’ boyfriend off my ass.”
Oh, screw that,
Eva thought, and used the move David had taught her for just this situation.
Eva thought, and used the move David had taught her for just this situation.
Her clawed hand shot backward to grab the werewolf’s dick and balls, curling into a vicious fist. Testicles squirted like an overripe tomato.
The werewolf howled, agony loosening his grip on her hair. She snapped around in the second part of the move, slamming her elbow into the creature’s sternum. He bent double with a wheeze, unable to breathe, much less scream.
Eva promptly grabbed his muzzle in the third move of the sequence, and jerked his head up with all her considerable werewolf strength.
There was that
crunch
again. When she let go, he fell, dead before he hit the ground.
crunch
again. When she let go, he fell, dead before he hit the ground.
Her stomach twisted in nauseated triumph as Eva looked around just in time to see David rising from the body of the werewolf he’d just slain. Nearby lay another one who was just as dead.
Which left the leader, still out cold from the blast that had transformed her lover.
David grinned at her, distinctly smug. She flinched only a little at the sight of his bloody jaws. Then a sudden motion out of the corner of her eye made her whip her head around.
The werewolf leader reeled to his feet, shaking his head, obviously still half-stunned.
David snarled.
“Oh, fuck,” the werewolf said, his eyes going wide as he realized every one of his men were dead. He whirled to run.
Eva looked away, wincing as David shot after him. The two disappeared around the corner. She heard a yip, cut off by a rolling feline roar.
From somewhere overhead came the sound of a glass door sliding open. “What the fuck is going on down there? Do I have to call the cops?”
Shit. Eva dove into the concealment of the Building Five breezeway. “Sorry! My dogs just killed a coyote.”
“Well, hold it the hell down!” The door slid closed again.
“Eva?” A voice came out of the dark, a full octave deeper than normal, but unmistakable.
“David?” she whispered.
“Here.” He came around the corner of the building, an immense dark silhouette.
She went into his arms hard enough to thump, her hands closing tightly around his waist. His body felt huge—and wet, but she wasn’t in the mood to quibble over a little blood. “Oh, God, oh, God, I thought we were dead! I thought they had us for sure.”
“Yes, well, they didn’t.” He sounded grimly satisfied.
“I did just what you told me to do,” she said, dimly aware she was babbling and not giving a damn.
He pushed her back a pace. “No, you didn’t, because what I actually told you to do was run like hell if we were ever in this situation.”
“And let them
eat
you? Not fuckin’ likely.” Pulling out of his arms, she looked around. Dead werewolves sprawled in the dim light of the moon, blood-splattered, heads and limbs at unnatural angles. It made for a sickening sight—until she remembered that if the creatures had had their way, she and David would be the dead ones.
eat
you? Not fuckin’ likely.” Pulling out of his arms, she looked around. Dead werewolves sprawled in the dim light of the moon, blood-splattered, heads and limbs at unnatural angles. It made for a sickening sight—until she remembered that if the creatures had had their way, she and David would be the dead ones.
“Well,” she told him, “we made one hell of a mess.”
When Belle and
Tristan stepped through the dimensional gate after she’d finally gotten the cat spell to work, the first thing they saw was a dead werewolf. The creature’s throat had been torn out, and his neck was broken.
Tristan stepped through the dimensional gate after she’d finally gotten the cat spell to work, the first thing they saw was a dead werewolf. The creature’s throat had been torn out, and his neck was broken.
“Looks like Smoke’s here,” Tristan said dryly. “And he’s pissed.”
“Definitely.” Belle gripped the pewter cat. Its eyes glowed so brightly, they illuminated the scene like tiny flashlights.
They’d been back at the hotel when she’d sensed the roaring force of Smoke’s magic suddenly activating. It had taken fifteen precious minutes to trace the pulse and cast a gate that led to its source. Which had evidently been more than enough time for Smoke to express his extreme displeasure to whatever werewolf had pissed him off.
Tristan’s helmeted head lifted suddenly, and he silently pointed toward the corner of the building. That was when Belle heard the soft murmur of voices.
Despite his armor, Tristan could move with surprising silence when he wanted to. Belle followed him, her own armor creaking and scraping, plate against plate. She was considering a spell to silence it when they rounded the corner.
And saw Smoke. Or actually, they saw a nine-foot were-beast that shared the cat’s dramatic coloring of blue-black fur and silver stripes. Behind him stood a female Dire Wolf who looked delicate next to the cat’s menacing brawn.
“Oh, God,” the female said, “what now?”
With a rolling, vicious snarl, the werecat leaped at Tristan. The knight went down with a shout and a clatter of armor under the massive beast’s weight. The cat dove for his throat, only to be frustrated by his enchanted gorget.
“Smoke!” Belle shouted, “we’re friends! Don’t hurt him!”
But before she could get anything more out of her mouth, something hit her like a four-hundred-pound running back. She slammed into the ground so hard she saw stars and tasted blood. Claws raked her armor with a metallic screech.
It was the female werewolf, snarling and savage.
Though the wolves were immune to magic, that only meant energy attacks did nothing against them. They still couldn’t tear their way through armor spelled to resist physical attacks. The Dire Wolf growled in frustration as she tried to get her claws in Belle’s neck.
“Get off, dammit!” Belle slammed a backward kick into the werewolf’s thigh she didn’t even seem to notice. “We’re Smoke’s friends!”
“Yeah, right. That’s why you showed up with the rest of the assassins.” The werewolf paused, as if to consider a better place to rake. Belle twisted for an elbow slam. The armored joint hit the werewolf right on the end of her sensitive nose, and she yowled in pain.
Belle had spent a thousand years learning how to fight dirty. As the werewolf jolted up in pain, Belle twisted onto her back and slammed a fist into her furry groin.
A groin punch hurts regardless of gender, and the female tumbled backward, yelping as she cupped her abused sex. Belle rolled, grabbed her fallen sword, pounced on the wolf, and slammed the pommel into the girl’s temple. Dark eyes rolled up. It was a blow that would have killed a human, especially delivered with a Maja’s supernatural strength, but Belle knew it had only bought her a moment to think.
She bounced to her feet and looked around for Tristan and Smoke. Unsurprisingly, the knight was having a far harder time with his opponent than Belle had had with hers. The huge cat raked his claws across Tristan’s armor, fighting without success to get through to flesh. Tristan was giving as good as he got, but since he didn’t really want to hurt Smoke, he was handicapped. All he could do was punch and kick, while battering the beast with the flat of his sword.
Smoke should have recognized Tristan; the two had been buddies since he’d rescued Logan more than twenty years ago. That the cat was attacking his friend now suggested that Warlock had done something to his mind, just as Belle had suspected.
She reached into the pouch on her weapon’s belt and grabbed the pewter cat. Being a creation of Smoke’s, the cat was a direct link to his mind and magic. She pulled off one gauntlet and tucked it in her belt before curling her bare hand around the cat and reaching for her magic. The spell took hold with a snap, and she sent a message rolling along it.
“Stop, attacking us, Smoke. We’re your friends. We’re trying to help you.”
“Stop, attacking us, Smoke. We’re your friends. We’re trying to help you.”
The cat froze with his jaws wrapped around Tristan’s gauntlet. He released his fanged grip, though he still held the knight down with massive clawed hands. Crystalline blue eyes flicked from Belle’s face to the fallen werewolf girl. Rage curled his lips into a savage snarl. “
You
hurt
her. Get out of my mind
.”
You
hurt
her. Get out of my mind
.”
He rose off Tristan with a rumble of rage. And sprang.
Five hundred pounds of pissed-off werecat shot toward Belle like the space shuttle. She had only a fraction of a second to cast her power toward the great beast in a net of energy. Chains of force materialized around huge paws even as she spun aside like a bullfighter.
The cat hit the ground hard, tumbling in a tangle of magical energy. It was such a near miss that the tip of his tail brushed Belle’s arm as he passed. Smoke roared, a deafening bellow of rage.
Tristan raised his sword and raced toward them in a desperate sprint. “Belle!”
She blinked at the note of fear in his voice. Fear for
her
? “It’s all under control, Tris.”
her
? “It’s all under control, Tris.”
He slammed to a stop, sucking in hard breaths as he watched the cat fighting the chains in a spitting, clawing fury. “I can tell. Offer him a blow job or something and get him to calm down.”
Typical Tristan. Just when she thought he might have some glint of basic humanity, he turned back into a jackass. Belle flipped him off and moved cautiously closer to her prisoner.
A glass door rolled open somewhere overhead. “What the fuck is going on!” someone roared. Other voices lifted in alarm.
Damn. Bystanders. Belle inhaled and called her power from the Mageverse, breathing it out in a sleep spell that rolled over the complex in a wave of sedation. Silence fell as various innocents decided they’d dreamed the roaring tiger and wandered off to bed.
“Somebody probably called 911,” Tristan pointed out, moving over beside her. He sheathed his sword with a scrape of steel on leather.
“Let me know if you hear sirens.” Belle told him absently, fighting to keep the cat in his magical chains. He hissed and growled as he struggled just as hard to break them. “I’ll cast a nothing’s-wrong-here spell to send the cops away.”
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