The Heir of Death - The Final Formula 3.5 (8 page)

Your man is smart and agile,
the same voice whispered in her mind.

“Yes, he is.” Elysia glanced from side to side, but saw no evidence of the speaker. The lich walking toward her lacked a lower jaw. The woman couldn’t use him to speak.

“Stop.” Elysia threw her soul into the vessel before her, and the lich froze in mid-stride.

Suddenly, her soul was snapping back, and she grunted at its powerful return.

You don’t listen very well.

Elysia ran the scalpel across her palm, grimacing as it bit deep. She stepped forward and shoved her bloody hand into the lich’s face. “Drink.”

She once again threw her power into him, and he was momentarily hers. With his lack of a proper mouth, the drinking was more symbolic than actual, but it wasn’t the act of drinking that was important. He had to take that bit of her soul, contained within her blood, into himself.

She took a quick glance at James and saw another pair of liches at his feet. He was holding his own against the remaining three who had made it around the table. James backed away, keeping them occupied and uninterested in her, though his own gaze flicked in her direction often.

Elysia closed her eyes, following her blood into the lich. She found his soul and looked closer. As she did, the bonds that held him to his physical form became visible to her.

For one long moment, she simply stared. She had never tried to take a lich that had been bound to another. The single Making she had performed had been an act of desperation and nothing more than fumbling in the dark. But this time, she
looked.

Imagining that she held the lich’s imprisoned soul in her hand, Elysia pictured claws replacing her nails, much as James frequently did. She slipped a claw beneath one of the old bonds and sliced upward. It gave with a pop she could feel, if not hear.

What are you doing?
Was the invisible woman worried?

Elysia didn’t answer, moving to the next bond.

You shouldn’t be able to do that.

An alien presence suddenly surrounded her, or rather, that bit of her own soul within the lich. The image of his bound soul winked out. Alarmed, Elysia pulled away, magically and physically.

The lich grabbed her by the front of her robe and lifted her from the floor.

Who are you?
the woman’s voice whispered in Elysia’s mind.

Chapter 9

O
ut of the corner of his eye, James saw the lich grab Elysia and lift her off her feet. “Ely!”

He cut down another lich as it reached for him, then threw the cleaver at the lich holding Elysia. The heavy knife wasn’t intended for such a purpose, but even bound in iron, James was every bit the Hunter his brothers were. His aim was true, and the cleaver slammed into the lich’s head, and as its name suggested, cleaved the skull in two. Like the other badly decayed liches, the breaking of the brittle bones caused the whole structure to disintegrate. In this case, the lich’s head collapsed into bone fragments and dust. His hands released Elysia’s robe, and the rest of the body crumbled to the floor.

“You okay?” he called to her.

“Yes, I—” Her eyes went wide, looking beyond him. “Behind you!”

He was already turning. Two more liches shambled in from the hall. With the two remaining already too close for comfort, James ran at the newcomers. He dropped into a slide at the last minute, and knocked the pair to the ground as the others charged after him from behind. Lacking any kind of coordination in their rotted bodies, these two became tangled with the ones on the floor, giving James time to regain his feet and run back to the autopsy table in the center of the room.

He vaulted onto the wooden surface and reached up to retrieve the unlit oil lamp hanging over the table. He hurled it at the pile of liches struggling to regain their feet. It shattered, liberally dousing one and splattering the others with oil. James jumped down on Elysia’s side of the table and ran to her.

“What are you doing?” she asked when he bent to retrieve the tattered shirt from the bones of the lich that had accosted her.

He flashed her a grin. “Watch.”

Balling the old shirt in his fist, he ran to the table of equipment and picked up a bottle with a peeling label that read
lamp oil
. Like everything else in this place, the cork crumbled when he tried to remove it, but the bottle was open. He upended it over the shirt he held, then touched the cloth to the candle flame. The old fabric caught with a whoosh.

“James!” Elysia cried out.

He looked up from the fireball he now held in his hand. “I’m immune to fire, remember?”

The liches had untangled themselves and regained their feet. Once again, they closed in on them.

James grabbed the half-empty bottle and moved away from Elysia to meet them. He shoved the flaming shirt into the chest of the one who had been most heavily doused with lamp oil, and it burst into flame. The others weren’t as easy to light. He slung the bottle’s contents on them, working quickly before the flames consumed the shirt he held.

James had assumed the burning lich was out of the fight, but it wasn’t done. He glimpsed it coming for him, and tried to block it. Unfortunately, the blow took him in the arm and knocked the bottle from his hand. The sound of the glass shattering against the floor was loud in the near-silent scuffle.

“Shit.” James ducked another grab and dropped to his haunches beside the spreading pool of lamp oil.

The three remaining liches were on top of him instantly.

“Stop!” Elysia shouted.

The trio hesitated, and James surged forward to grab the leg of the nearest lich, intending to pull it into the pool of oil before igniting it. He grabbed it by the trouser leg, but the entire garment ripped away when he pulled. But the move unbalanced the now pantless lich, and it fell on its back in the oil.

James reached out to light the oil when suddenly a hand grabbed the back of his robe, and he was hauled upward, then slung aside. Airborne, he tried to duck into a roll, but smacked the wall beside the doorway to the hall before he could do little more than cover his head. He still hit hard enough to see stars.

“Are you aware that you’re holding a burning rag?” a familiar voice asked from above him.

James blinked up at Doug. “I’m immune to fire.” He pushed himself to his feet.

“Okay.” Doug turned his attention to the room, lifting the oil lamp he still carried. “Liches, under a strong compulsion. I’m guessing you’ve been trying to ignite them.”

“What gave it away?” James asked. The lich he had ignited was stumbling around blindly.

“I can’t take them,” Elysia called. “Every time I try, she pushes me out.”

Doug glanced at James. “She?”

“Someone is speaking to Elysia,” James said. “I can’t hear it.”

“It’s not a good sign that she’s hearing voices,” Doug muttered.

“I’m bound in iron. That might be blocking the voice she’s hearing.”

One of the non-flaming liches charged toward them, and James tensed, ready to spring away.

“Stop,” Doug said, his voice almost indifferent, nothing like Elysia’s panicked tone.

The lich froze where it stood and regarded them with its dead eyes.

“Well?” Doug gestured at it. “Are you going to use that before it burns out?” He nodded at the burning cloth James still held.

Not certain that Doug wouldn’t release the lich without warning, James moved forward carefully. He pressed the fire against the lich’s shirt, and an instant later, the dry-rotted fabric splattered with lamp oil began to burn.

James took a quick step back. “Can you take the burning one?” He gestured at the first lich he had ignited.

“Yes, but I’ll have to release this one.”

“Do it. I’ll distract this guy. Have the burning lich hug the one without pants.”

“Kinky.”

“It fell in a puddle of lamp oil.”

“Good to know. For a moment, I was afraid you were going to use me to enact a twisted fantasy.”

“Now who’s the funny guy?”

Doug’s cheeks dimpled, then he looked past the burning lich and frowned. “Ely, there’s one moving your way.”

James saw that he was right. The remaining lich had noticed her and walked quickly toward her. She bent to pick up the cleaver.

“What are you doing with that?” Doug called to her. “Command it.”

“She can’t seem to stop them,” James said. “Take care of the burning one before it’s too far gone to control. I’ll get her.”

“Very well. Go.”

James sprang forward and with a sweeping kick, knocked the legs from beneath the lich he had just set on fire. The thing had barely hit the floor before James was on his feet, running to where Elysia stood.

The lich had closed the distance. She lifted the cleaver, but James could see that it was too heavy and unbalanced to be an effective weapon for her.

Suddenly, a portal opened right beside her and a pair of dogs jumped out. For an instant, he thought they might be hellhounds, but they were too small—and too dead. Bone showed through their fur, and their milky white eyes gazed at the lich who now hesitated. Oddly, neither dog attacked Elysia. They moved to stand to either side as if guarding her.

I kept you safe and for what? So you could give yourself to him?
The female voice echoed out of the open portal, and James saw a hooded figure within. Was this the woman Elysia had been hearing?

The lich threatening Elysia abruptly turned and fled across the room. James didn’t turn to watch how Doug handled it. The dogs were now gazing at him.

I told you, demon. She is not for you
, the woman within the portal said.

James remembered another lich calling him a demon. “You were the one I met when Elysia sleepwalked into the land of the dead.”

Yes. I will not allow you to take her, nor will she be a plaything for my father.

Elysia looked up. “Your father? Alexander?”

Come, child.
The woman held out a skeletal hand, beckoning her.

James took a step forward, intending to pull Elysia back, but a dog sprang at him. It made no sound. It was just a muzzle full of teeth aimed at his face. He sidestepped the snapping jaws and reached out, catching the animal by the throat. It weighed little, and he slung it aside with ease. It flipped end over end before slamming into the wall with a crunch.

“James?” Doug called.

Taking his eyes off the remaining dog, James turned to find the lich that had tried to grab Elysia closing in on Doug. He stood with his back to James, only feet away from a burning, though still intact lich. The other two had crumbled to the floor.

“Cleaver.” James held out his hand to Elysia, then hurled it the moment the handle touched his palm. It rotated through the air, the blade glinting in the low light. Elysia gasped as it barely missed Doug’s ear and slammed into the lich facing him. An explosion of bone, and it fell at his feet.

Movement drew James’s attention back to the wall where he’d slung the first dog. The animal was now standing, the shattered bones rebuilding before his eyes. He remembered Addie’s description of the zombie dogs she and Rowan had faced in Ian’s tomb.

“Let go!” Elysia shouted.

The other dog had clamped onto her robe and was tugging her toward the open portal. But at her command, it released her.

She stumbled and James caught her, but before he could speak, something clamped onto his calf. He twisted around and found the dog he had thrown now attached to his leg.

“Release him!” Elysia said.

The dog obeyed, then Doug was there. With a kick, he sent it into the wall once more. Then faced the open portal and remaining dog.

“Who are you?” Doug’s eyes flickered white.

Bella Nelson
. The woman’s voice whispered out of the portal. The remaining dog turned and jumped through the dark opening to join her, then the portal closed.

“Who is Bella Nelson?” Doug asked.

“Alexander’s eldest daughter,” Elysia answered.

Doug grunted. “Were those liches hers?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

The dog Doug had kicked was climbing to its feet once more.

“I’ll get the cleaver.” Doug started to turn away, but Elysia gripped his arm.

“How did you command those liches? The one controlling them told me that only a soul reaper could take them from her.”

“I masked the bond, sheathed it in my own soul so she couldn’t see it.”

“Like you can do with James.”

“Like I can do with any bond.” Doug shrugged his wide shoulders and walked off to get the cleaver.

Elysia watched him, her brow wrinkled.

“You’ll get there,” James said.

“Sometimes, I wonder.”

He took a step toward her, aware of her distress and the scent of her blood. “You’re bleeding.”

“More evidence of another failure.”

“Ely.” He moved closer, flinching a little when he put weight on his injured leg.

“You’re hurt.” She closed the distance between them and gripped his arm.

“I’ll be okay.”

A line of worry creased her brow. “But if you can’t shift, you can’t heal.”

“At least I won’t bleed out.”

She frowned, then clenched her injured hand. The scent of her blood grew stronger.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“You healed me.” She opened her hand to show him her bleeding palm.

The scent of her blood permeated the air, tensing the muscles in his body and setting him on edge. The smell drove him in so many directions at once that it overwhelmed him. He wanted to heal her, but he also wanted to Hunt her. Catch her. Lick the blood from her palm, then lick other places.

“Turn around?” she asked.

Her voice startled him and he forced his mind back on a more respectable track. He turned as much to hide his blush as to give access to his calf.

She knelt behind him and lifted the hem of his robe. “Damn,” she whispered.

He twisted around to get a better look. The wound was ugly. The dog had been able to keep its feet on the ground to give its attack more power. Instead of puncture holes, these were deep gashes, shredding skin and muscle.

“It’s so weird that there’s no blood,” she said.

“That’s a good thing.” Thank God wounds made without iron didn’t bleed. He didn’t want Elysia anywhere near his toxic blood—and that had nothing to do with the fact that her death would exile him from the mortal plane.

“Where does the blood go? Has the circulation to your foot stopped?” She pressed her palm to his leg.

“My toes are a little chilled.”

“What happens if you sustain a really serious injury and can’t shift?”

“It would be unpleasant. But I can’t
die
that way, and shifting puts everything back to the way it was, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”

She grunted, but didn’t comment.

He turned his attention back to the room around them. “Tattoos and piercings are out,” he said, trying to make light of his weirdness.

“That disappoints you?” A smile colored her voice.

“I wouldn’t mind a tattoo. But a steel needle would make me bleed, I wouldn’t heal, and the first time I shifted, the tattoo would be gone.”

She was silent a moment. “Oh wow.”

He looked back to see what had gotten such a response.

She lifted her hand from his leg. He watched in amazement as the wounds shrank before his eyes. The pain vanished along with the injury. He had watched her do the same thing with Ian, but this healed a lot more quickly than Ian’s wounds had.

She rubbed her hand over his leg one last time and rose to her feet. “What kind of tattoo would you get?”

He hesitated.

“You’ve clearly thought on it.” She smiled up at him. “Will you tell me?”

He studied her a moment longer, suddenly wishing he hadn’t brought this up. It seemed so lame to say it aloud. He glanced over at Doug. He was crouched by the zombie dog now, making certain the creature was not going to get back up. “It was a drawing of Fenrir, the monster wolf from Norse mythology who kills Odin, the man who raised him, at the final battle of Ragnarök.”

She watched him. “You don’t like your brothers much.”

He was stunned that she had figured out why he longed to have that image permanently drawn on his skin. It also shamed him that she had seen that bit of darkness.

He reached out and took her hand before she could say anything else, and brought it to his mouth. She gasped when he slid his tongue along the wound. Life exploded across his senses. He took a breath, trying to steady himself, then licked the wound again. And again. She moaned, the sound low in her throat. He wanted to tell her not to do that, and he wanted to tell her to do it again.

“Hell’s blood.” Doug’s voice jerked James back to reality. “You two need a room?”

James pulled back his lips, but Elysia pressed her fingers against them before he could snarl. “Shh,” she whispered, then turned to face Doug. “You don’t want to watch?”

“Ha ha.” Doug walked over to join them. He had retrieved his oil lamp and lifted it to survey the area. “Well, at least you didn’t find a way out and just leave me.”

“Of course not,” Elysia said. “We were detained. How did you find a way down?”

James turned and paced to the equipment table, trying to relieve the tension that now consumed his body. Her blood always set him on edge—and made him long for more. He couldn’t help but wonder about what Doug had told them earlier. Elysia glanced over at that moment, a slight frown wrinkling her brow. Was she wondering the same thing?