Dark Blood
Page 102
“If they look like a porcupine,” Zev said, with a small grin. “You might consider that their quills could be dangerous. All those sharp spikes? Just a guess.”
Fen shot him a look. The four porcupines lumbered closer, attempting to surround the three hunters. “They look exactly alike. Which one has the pebble we’re looking for?”
“The one directly facing you, Fen, is the one who split into threes, but that particular one with the strange-looking ridges was the torso,” Zev said. “Be careful about severing parts. We don’t want any more to pop up. I’m assuming, and that could get us all killed, that if we get the two pebbles the other two new ones will fall.”
“Let’s hope,” Fen said, and leapt straight into the air, above the porcupine in front of him.
As if the movement had triggered them into violence, all four of the large Lycans turned puppets, shot out deadly quills. They were much like arrows although streamlined and tipped with venom. The three hunters could see the venom glistening on the tops, which meant the bodies of the porcupines produced the venom and it ran through the hollow quill to the tip.
The only thing that saved Zev and Dimitri from being covered in poisonous quills was their mixed blood speed. Both leapt into the air, although Zev felt the burn as one of the quills passed through his ankle. Hot and ugly pain ripped through him like a freight train, stealing his breath.
“Push the poison out through your pores,” Dimitri instructed, his eyes on his brother.
As Fen dropped from his leap in the air, he came down on the porcupine Zev had pointed out as the one Xaviero had released his pebble into. His legs wrapped around the neck of the beast, the only spot that wasn’t covered with quills. He drove the huge Lycan puppet nearly into the ground with the velocity of his attack, so that the porcupine couldn’t move, his legs trapped in the dirt.
Fen plunged his knife into the chest of the beast, following the path with his fist, swearing in his native language as venom burned through his flesh, but his fingers managed to find the small pebble. He snatched at it, dragging it into his palm, even as the beast attacked him, ripping at his arms and shoulders with great, tearing claws. He held on to his prize with tenacity, ignoring what was happening to his body while he extracted the pebble.
Two of the porcupines rushed to help, but their footwork was clumsy, and Dimitri managed to slow them down by taking their legs out from under them. Fen pushed off the porcupine’s head, the pebble in his hand. It was surprisingly clean and smooth, cool when it should have been covered in blood and warm.
Branka, what do we do with the pebble once we have it? They’re still alive and coming at us, Zev said.
He didn’t like Fen’s apparent fascination with the small round stone, either. Rather than hurling the thing away, as instinct might demand and running from the creatures bearing down on him, Fen stood staring at the pebble as if mesmerized.
Use a cloth to touch it. Don’t use skin.
Now she told him. Zev ripped his shirt and took the pebble right out of Fen’s hand, shoving him out of the path of one of the marauding porcupines. Fen blinked rapidly, frowned and looked at his torn arms with a kind of shock.
I’ve got it. What do I do with it? Already the other puppets were coming after him, ignoring both Fen and Dimitri. He was grateful he’d pushed the poison out of his system as Dimitri had instructed, something he’d never done before and would have come in handy in a few of the battles he’d been in.
Hurl it straight at Xaviero. Just like the time you shot at him. Aim between his eyes and don’t miss.
He’s inside a protective circle.
Exactly. His own magic will destroy the pebble.
“Get the other one and try not to touch it. If you do, you risk zombie land, although Fen looked pretty dreamy,” Zev pointed out.
Dimitri used the same tactic as Fen had, leaping into the air, his legs scissoring around the puppet’s neck, driving him down into the dirt to trap his legs while he slammed his knife inside the chest. He’d wrapped the inside of his fist with a piece of his shirt, and when he felt the small pebble, he used two fingers to scoop it into the middle of his palm.
The porcupine tore at him. Dimitri felt sorry for the creature, despite the pain it caused as it ripped at his arms and tried to embed quills into his skin. He’d once been a Lycan warrior, fierce and fast and loyal to his people. To do this to such a man was wrong.
“I’ll give you the peace you deserve,” he whispered softly as he ripped the pebble out of the Lycan’s chest.
He leapt away from the creature, and sprinted to Zev’s side. “What now?”
“We throw them at Xaviero’s forehead. Aim right between his eyes and Branislava says not to miss. So don’t miss,” Zev cautioned. “Right after me. A one-two punch, so he has no time to counter.”
Dimitri nodded. Zev hurtled the first pebble so hard it sang as it moved through the air. Dimitri followed suit, giving the small stone a voice as they whistled low all the way to the protective circle. Both stones hit the protective shell hard, aimed exactly for the middle of Xaviero’s forehead. Blue flame burst from the protective shell, sputtered and then was gone. For a moment the ring around the mage lit up and he stumbled back as if hit with a great force.
Anger flared in his eyes as he glared at the three of them. His puppets collapsed on the battlefield. Zev sent him a little salute.
It’s done, Branka. We’re coming to you.
And all of you are all right?
A little beat up, but we’re fine, he assured. The Lycans he made into puppets are at rest.
It was impossible for any soul dying there on the battlefield to escape, Xaviero had seen to that with his foul fog and the blackened, greedy smoke from his fire, but she didn’t want to point that out to Zev. Branislava deliberately began to inch her way away from the roaring blaze, knowing the closer she was to Xaviero’s center of power, the more it would interfere with hers. She had to be just as powerful in her own right—for good. Where there was evil, there was always good. Where there was darkness, one could find light. One didn’t exist fully without the other.
Tatijana, are you all right?
Before she blocked out everything else, she needed to know the other three women could handle Xayvion.
Tatijana heard her sister as if she was far away, not merged in her mind. Her concentration was wholly on Xayvion. Already he had countered her spell, turning her wholesome and helpful garden snakes into venomous vipers, slithering around the field just waiting for a hapless Lycan or Carpathian to make a misstep.
Fen shot him a look. The four porcupines lumbered closer, attempting to surround the three hunters. “They look exactly alike. Which one has the pebble we’re looking for?”
“The one directly facing you, Fen, is the one who split into threes, but that particular one with the strange-looking ridges was the torso,” Zev said. “Be careful about severing parts. We don’t want any more to pop up. I’m assuming, and that could get us all killed, that if we get the two pebbles the other two new ones will fall.”
“Let’s hope,” Fen said, and leapt straight into the air, above the porcupine in front of him.
As if the movement had triggered them into violence, all four of the large Lycans turned puppets, shot out deadly quills. They were much like arrows although streamlined and tipped with venom. The three hunters could see the venom glistening on the tops, which meant the bodies of the porcupines produced the venom and it ran through the hollow quill to the tip.
The only thing that saved Zev and Dimitri from being covered in poisonous quills was their mixed blood speed. Both leapt into the air, although Zev felt the burn as one of the quills passed through his ankle. Hot and ugly pain ripped through him like a freight train, stealing his breath.
“Push the poison out through your pores,” Dimitri instructed, his eyes on his brother.
As Fen dropped from his leap in the air, he came down on the porcupine Zev had pointed out as the one Xaviero had released his pebble into. His legs wrapped around the neck of the beast, the only spot that wasn’t covered with quills. He drove the huge Lycan puppet nearly into the ground with the velocity of his attack, so that the porcupine couldn’t move, his legs trapped in the dirt.
Fen plunged his knife into the chest of the beast, following the path with his fist, swearing in his native language as venom burned through his flesh, but his fingers managed to find the small pebble. He snatched at it, dragging it into his palm, even as the beast attacked him, ripping at his arms and shoulders with great, tearing claws. He held on to his prize with tenacity, ignoring what was happening to his body while he extracted the pebble.
Two of the porcupines rushed to help, but their footwork was clumsy, and Dimitri managed to slow them down by taking their legs out from under them. Fen pushed off the porcupine’s head, the pebble in his hand. It was surprisingly clean and smooth, cool when it should have been covered in blood and warm.
Branka, what do we do with the pebble once we have it? They’re still alive and coming at us, Zev said.
He didn’t like Fen’s apparent fascination with the small round stone, either. Rather than hurling the thing away, as instinct might demand and running from the creatures bearing down on him, Fen stood staring at the pebble as if mesmerized.
Use a cloth to touch it. Don’t use skin.
Now she told him. Zev ripped his shirt and took the pebble right out of Fen’s hand, shoving him out of the path of one of the marauding porcupines. Fen blinked rapidly, frowned and looked at his torn arms with a kind of shock.
I’ve got it. What do I do with it? Already the other puppets were coming after him, ignoring both Fen and Dimitri. He was grateful he’d pushed the poison out of his system as Dimitri had instructed, something he’d never done before and would have come in handy in a few of the battles he’d been in.
Hurl it straight at Xaviero. Just like the time you shot at him. Aim between his eyes and don’t miss.
He’s inside a protective circle.
Exactly. His own magic will destroy the pebble.
“Get the other one and try not to touch it. If you do, you risk zombie land, although Fen looked pretty dreamy,” Zev pointed out.
Dimitri used the same tactic as Fen had, leaping into the air, his legs scissoring around the puppet’s neck, driving him down into the dirt to trap his legs while he slammed his knife inside the chest. He’d wrapped the inside of his fist with a piece of his shirt, and when he felt the small pebble, he used two fingers to scoop it into the middle of his palm.
The porcupine tore at him. Dimitri felt sorry for the creature, despite the pain it caused as it ripped at his arms and tried to embed quills into his skin. He’d once been a Lycan warrior, fierce and fast and loyal to his people. To do this to such a man was wrong.
“I’ll give you the peace you deserve,” he whispered softly as he ripped the pebble out of the Lycan’s chest.
He leapt away from the creature, and sprinted to Zev’s side. “What now?”
“We throw them at Xaviero’s forehead. Aim right between his eyes and Branislava says not to miss. So don’t miss,” Zev cautioned. “Right after me. A one-two punch, so he has no time to counter.”
Dimitri nodded. Zev hurtled the first pebble so hard it sang as it moved through the air. Dimitri followed suit, giving the small stone a voice as they whistled low all the way to the protective circle. Both stones hit the protective shell hard, aimed exactly for the middle of Xaviero’s forehead. Blue flame burst from the protective shell, sputtered and then was gone. For a moment the ring around the mage lit up and he stumbled back as if hit with a great force.
Anger flared in his eyes as he glared at the three of them. His puppets collapsed on the battlefield. Zev sent him a little salute.
It’s done, Branka. We’re coming to you.
And all of you are all right?
A little beat up, but we’re fine, he assured. The Lycans he made into puppets are at rest.
It was impossible for any soul dying there on the battlefield to escape, Xaviero had seen to that with his foul fog and the blackened, greedy smoke from his fire, but she didn’t want to point that out to Zev. Branislava deliberately began to inch her way away from the roaring blaze, knowing the closer she was to Xaviero’s center of power, the more it would interfere with hers. She had to be just as powerful in her own right—for good. Where there was evil, there was always good. Where there was darkness, one could find light. One didn’t exist fully without the other.
Tatijana, are you all right?
Before she blocked out everything else, she needed to know the other three women could handle Xayvion.
Tatijana heard her sister as if she was far away, not merged in her mind. Her concentration was wholly on Xayvion. Already he had countered her spell, turning her wholesome and helpful garden snakes into venomous vipers, slithering around the field just waiting for a hapless Lycan or Carpathian to make a misstep.
