Sweet Ruin
Page 110
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?
Blace nodded at several vampires who’d suddenly appeared, joining the ranks. —Forbearers, and a red-eyed natural-born. I recognize him. Lothaire. Powerful. Basically the primordial here. The female with him is vampire as well.—
The clear-eyed vampires kept Lothaire in their lowering sights, muttering something about the “Gravewalker.”
Nïx’s Vertas alliance already had deep fractures within it.
Sian brandished his war ax when demons appeared, their horns sharp with hostility. The muscular males bared their fangs. —Rage demons stand against us? Do they not comprehend what they guard in Rothkalina? And for whom?—
Allixta’s palms grew hotter when females exited the manor with their own hands alight. —None of these witches have paid their taxes. None have permits. Yet they threaten hexes against their Overlady?— Curses hissed, prowling back and forth.
—So we’re to draw battle lines?— Blace slipped his sword free. —This early?—
Sian twirled his ax. —What will it take to actually encounter a challenge?—
—They’re not without their strengths,— Allixta said. —The witch with mirrors for eyes killed a Wiccae deity. I sense those divine magicks from here. She’ll never be able to afford them.—
—We don’t have time for this.— Rune switched one-and-done for a bonedeath arrow, aiming at the ground near Val Hall.
Nïx canted her head, revealing her feylike ear. “Where are my manners? Can I offer you something to eat or drink? We have many nonexistent hors d’oeuvres.”
“I want Josephine,” Rune told the Valkyrie. “I know you see her even now.”
“You know know? Ah, another psychic! Why should I tell you? She didn’t even thank me before leaving. Rude phanpire.”
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?
Blace nodded at several vampires who’d suddenly appeared, joining the ranks. —Forbearers, and a red-eyed natural-born. I recognize him. Lothaire. Powerful. Basically the primordial here. The female with him is vampire as well.—
The clear-eyed vampires kept Lothaire in their lowering sights, muttering something about the “Gravewalker.”
Nïx’s Vertas alliance already had deep fractures within it.
Sian brandished his war ax when demons appeared, their horns sharp with hostility. The muscular males bared their fangs. —Rage demons stand against us? Do they not comprehend what they guard in Rothkalina? And for whom?—
Allixta’s palms grew hotter when females exited the manor with their own hands alight. —None of these witches have paid their taxes. None have permits. Yet they threaten hexes against their Overlady?— Curses hissed, prowling back and forth.
—So we’re to draw battle lines?— Blace slipped his sword free. —This early?—
Sian twirled his ax. —What will it take to actually encounter a challenge?—
—They’re not without their strengths,— Allixta said. —The witch with mirrors for eyes killed a Wiccae deity. I sense those divine magicks from here. She’ll never be able to afford them.—
—We don’t have time for this.— Rune switched one-and-done for a bonedeath arrow, aiming at the ground near Val Hall.
Nïx canted her head, revealing her feylike ear. “Where are my manners? Can I offer you something to eat or drink? We have many nonexistent hors d’oeuvres.”
“I want Josephine,” Rune told the Valkyrie. “I know you see her even now.”
“You know know? Ah, another psychic! Why should I tell you? She didn’t even thank me before leaving. Rude phanpire.”
