Taunting the Devil (The Bastard Cadre Book 5) Read online

  The portal almost hadn’t opened in time, and he didn’t know where it had taken him. He looked around, but as good as his eyes were, he couldn’t penetrate the darkness. The ground beneath him was uneven rock. He stood up, and his leg sent pain shooting along his spine. The nerves in his shoulder felt like they were on fire where the brute’s ax had cut him.

  I have to get to Rarick.

  Almost in answer to his thought, he heard Omar, Rarick must die.

  “He will,” Valan said.

  He fumbled for a nutri-vial laced with stimulants and painkillers and forced it into the socket in his leg. He no longer needed to appear beaten for Rarick.

  The ground beneath him trembled.

  Odd, I’m not in Ardel. I shouldn’t be able to feel Tralit’s—

  He almost didn’t realize in time. Successive impacts sent shockwaves through the ground beneath Valan’s feet. Yellow eyes the size of Valan’s head snapped open an arms span from him. The stench of rotten breath rushed him, and he jumped through the next hastily opened portal and landed on his knees in the tunnel where he’d met Pete and Vincent.

  He looked back to make sure the portal was closed, and whatever creature had almost killed him, hadn’t followed him through.

  The tunnel was empty, but something twitched on the floor. It looked like a lizard’s tail the length of his arm, contracting one way then the other as the remaining electrical impulses fired. The twitching slowed down, and Valan moved away from it, mildly disgusted. He guessed he’d closed the portal on a lizard, with the tail in this realm and the rest of it in that other realm. The lizard had probably had a second to be surprised before the creature in the other realm had eaten it.

  If there was a better example of life taking unexpected turns than what had just happened to that lizard, Valan couldn’t think of it.

  Pete and Vincent, illuminated by their torches, passed around a corner ahead. Valan caught the end of their conversation.

  Vincent said, “There’s still a chance.”

  “Fool,” Valan muttered.

  He stayed on his knees to catch his breath and gather himself. His eyes went back to the lizard’s tail. The twitching had stopped.

  What next? he asked himself.

  Omar provided the answer. Rarick must die.

  He will, Valan insisted.

  The ground shook beneath him again, and he thought, Tralit.

  The dragon complicated things. He’s supposed to, Valan told himself.

  Tobin? Valan wondered, and closed his eyes. Later. He would worry about his friend later. Things would have been simpler if Tobin had prevented Tralit from making it to Ardel. Obdurin wanted to use the dragon to kill Rarick and clear the way for Walden. It was a foolish plan. Vincent was a better choice, and Valan guessed that’s why Obdurin had sent him as a backup option, but after what had happened in Turintar earlier that day, Vincent would never take a God’s heart. Either way, sending in Tralit was foolish. Obdurin’s plans were too neat, but it could help Valan achieve his goals. He would prefer it if Tobin had been successful, but Tralit would keep all of Rarick’s people busy and give Valan the chance he needed. He just had to get to Rarick before Tralit did.

  I can manage Tralit d’Arathan, Valan told his nagging doubts. I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again.

  Tralit’s vanity made him predictably susceptible to flattery and Valan knew exactly how to exploit that flaw. He just needed the right words.

  Rarick must die! This time the sound of Omar’s voice sent a jolt of pain through Valan’s temples.

  “He will,” Valan said. The only question was whether it would be at Valan’s hand or Tralit’s.

  Valan breathed deeply, preparing himself.

  Eight years come down to this, he told himself, but, he knew, it was much more than eight years, he’d spent lifetimes in pursuit of Omar’s goals.

  He breathed deeply again, the portal back into Maiten’s Hall burgeoning as he prepared to open it. He had to beat Tralit to Rarick.

  I shouldn’t have bother with Vincent. I could have waited for Rarick’s bondsan to go after Tralit.

  He didn’t spend any time on the thought, regrets and second guessing himself would only slow him down. He just needed to get to Maiten’s heart. Nothing else mattered.

  What if Omar knows? The thought made Valan pause. He told himself, He can’t, but Valan knew anything was possible. Omar kept Valan’s deaths from him. Omar said Valan had never been successful in his attempts to kill a Chosen. What if Omar kept Valan’s deaths from him, because he had been successful and because Omar had learned Valan’s true intentions in the moment of his success.

  Valan pushed his doubts aside. I’d know.

  The portal opened, and Valan loosened his collar, prepared to act quickly.

  Unexpected heat pushed Valan back. Maiten’s Hall was ablaze. Cadres threw themselves against Tralit d’Arathan to keep him from their Lord.

  I sent Tobin against that. Valan dismissed the thought, now was not the time to mourn his old friend.

  Two of Rarick’s pale angels flew in panicked circles spreading the flames that had hold of their wings. Walden knelt looking down at himself and weeping to one side of the throne, his naked chest striped with knife wounds and blood. To the other side, Lilly retreated into the diminishing darkness with the children clustered around her.

  He saw little Lomar had put himself in front of the smaller children and Valan quashed the swelling pride in his chest by telling himself, He’ll learn. As an afterthought, he added, If he lives long enough.

  Rarick was on his dais ranting at the unrelenting dragon. Sensing Valan, Rarick turned and saw his intelligence officer. Saying nothing of the portal, Rarick commanded, “Valan, stop him!” Rarick pointed like an officer sending his men into the breach.

  Tralit scorched a bondsan and took another step closer to Rarick.

  Valan pulled his shirt all the way open and shifted, transforming into the wolf. He leaped, snarling at Rarick, but Rarick turned again and saw him coming.

  His jaws closed on Rarick’s arm. He twisted to pull the bracelet that held Maiten’s heart free, but the bracelet wouldn’t move. It was as good as part of Rarick’s arm. Rarick fell back, incredibly, toward the dragon. Valan tried one last time to pull Maiten’s heart from him. He closed his teeth around the edges of the bracelet and yanked.

  Something struck Valan, and he hit the floor on his back several paces from Rarick, his chest and jaw singed. Maiten’s heart glowed brightly on Rarick’s wrist.

  Valan snarled. So the God knew his game.

  Words came to mind, and Valan wished he was in human form so that he could say them out loud for Maiten to hear them, but, he reminded himself, Omar would hear them too and there were still no guarantees.

  A pale angel, its wings on fire, fell to the floor dead in front of Rarick and the Lord of Damar scrambled back from the dimin.

  Valan shook himself and ran forward against the pain and this time his teeth sank into the soft skin of Lord Rarick’s throat.

  22

  Reckless Bravery

  Vincent and Pete knelt at a pile of rubble that moments before had formed part of a wall that had stood for centuries. They’d left Stan’s funeral pyre and Valan and skimmed back to Ulri and his cadre and brought them here.

  Feeling giddy with adrenaline, Vincent asked, “Are we sure about this? Walden’s probably—“

  Pete cut him off. “Fuck Walden. Valan was right, if he ain’t already dead, it’ll be a mercy to make sure he is.”

  “Then what?” Vincent asked.

  Heat from Maiten’s Hall forced them to shield themselves behind the rubble.

  “Valan. He’s back here for sure.” Pete said with a feral grin. “And not letting these fucking bondsan make us look like cowards.”

  Ulri and his cadre hadn’t waited to assess the situation. They ran down either side of the massive black dragon to face whatever opponents stood in their way.

  Still riding
a wave of adrenaline and whatever stims had been in the vials Sorros had given him and were now running through his and Pete’s bloodstreams, Vincent studied Pete and remembered thinking Pete was a killer who knew the truth and spat in the eye of his mortality anyway.

  “What about Tralit?” Vincent asked.

  “Don’t worry about him, he’s nothing.” Pete grinned at his lie, wild-eyed and eager to join the conflict.

  Vincent stifled a manic laugh that threatened to bubble up his throat and take over. He said, “This isn’t the most circumspect approach.”

  “Didn’t I say you were green the moment I saw you?” Pete asked, but the feral smile on his face answered Vincent’s concern. Fuck circumspect.

  Vincent grinned back. “Right, nobody ever sang songs about circumspect,” Vincent said in his best impersonation of Pete.

  “Ain’t no choir practice on the frontline, Green,” Pete snapped back.

  Knowing the game and finally prepared to play, Vincent said, “That’s because we promote the best singers.”

  Pete still held Stan’s ax, and he raised it up as he entered Maiten’s Hall. The dragon was closing on the throne at the center of the hall. Bondsan had circled behind the dragon to attack it on all fronts. Pete’s ax swung and took a man’s head from his shoulders before Amir’s bondsan knew he was there.

  Vincent skimmed into the midst of the bondsan circling Pete and killed two of Pete’s attackers, then skimmed again and killed two more.

  Pete killed the last man and complained, “Fucking showoff.”

  “Walden,” Vincent said.

  “Valan,” Pete replied.

  Ulri’s cadre was already in the center of Maiten’s hall, fighting bondsan and dimin. Vincent had never seen them fight before, but he was struck now by their cold efficiency. He noticed Tralit didn’t seem interested in them and kept his attack on the Damarians.

  Another one of Amir’s bondsan came around the dragon and Pete threw the ax. The bondsan went down, and Pete drew his sword.

  Vincent skimmed to another pile of rubble and crouched behind it to see past the dragon and locate Walden. He saw a wolf attacking a man, Rarick, by a throne and massive statue. Behind them, a woman wearing a cardigan and a tweed skirt held her arms out to her sides as she backed away from the horrors of the hall, with a group of children gathered behind her.

  Rarick’s sister? Vincent thought. She looks more like a school teacher than Maiten’s next chosen.

  He scanned the rest of the hall and finally located Walden. The councilor was on his knees and looking down at his injuries. Vincent winced against the wounds he saw, but when Walden looked up, Vincent gasped. There was nothing of the man he’d known left in the expression on his face. Vincent didn’t know if the torture or Maiten had broken him, but Pete was right. There would be no mercy in taking him from this place.

  Pete dropped into a crouch next to Vincent.

  “Bastard!” Vincent said, still watching Walden.

  “Aye,” Pete agreed, and pointed at the dais where the throne stood, “but the bastard’s getting his now.”

  The Lord of Damar was on his back next to his throne, his face covered in blood as a wolf worried at the Chosen’s neck. Rarick pulled at fistfuls of the wolf’s fur, but the wolf didn’t release its hold on him.

  “Valan,” Vincent said.

  “Aye, but let’s give him a minute. Let him finish before I have my word with him.”

  A fresh burst of dragon-fire swept through Maiten’s Hall. Pete and Vincent put their arms up to shield themselves from the intensity of it, but it fell short of them.

  Pale angels darted at the dragon, they held spears and stabbed at the dragon’s eyes, but Tralit avoided their blows even as they forced him back.

  Two bondsan turned from the dragon, their cadre-mates dead around them, and ran to their bond-lord. They raised their swords as they advanced on the wolf, but there was a golden flash, and the wolf was thrown back.

  Afterimages clouded Vincent’s vision, but he squinted and saw the light receding into Maiten’s heart. He glanced at the wolf and saw half the animal’s jaw had been seared away. The wolf staggered and fell onto its side. It popped back up again but continued to stagger and look disoriented.

  Rarick struggled to his knees as blood poured from multiple wounds in his neck. His face and the front of his robes were crimson with his blood. He tried to speak, but he could only make a gargling sound. The two bondsan flanked him and exchanged confused looks.

  The dragon reared up and screamed. It sent its scorching flames into every corner of the ceiling, and the pale angels screeched as flames found their wings. Not done, the dragon scorched the floor of the hall, forcing everybody back.

  Ulri’s cadre fought in isolated pockets. Vincent thought at least half of them were already dead.

  “Valan and Walden are finished. We need to go, or we’ll die here with everybody else,” Vincent said and put a hand on Pete’s shoulder, prepared to skim out of Maiten’s hall and danger. When Pete resisted, Vincent insisted, “We have to go.”

  “Wait, how many people can you take?” Pete asked and pointed at the back corner of the hall where a woman and six children huddled, trapped by flames.

  “Two or three,” Vincent said and started forward, but Pete grabbed his arm to stop him.

  “It’s not enough,” Pete said. With a nod at the dragon, he said, “That bastard will kill everybody.”

  The dragon advanced on the throne again. Lord Rarick was, incredibly, still on his knees with his hands around his throat. Maiten’s heart glowed almost as bright as Tralit’s flames.

  The dragon killed the two bondsan behind Rarick.

  Valan crouched snarling, but the dragon stopped.

  “Get those kids out. I’ll keep the bastard busy,” Pete said.

  This time Vincent grabbed Pete’s arm to stop him. “I can take you.”

  “Get the kids, don’t worry about me,” Pete said, his eyes shining and his attention on the dragon.

  He’s mad, Vincent thought, but he said, “I’ll see you outside.”

  Pete grinned at him and said, “Fuck, but you’re green.”

  Pete stepped back into the few remaining shadows and faded from view.

  Shadow-walker, Vincent thought, finally understanding how Pete had been able to surprise him again and again that day.

  23

  Broken Words

  With the taste of Rarick’s blood in his mouth and victory within reach, Valan shook his head again, still reeling from the blast of power that had thrown him back from Rarick. He fell to his side and forced himself back up. His vision spun, and his head lolled to one side.

  He tried to focus on Maiten’s heart. The bracelet and Rarick’s arms were both slick with blood, but the stone itself retained its golden color. Steam sizzled from the stone as blood touched it and was instantly burned away. Rarick was on his knees, blood spurting from his throat. Valan looked at the God’s heart again and decided if it weren’t for Rarick’s bond to Maiten and the constant supply of blood to the God’s heart, Rarick would already be dead.

  His vision clearing, Valan circled the dais where Rarick knelt next to his throne.

  Rarick tracked Valan, his eyes wide and terrified, and mumbled undecipherable noises.

  Maiten’s heart pulsed threateningly as Valan got closer.

  Valan’s head lolled to one side again. He planted his feet and shook himself.

  Tralit had shifted and stepped up onto the dais in his human form. He shouted at Valan, “He was mine!”

  Valan felt a wave of terror hit him with the words. His hackles rose, and he tried to snarl automatically, but his growl was a pathetic sound like a cub choking. He stopped himself. If I run, I’m dead. If I try to fight, I’m dead.

  Tralit took a handful of Rarick’s hair in his left hand and yanked the Chosen’s head back. Rarick mumbled frantically as blood spurted between his fingers. Steam blossomed from Maiten’s heart with the fresh infusion o
f blood.

  Maiten’s keeping him alive. Desperately looking for an alternative, Valan thought.

  He glanced at Walden who still knelt across the hall, looking down at his injuries in confusion. Nobody here.

  He stood, human again, and tried to speak. In his mind he heard the words he wanted to say, He’s yours. I don’t care about him, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he made a disjointed sound that turned his stomach. “Yore, ‘im!”

  Valan staggered and raised his left hand to his jaw. Where he expected to feel the bristle of his chin, and bone beneath skin there was nothing. He reached further than should have been possible and his fingers felt a mess of warm wet noodles where the left side of his jaw should be. He pulled his hand away and saw it was covered in blood and flecks of meat and bone. One of his teeth fell into his hand.

  “He’s no use to me like this,” Tralit shouted.

  Valan looked up at Maiten’s heart in confusion. You did this? he thought.

  The stone pulsed a warning. Stay back.

  Looking back at his bloodied hand he tried speaking to Tralit, “Tarrrg!”

  Tralit let go of Rarick and took a step toward Valan. “Maybe I’ll take my revenge on you, Wolf.” There was recognition in Tralit’s eyes and tone now.

  Valan shook his head and gestured with an open hand, the one not covered in blood, at Rarick. He’s yours, he wanted to say, but could only manage. “Waaaar.”

  Tralit’s grin was malicious. “How are you still here? I watched you die centuries ago.” He glanced at Rarick, who still spluttered in a cloud of steam. “Does a God animate you? Have you bound yourself to one of those pitiful creatures?”

  Valan shook his head from side to side, but the motion unbalanced him, and he dropped to one knee.

  “They are pitiful things, these gods, but you already know that. You were there at the beginning of this age when they were given their chance.” Tralit took a step toward Valan. “You were there, and you’ve done nothing to ensure your kind knows the truth, why is that? Do you stand apart from your kin?”