Blood Prophecy
Page 55

“Yes,” Veronique replied coldly. “But it is not selfish.”
Viola hissed at her. Veronique snarled back, power clinging to her like ice on a winter lake. “Don’t push me, girl,” she warned. “We have rules and secrets to keep. You’re endangering us all.”
“He’s dead!” Viola shrieked, eyes bleeding red. “And you’re next, old woman,” she promised balefully. “You’re next.”
She knew she couldn’t take her right then. So she’d wait. She’d get stronger, lethal. With one last hiss, she flung herself out of the window, landing on the stable roof and sliding down onto her horse. She was riding away when Tristan jerked violently in his bed, bolting into consciousness. Fangs cut through his lower lip as he fought the unknown war inside his body. His eyes were open, but unseeing. Veronique gestured for a servant to pass him a jug filled with blood.
Viola r ode over the hills, a cold wind howling inside her body. Tristan was dead.
Dead.
The world was a lamb to be led to the slaughter.
The red veil descended again.
At least this time I woke up in the same place.
And with the same battle brewing at the bottom of the hill, but Isabeau had already dispatched the last three knights. Their horses bolted away. She turned to the little weeping girl. “Not a little girl,” I repeated, leaping frantically over the fallen knights.
“I know,” Isabeau said. She had the shard of a mirror in her other hand. She angled it toward the little girl and glanced down into it. The reflection of the little girl shimmered into Viola.
Then the actual little girl did the same thing.
Viola looked like a medieval maiden from a painting, with her gold hair adorned with flowers and the butterfly sleeves of her blue gown. The carved pendant swung on a long chain around her neck. The knights stirred at her feet. They stood up, armor creaking, and placed themselves between us. I wrested the sword from the decapitated arm, never taking my gaze off Viola. I brandished it, getting a feel for the weight. It wasn’t a rapier, like I preferred, but it would do.
I skewered the first knight, driving the tip of the sword in the crease between his arm and breastplate. I caught the dagger from his hand when he fell. I was suddenly grateful for all the studying I’d had to do on the twelfth century. I knew the weak points to plate armor, knew that it made them slow when they were off their horses. I waited until the next knight lumbered awkwardly to look at his companion, then flung the dagger. It pierced through the eye slat.
Viola’s smile died when the second knight landed back at her feet.
“Merde,” Isabeau swore as the ax faded out of her hand. She looked wispy. “I’ve been here too long.” She faded for a moment, like a candle flame flickering out. She solidified again but I could see it cost her. Her tattoos and amulets were the brightest thing about her.
“You said I had to fight her anyway,” I said. “So go! Go now!”
“Come with me, Solange!”
“I have to do this,” I insisted, pointing my sword at Viola. Isabeau wavered again. “Go!” I yelled at her. “Go now!”
Isabeau kept fading but took the knights out with her, knocking them out with the last blast of her magic. Even the guards on the ramparts collapsed. Viola blanched. Isabeau had just time enough to shoot me one of her rare smiles before she exploded into light. The glow hovered there for a moment before channeling into my tattered silver cord.
I was alone with Viola.
Finally.
Chapter 21
Lucy
The fire died all too soon.
We were left choking on smoke with a burning vehicle and half a dozen screeching Hel-Blar. I was out of arrows and there were only a few stakes left between us all. Even Kieran’s bottomless cargo pockets weren’t turning up anything to help us right now.
“Kieran, can you make a run for it with Lucy?” Nicholas asked. “You can take one of the Jeeps,” he added as Logan tossed Kieran his keys.
“I’m not leaving you guys,” I sputtered. “When did you fall and hit your head?”
“Lucy, you’re out of arrows and we’re out of options.” He darted a quick glance at Quinn, who was behind me.
I grabbed a fistful of Nicholas’s shirt. “I’m not leaving you, you big dumb idiot.” I whipped my head around and shot Quinn a glare. “Take one more step. I dare you.” I knew full well he’d planned to sneak up on me and toss me over his shoulder. He paused, knowing equally well that I’d damage him if he tried.
He did it anyway.
I was suddenly airborne and then draped over his shoulder, which dug painfully under my ribs. “It’s just faster this way,” he said.
I shifted, cursing. “Put me down, you undead asshat.”
“Just trying to save your ungrateful life,” he shot back with grim cheer. I punched him right in the ass since I couldn’t reach any other part of him. “Ready, Kieran?”
All I could see was the melted snow at his feet. The clacking of jaws got louder and the smell of burning metal and rubber was noxious. I coughed. Quinn dashed ahead, Kieran running all out to keep up. And then Quinn stumbled to such an abrupt halt that I swung uncomfortably, getting queasy. I held onto his belt as all the blood rushed to my head. “What’s going on?” I tried to peer around. “Hello?”
“Mom,” Quinn said, startled.
“Thank God,” I said, feeling like we might have a chance for the first time that night. “Put me down.” I pinched his butt this time instead of punching it.