Blood Politics (Blood Destiny #4)

Blood Politics (Blood Destiny #4) Page 37

Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he lifted one hand and waved in greeting. Corrigan growled.

“A little Otherworld welcoming committee,” he called out. “How perfectly charming.”

My eyes narrowed, spitting hatred. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Well, Ms. Smith, that is a complicated question.”

Corrigan’s Voice filled my head. How in the hell does he know your name?

I shrugged tensely in response. I had no bloody idea.

“Why don’t you try to answer it?” I was impressed with the fact that I managed to keep my tone even and calm.

“I think not. You and your Lord Corrigan will just have to suffer without that knowledge. I am pleased, however, that you are here. I could feel your power in London and I was curious to find out more. Now I will get my own answers, it seems.”

He started to move towards us, with a slow almost leisurely pace, then stopped and flicked his wrist towards the old warded area. The concealment spell evaporated, revealing yet again the blackened earth and now equally scorched stump of a tree. For a half-second his features twisted, before smoothing back over into studied blandness. “I really wish you hadn’t done that.”

“Yeah?” I said, tauntingly. “Well, then you’re going to fucking hate this.”

I raised up my left hand and let the dagger fly. At the same moment Corrigan sprang forward, sprinting towards him with claws and teeth flashing. This time I knew my aim was true. It didn’t matter, however. In the half heartbeat that it took the blade to reach him, he lifted up an arm and the dagger fell uselessly to the earth. I blinked. Okay, so maybe he had a few nifty tricks then.

Corrigan leapt in the air, launching himself forward with unbridled power, but our opponent merely lifted up another arm, and he landed with a heavy thud onto the ground, in much the same manner as the dagger.

Corrigan! I screamed with my Voice.

He twitched. I’m fine, just fucking kill him. He was already starting to stagger back onto his large paws.

I ran towards my right, in order to make sure that the fucker’s attention was on me and me alone. This time I kept hold of my second dagger, and instead began to send out streams of fire. He’d built up some kind of protective ward around himself, however, and the flames bounced harmlessly off.

“Interesting,” he remarked calmly. “You are not a mage, and yet you have magical power. Tell me what you are.”

“You first,” I grunted, then changed tactics and directed my flames at the ground, creating a wall of fire between him and me. If defeating this bastard was going to mean getting up close and personal, then that was what I was going to do. I zigzagged towards him, spraying more green fire as I went. He remained standing, and unblinking, watching my progress impassively.

His right arm started to rise up again, but I was getting wise to his actions, and this time threw myself at the ground in a roll, not losing my forward momentum but still avoiding whatever weird magic he was managing to zap out. Then I straightened and halted. There were less than two feet between us, and a wall of my fire was trapping him. He smirked, crooking one finger as if to beckon me closer. I just laughed. How stupid did he think I was?

Using my one remaining dagger, I slid its point across my index finger, not taking my eyes off Mr. Freaky Mage Man. I didn’t need to look down to know that blood was already welling up. Then I flicked my finger out towards him and watched the drops curve into the air and splash against his own personal invisible ward. As soon as they hit the space about two inches from his actual body, there was a hissing sound and a puff of red steam ejected into the air. The brief flash in his eyes told me that my plan had worked – and he didn’t like it. Goody.

I sprang forward, through my own fiery barrier, and lashed out, my fist connecting satisfyingly with his face. His head smacked to the side with a snap, and there was the tinkle of glass breaking as his spectacles fell off, landing in a twisted heap onto the ground. Then Corrigan’s black shape barrelled into him, knocking him down onto the ground. He hissed out one inaudible word and, from behind, there was a sudden thunderous crack. I half turned, and gaped as, from out of nowhere, a huge monstrous shape appeared. I kicked the figure on the ground, pissed off that I’d given him the opportunity to speak and summon whatever that thing was, and he collapsed with an ooph, then lay unmoving. For good measure, and to ensure that he was down forever, I stabbed his chest in one swift motion with my remaining dagger, letting the blade slide all the way through and come out the other side. It pierced the ground, holding him in place like a staple. Satisfied, I pivoted round to face the new threat.

The thing in front of us was massive: at least eight foot tall and with a body as broad as a bull elephant. The most striking thing about it, however, was its head: a large misshapen bulge with two bright red saucer shaped eyes that, for a moment, put me in mind of Aubrey. Though the smell reeking off in stifling waves was far worse than even that of a vamp’s. It was like some horrifying mixture of skunk and wet dog. Not that I’d ever smelt a skunk before, but it was how I imagined it would be. Despite the thing’s size, it was eerily silent, not making so much as a single sound.

It lunged forward with surprising speed, and I only just managed to leap out of the way in time. Corrigan’s were-panther snapped forward, his huge jaws latching onto its hairy leg, embedding themselves deeply through its skin. Dark, almost black, blood seeped out. It lifted up its leg, trying to shake Corrigan off, but he clung on with sheer shifter tenacity. I smiled grimly, before attacking it myself, reaching out to grab its arm and force it backwards, almost as if in some kind of childish playground type stunt. Except I was trying to break the thing’s arm, not get it to call out pax.

I pulled backwards, straining with every ounce of strength and energy that I could muster, grimacing as it resisted against me. Just as I finally heard the dull snap of breaking bone, its other arm came twisting round, knocking me on the side of my head and sending me flying backwards. Hot fiery adrenaline coursed through every vein. I jumped back up to my feet, ignoring the painful throbbing across the entire right side of my face, and saw Corrigan release the creature’s leg and spring up against its chest instead, knocking it over onto the ground. The pair of them were locked together in some kind of deadly embrace, rolling and spinning this way and that. I hopped from one side to the other, trying to get an opening whereby I could finally end this. They were moving too quickly, however, and I didn’t want to miss and end up striking out at the Brethren Lord instead. Still, the only sound I could hear was Corrigan’s breath and snapping teeth. I couldn’t believe that, even with the agony the red-eyed monster must be feeling, it wasn’t so much as panting heavily in pain. It was as if someone had pressed the mute button.

Corrigan’s sharp claws were swiping at its face, etching out deep scratches and virtually ripping its skin to shreds. And yet it didn’t quit, writhing to its left, then to its right, in a bid to break free. Its unbroken arm scrabbled to gain purchase on Corrigan’s fur, succeeding in pulling out tufts here and there, although not quite managing to connect with his actual flesh. I watched it carefully, waiting for my chance.

This thing smells worse than Staines’ laundry basket, hissed Corrigan’s Voice.

Well, let’s hope it doesn’t rub off on you, I shot back sardonically.

With one great heaving movement he rolled to his side, trapping the monster’s arm underneath itself.

Are you just going to stand there and watch?

Do you mean that you need some help defeating the smelly nastie, my Lord?

Corrigan growled aloud. I half-cocked my head, pondering the situation, then calmly walked over to the beast’s head, grabbed both its ears and pulled, exposing its thick neck.

Will that do you?

He gave a feline snort, then his massive head arched upwards and his mouth opened, exposing gleaming white fangs.

It’ll have to.

Then he snapped his jaws closed onto the monster’s jugular. Dark blood sprayed out, splattering my clothes and landing on my face. Corrigan immediately sprang backwards, planting his paws by my feet. The thing choked and gurgled, the only sound it had made this entire time, before jerking once and falling still.

His green eyes slid up to me. I could have sworn there was amusement lurking in their depths as he watched me wipe off the gloopy blood from my cheek.

Was that entirely necessary?

He bared his teeth at me in what I assumed passed for a panther’s version of a cheeky grin. I rolled my eyes at him. Idiot.

“Job done,” I said aloud.

I turned back towards our besuited foe’s body. Oh, shit. My stomach dropped as I took in the scene. My dagger remained exactly where I had left it, and there was a dark stain around it indicating where it had slammed through the dryad-killer’s heart. But of the killer’s body itself, there was no sign.

Chapter Twenty-One

It didn’t make any sense. I stood there, staring in utter bafflement at the now apparently vacated spot. I leaned forward and touched the dagger gingerly with my toe, just in case his corpse was somehow now only merely invisible rather than completely vanished. Unsurprisingly, there was no camouflaged body blocking the path of my boot. He had definitely gone. What the fuck was going on?

Corrigan padded up beside me and sniffed, then looked at me with troubled eyes.

Can you smell anything?

He shook his head. I can’t get the stench of that thing out of my nostrils. It’s blocking virtually everything else.

I twisted round, raising one hand, and shot out fire towards the red-eyed beast’s body, lighting it up. Unfortunately the smell of its burning flesh only appeared to compound the problem, rather than solve it. Giving up, I turned back.

What in the hell happened, Corrigan? He couldn’t have just gotten up and walked away. I fucking killed him! The bloody dagger is still there!

He sat back heavily on his haunches. He wasn’t a ghost. He wasn’t even undead. I could smell death around him, but it wasn’t of him per se. It was more like…a perfume.