Master of Honor (Merlin's Legacy 5) Page 10

  It could be a trick, a skeptical voice said in the depths of his mind. If he went along with this, he might well be delivering humanity to its destruction.

  No, he realized, staring into those huge hazel eyes. That’s Cheryl. He could see her in there -- the same fire, will, and intelligence that had attracted him all those years ago in a Charleston bookstore. But that’s no guarantee Gaia isn’t using her.

  Her hand whipped out so fast he barely saw it, clamping around the back of his neck. “This time, choose me, Ulf. I need you. And not just to activate that gate generator. Gaia’s plan won’t work without you. The Hive scout will kill me.”

  Centuries of being Arthur’s loyal knight went to war with three decades of loving Cheryl Parker. He remembered the bright joy of her smile in a Charleston bookstore, piercing his lingering depression like a shaft of sunlight.

  He remembered her pained, terrified, determined gaze as she’d labored to give birth to Adam thirty-eight years ago. The devastated betrayal on her face ten years later when he’d obeyed Arthur and walked out on her and their child.

  He couldn’t betray her again. Not even for Arthur Pendragon. Ulf straightened and turned toward the stairs to the armory. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Ulf’s armory was a cavernous room with a ceiling high enough to allow the swing of a sword or axe. The walls were lined with weapons -- swords, axes, pikes, and a staggering variety of guns. A mannequin stood to one side in the gold armor designed to resist werewolf claws and fangs. He headed for it.

  “Don’t bother,” Cheryl told him. “It wouldn’t stop the scout’s magical attacks. I’ll create a suit for you when we get back to Mortal Earth.”

  Ulf blinked at that, but realized she was probably right. He changed course to the golden disk lying on the sawdust-covered floor. The gate generator. “Cheryl’s home,” he told it as she hurried to join him.

  A point of light appeared over the disk, rapidly expanding into a wavering oval. With an audible sigh of relief, Cheryl stepped through it.

  Ulf followed, and found himself in Cheryl’s living room, the gate’s destination disk lying on the floor by his booted foot. Cheryl had stopped just beyond the gate, her head back and her eyes closed, breathing deeply through her nose.

  When her eyes flashed open again, they sparked in the crackling, alien blue sparks of Gaia’s magic. A shudder ran the length of her body and she blew out a breath, straightening her shoulders in relief.

  Ulf knew how that felt. He had the same reaction whenever he returned to the Mageverse after being too long on Mortal Earth. It must have been even worse for Cheryl in the Mageverse, where she couldn’t draw on her power at all.

  Her clothing vanished in a swirl of magic, and a shadow rolled over her, accompanied by dancing multicolored sparks. Something surfaced on her skin, covering it completely in… feathers? Scales? Some delicate blend of the two?

  Whatever they were, in the space of a heartbeat, they covered her in iridescent blue plumage that shimmered as she moved. Even tinier feathers covered her face, lengthening into long plumes where her hair had been. For a moment he thought she had shape-shifted into some alien creature, but as he looked closer, he realized the lines of her face and body were no different.

  Cheryl saw the way he was staring at her, his mouth agape. She smiled slightly and shrugged. “It’s my armor. Now it’s your turn.” She reached out to lay a hand on his cheek.

  Her palm felt soft and slick under its layer of tiny pinfeathers. Magic rolled from her fingers, pouring over his skin like ice water. His clothing seemed to turn liquid under her touch as a wave of sparks bit and stung his skin. Ulf hissed in a breath. It wasn’t a friendly magic.

  “Sorry about that,” she told him as she pulled away, flexing her hand as if it hadn’t been pleasant for her either. “Our magic isn’t really compatible, but you’d be vulnerable to the scout’s without it.”

  Ulf looked down to find armor now covered him. It looked like a cross between the Magekind’s golden plate and her own feathered mail, the chest plate, pauldrons, gauntlets, greaves, and boots made of a crystalline material that reminded him of his old signet ring. Not metal, exactly -- more like layers of iridescent quartz. Feathered scales similar to hers covered his arms and legs. They shimmered in glory in the den’s lighting. “It’s… beautiful,” he said quietly. “But I thought you couldn’t cast a spell on me.”

  Cheryl shrugged. “No, but I can cast a spell around you.” Her eyes narrowed. “Now we need the weapon. Come on.” She headed across the den to the door he knew led down to the basement. He followed her down the stairs, their booted feet clattering on the wooden steps.

  A soft alien glow drew his eye to the rear wall. A pike hung there, resting on a pair of brackets. An axe head rode its seven-foot shaft, tipped in a spear point. When she walked over to pick up the weapon, it crackled at her touch, the sound malevolent. Blue sparks danced along the blade’s edge as Cheryl turned and extended it to him.

  Ulf had an impulse to step back but forced himself to accept the weapon anyway. He cast a wary eye up at the magic crackling around the axe head. “Don’t you need this? Or at least a sword?”

  “I have other weapons,” she said. She lifted her hands, and claws extruded from her fingertips, each a good three inches long.

  He’d like them better if they were closer to a foot and a half. “Doesn’t look like much of a weapon.”

  “The whole point of this fight is to lure the bastard in close,” she told him.

  He shook his head. “Hand to hand is a lot harder than movie stuntmen make it look.”

  “Give Gaia some credit,” she said impatiently. “Not only did she implant those skills -- which she got from you, by the way -- she conjured all kinds of monsters and made me fight them. For hours. I’ve gone toe-to-toe with everything from werewolves to the thing from Alien.”

  “That’s how you were able to take me off guard with that rapier.” He remembered the way she moved, so fast, skilled, and utterly confident. “Gaia did a damn good job.”

  “Thank you. Now listen -- this is absolutely crucial to both of us walking away from this. I’ll cast a spell on your armor that will make you invisible. Do not try take part in this fight until I tell you to strike, because if the scout realizes you’re there, it blows the trap.”

  Ulf shot her a frown. He had fifteen centuries of combat experience and vampire muscle. Refusing to make use of them seemed like a bad idea. “You want me to just stand back and watch?”

  “Yes.” Cheryl laid a hand on his shoulder and met his eyes, hers level, confident. “I realize that isn’t going to be easy for you, but you’re going to have to trust me.”

  He digested that a moment. “And you believe you can take this scout?”

  She nodded. “Gaia has a history with the Hive. She’s also fought this particular scout before -- she recognizes his magic. He was one of the team that wounded her so badly, her body died.” She curled her upper lip in eloquent disgust. “He was the only one to survive because he saw where things were going and ran like hell. Unfortunately, that means he knows how she fights, too. What he’s not going to expect is you.” Her gaze went hard, demanding. “That’s why you cannot give yourself away. No matter how much you want to defend me.”

  His hands tightened involuntarily around the shaft of the pike. “What if you get in trouble? Every battle plan goes off the rails once a battle is joined. Not even Arthur is immune to the fog of war.”

  “Yes. And chances are this one will go sideways too.” Just for moment he saw a flash of fear in those pretty eyes. “But I’ll deal with it. My job is to lure that fucker into our trap. Your job is to be the trap.” And she explained what she had in mind.

  Ulf nodded, studying her face as she spoke, reading it with his years of experience at leading fighters into combat. When she finished explaining, he paused, wrestling with his instincts. He ached to tell her he’d take care of the scout himself while she hung back with
the pike. Trouble was, he was far more vulnerable to the scout’s magic than she was. And as she’d explained, she made better bait.

  “Yeah, I can see how that would work.” But fuck, you’re taking a risk. Because no matter how much training Gaia had given her, the closest Cheryl herself had ever been to a real fight was beating the hell out of a drunk with a carpet sweeper. Practice bouts, even with simulated monsters, just weren’t the same.

  He kept his mouth shut about all of that. Revealing your doubts was the worst thing you could do to any green warrior. Like it or not, Cheryl was going to have to fight the same creature that had killed Gaia. And Ulf had to stand back and let her do it while he waited to play his part.

  “Ulf, believe in me. Please.” The scales rolled back from her head, leaving her face bare again. He felt his own do the same, probably responding to her will. This time those hazel eyes showed no sign of Gaian sparks as Cheryl rose on her toes and tugged him down for a kiss.

  He kissed her back, hooking his free arm around her to drag her closer. The contact made his skin sting beneath his armor, reacting to the crackle of her alien magic. He ignored the pain, concentrating on pouring confidence into her mouth through that kiss. When he finally lifted his head, he told her quietly, “I do believe in you, Cheryl. You will beat the scout -- and I will not fail you. Not this time. I swear it on my honor.”

  “And I believe in you.” He glimpsed a sheen of tears in her eyes before she drew her shoulders back. “I love you.” Despite the tears, her voice sounded steady, sure. Confident, or at least faking it well.

  “And I love you. I have since the night we met, and I always will.”

  She flashed him a wicked grin. “When this is over, I’m going to fuck your brains out. Arthur Pendragon can kiss the pink part of my ass.”

  As he laughed, the scales rolled back over her face. He felt the same effect over his own.

  Cheryl turned away and gestured. A fat red spark popped in the air and dilated into a glowing, wavering oval. She shot him a measuring look and trilled an alien phrase. Everything grew distant in that way he’d learned to associate with an invisibility spell. She gestured silently at the gate.

  Ulf’s hand tightened on the shaft of the pike as he stepped through the portal, booted feet muffled by the spell. On the other side, he scanned his surroundings, looking for enemies as he stepped aside for Cheryl.

  They were in an intensive care unit, judging from floor-to-ceiling glass fronts on all the rooms, designed to allow the staff to keep an eye on critically ill patients. Not a great place to brawl with an alien killer, he thought grimly.

  A nursing station stood to the right, where people in scrubs or lab coats monitored equipment and worked on laptops. They didn’t look up -- he was, after all, invisible.

  But when Cheryl made her appearance, a woman jumped to her feet. “What the hell?”

  He supposed it wasn’t every day someone covered in iridescent feathers waltzed through a hole in the air.

  “Take a nap.” Cheryl sketched a shape in the air, and Ulf’s armor burned, reacting to the spell she cast.

  Obediently, those at the nursing station slumped across their desks, yielding to the overwhelming need to sleep. Glancing around through the ICU windows, he saw others reeling into chairs or beds, or simply stretching out on the floor. Except for one man standing by the bed of a little boy whose head was swathed in bandages. He had the rangy build and deep farmer’s tan of someone who worked in the sun. His hair was iron gray and thinning, and his long, weathered face looked perfectly ordinary. Until his black eyes fixed on Cheryl with an expression of alien greed.

  “There you are,” the scout drawled, a deep southern accent softening his consonants. With a chill, Ulf realized it must have come from the poor bastard who’d worn that face before the thing ate him. “I suspected you’d show up when I found this prey. You must care about it a great deal, to have gifted it with so much of your magic.”

  Cheryl’s eyes narrowed in cold rage. “Did you kill him?”

  The thing’s smile twisted its stolen face. “I’m saving it for dessert -- after I feast on you.”

  “Riiight. Let’s take this discussion outside.”

  “Worried about the prey?” It laughed, a chilling, high-pitched giggle. “They might find dying now preferable to feeding the Hive later.”

  It strode from the child’s room, shark gaze locked on Cheryl’s. As it moved, a black, crackling cloud flooded from it like ink from a squid.

  When the magic vanished, the thing no longer looked remotely human. It was vaguely insectoid, with four stick legs and two arms. A thick tail whipped around its body, tipped with a vicious spike like a scorpion’s. Segmented plates covered its body, and three close-set compound eyes glared from a round head equipped with jutting mandibles. It was as black as an oil spill, complete with iridescent sheen. Clawed feet clicked on the laminated wood flooring. The click became a clatter as it charged Cheryl in a blur.

  Ulf, invisible, raised his pike… and swore, remembering the plan. He stepped aside to let the thing skitter past.

  Cheryl whirled and ran, stiff-arming the automated doors. They slammed open as she sprinted through. Mandibles clicking, the creature clattered after her. Ulf bit back a curse and ran after it. He knew she hadn’t panicked. Not Cheryl. She was luring it away from all the sick, unconscious mortals.

  The bug was gaining. The thing’s spiked tail lashed, and it gathered itself to leap. Ulf’s heart pounded as his hands tightened on the pike. The hall doglegged in front of her, but Cheryl leaped, hit the wall with one foot, and kicked herself backward into a somersault. She landed astride the creature, her weight smashing it to the floor.

  Ulf blinked. Damn. Gaia has been training her.

  The bug’s spiked tail lashed up and slammed into her shoulder, rebounding off the feathered armor. Cheryl ignored the impact, driving those long spike claws into the armored plates that protected the thing’s neck.

  The tail punched again, once, twice, drops of black venom flying. She kept right on digging at the armor, grim and determined.

  The tail whipped around her torso, jerked her off the creature, and smashed her backward into the wall. He heard her gasp of pain and felt his every muscle tense with impotent rage. He had to save her!

  But he knew he couldn’t do a damn thing.

  Chapter Seven

  As Ulf watched, unable to do a damned thing, the bug thing reared onto its back legs and lunged at Cheryl’s throat, mandibles spread wide. She slammed an arm up, ramming her forearm into the mandibles as she punched the claws of her free hand into its eyes.

  The thing screeched in agony and tried to rear away, but Cheryl whipped both legs around its torso. Wrapping clawed hands around its head, she shoved violently backward. Chitinous plates creaked as she fought to break it in half.

  The creature skittered backward, trying to tear free as it raked at her with clawed arms.

  “This might have worked for you last time,” Cheryl snarled, “but I’ve made upgrades since then.” Opening her mouth, she breathed a boiling cloud of magic into the creature’s face.

  Its head burst into black flame. Burning, it made a sound so high-pitched, Ulf thought his ears would bleed as it lashed and writhed in Cheryl’s merciless grip. Something cracked, and the thing broke in half, collapsing beneath her, upper half ablaze.

  Ulf blinked, a little stunned at the violence of the fight and her vicious efficiency. What the hell did she need me for? And what about the plan?

  Cheryl leaped up and scrambled away as the flames died. Crouching, she fixed her eyes on the dead bug like a cat watching a rat hole. Sure enough, magic boiled up around the thing, spinning and expanding.

  Uh oh. The cloud expanded as Cheryl danced backward. The magic abruptly sucked inward. Where the dead creature had been, a massive thing loomed, almost brushing the ceiling. It looked like a cross between a troll and Godzilla, complete with violet scales that covered its massive frame, a dinos
aur-like head, and huge clawed hands. It had to weigh well over five hundred pounds.

  A chill rolled over Ulf. Was this a different warrior, or had the first one come back from the dead? Either way, he wouldn’t have wanted to fight it, and he was a fucking vampire. His heart sank. Merlin’s Cup, she’s got no prayer.

  It hissed, red eyes glittering above its mouthful of fangs, and charged. She watched it come. Ulf readied the pike, moving forward, eyed locking on the joint between the lizard’s skull and its thick neck.

  But the instant before the lizard could strike, Cheryl sidestepped with a graceful twist of her shoulders. Godzilla’s fist missed her by inches and rammed into the lobby wall. It fractured like an eggshell with an explosive crunch, filling the air with dust and flying concrete chips.

  The creature’s fist was sunk in the hole all the way to one scaly elbow. It jerked back, but it was trapped.

  Cheryl darted in, ducking under its extended body. Claws flashed as she raked Godzilla’s ribs. The attack didn’t do a damn thing as it finally jerked free and lunged at her head. Fanged jaws snapped a hair’s breadth from her face as she arched away, back-fisting the creature across the muzzle. It roared and swung dagger-length claws, raking her shoulder as she leaped clear.

  Hissing, it went after her with both clawed hands in a vicious series of raking attacks. She ducked, twisted, and leaped, somehow avoiding every blow with lithe agility, her own claws slashing at any part of the thing she could reach. But no matter how many times she hit it, her claws glanced off its scales. With a frustrated curse, she raced around behind the thing and scampered up its back like an organ grinder’s monkey. She whipped something long, thin, and glowing around Godzilla’s neck, snapped her legs around the lizard’s massive torso and hauled backward with all her strength, twisting the cord tight.

  A magical garrote. Must’ve conjured it.

  The muscles in her narrow back rolled under her feathered armor with the violence of her pull. Godzilla reeled backward, gagging and hissing, caught itself, jacked forward to catch its balance, then slammed backward down onto its back, landing directly on top of her. Cheryl cried out its weight crashed down on her.