Magic Binds (Kate Daniels 9)

Teddy Jo fell from the sky.

I jumped one way, Barabas jumped the other, and Teddy Jo crashed between us like a rock. He rolled to his feet, huge wings sweeping the ground. Blood spattered his face and chest. Above us Christopher flew up, getting ready for another dive.

“That’s an avatar!” Teddy Jo snarled at me. “Damn it, Kate!”

“I didn’t know! Where is your sword?”

“I don’t have it! I can’t fight him without the sword.”

Of all the times to not bring the flaming sword.

“Get inside before he hurts himself!” Barabas pointed at the door.

“Himself?” Teddy Jo turned purple in the face.

Christopher plummeted from the sky and landed in front of the doorway, blocking the entrance with his wings.

The car. It was our only option.

“Stay behind me.” I put myself between Teddy Jo and Christopher and began moving sideways toward the Jeep. The back row of seats was down. If he folded his wings, he’d fit.

“Chris.” Barabas approached Christopher, his arms raised, open palms up. “Hey. It’s me. Calm down. It’s okay.”

Christopher pulled his wings to him, covering himself completely. The wings snapped open and he took off into the air. The wind blast knocked Barabas off his feet.

“Run!” I pushed Teddy Jo toward the Jeep.

He sprinted across the lawn. Christopher swooped over him. Teddy Jo landed by the Jeep, pressing against it. I covered him, trying to block Christopher’s access. Julie crouched next to me. Teddy Jo pushed us aside and dashed around the car, wedging himself into the narrow space between the two vehicles. Christopher dived at him, but the gap was too narrow. He flew up, circling. I saw his mouth open and clamped my hands over my ears.

Christopher shrieked and the world drowned in fear. My thoughts scattered . . .

So afraid . . .

Have to run.

. . .

I heard myself screaming.

Barabas was screaming next to me, abject terror turning his face into a bloodless mask. Julie was on the ground, curled into a ball.

Curran leapt over the seven-foot fence and ran to me.

“Help!” I yelled.

He looked up, his eyes following Christopher back and forth as he circled us in the air. Curran’s muscles tensed. He gathered himself, jumped up as if shot out of a cannon, knocked Christopher out of the air, and landed on top of him on the ground.

Christopher tried to rise. Curran’s body twisted into warrior shape, packing on muscle and pounds. He strained, keeping Christopher down.

I threw myself on him, adding my weight to Curran’s. Barabas landed on the other side, clamping Christopher’s left arm. Julie grabbed Christopher’s leg.

“Christopher,” Barabas called. “We’re all safe. You don’t have to hurt anyone. Nobody’s in danger . . .”

Christopher snarled, baring his fangs, and stood up, heaving all of us up with him.

“Curran!” I yelled.

“I’ve got him.” Curran’s body thickened again. He was almost completely lion now. Hundreds of pounds of weight, but Christopher was still standing.

“Chris!” Barabas called.

Christopher screamed. Every nightmare I’d ever had came together and punched me in the face.

. . .

I had to stay. I had to hold him down. I had to or he would kill Teddy Jo.

I had to protect Teddy Jo.

Tears wet my cheeks.

Behind me Maggie shot out of the house, barking at the top of her lungs, and bit Curran’s ankle.

“Julie,” he growled.

She let go of Christopher, grabbed the little dog, and carried Maggie back into the house. Every muscle in my body shook under the strain of keeping Christopher down.

A rider on a black horse galloped up and dismounted.

“I’ve got this,” Roman called out. “I’ve got this!”

He reached between us and stuffed a clump of dark fabric into Christopher’s mouth.

Christopher flailed. My legs left the ground and I swung free above the grass.

Roman’s staff opened its eyes. He thrust it into the ground. Magic shifted around us.

“Syra mat zemlya, ne dershi ty ego!”

Christopher sank into the ground up to his hips. Curran grabbed his right arm, while Barabas wrapped himself around his left.

“That ought to do it,” Roman said. “Greeks and their wings. Flying here, flying there, screaming their heads off, scaring the horse.”

The fashion division of Clan Nimble applauded from the doorway. Nice of them to help.

“Christopher,” Barabas called. “Christopher!”

Christopher ignored him.

Sometimes an educated guess is the best you’ve got. “Deimos?”

Christopher’s face snapped toward me.

“Deimos?” Barabas asked, his voice hitting a high note.

“Son of Ares, the Greek god of war, and Aphrodite, the goddess of love.”

“A god?” Barabas asked. “What is he a god of?”

“Terror.”

Christopher stared at me. If looks could kill, I’d be down on the ground breathing my last breath.

“How?” Curran asked me.

Gods couldn’t manifest except during a flare. “I have no idea. Deimos must’ve been inside Christopher and he saw Teddy Jo, recognized him as Thanatos, and lost his mind.”

The Johns Hopkins psychiatrist did say Christopher would need an incentive to want to heal. This was not what I had in mind.