Magic Slays (Kate Daniels 5)

"Done?" he breathed out. "Hmm?"

"Are you done?"

"Baby, I haven't even started."

"Oh good. Go ahead so I can finish it." And how exactly was I going to do that?

Curran pushed me harder, grinding me into the wall. "I'm waiting. Show me what you've got."

"Let go and I will."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Promise me you won't do this thing and I'll let go."

I just stared at him.

Curran spun away, took two steps, and punched the wall. "Damn it." The wall disintegrated in an explosion of bricks. I pulled a piece of gauze from my pocket and wiped the blood from my nose. There wasn't much. Occupational hazard of picking a fight with a man who killed gods for a living.

Curran let out a ragged snarl and punched the other wall. It burst and the entire wreck of the house came down in a fountain of dust. He shook his hand, his knuckles bloody.

"Bricks are hard," I told him patiently, as if to a child. "Don't hit bricks. No, no."

Curran picked up a brick and snapped it in half.

Idiot. "Oh, you're so strong, Your Majesty."

Curran hurled the chunks of the brick. They cleared the ruins and vanished into the Unicorn.

"If Derek were in trouble, you'd risk your life in a heartbeat."

He turned to me. "Risk, yes. I wouldn't slit my own throat for him. I like Julie. She is a great kid. But I love you. I forbid you to do this."

"That's not the way this mating works. You don't get to order me to do things, and I don't get to tell you what to do. That's the only way we can survive, Curran."

He swallowed. "Fine. Then I will ask. Please, don't do this. Please. That's as much as I can bend, Kate."

"Do you remember when I told you that you couldn't fight Erra, that it was stupid and reckless, because she would drive you insane?"

Curran's face snapped into his flat Beast Lord mask.

"I begged you not to go. Begged." I closed the distance between us. "You told me that you don't get to cherry-pick your battles and you came anyway."

"And we won."

"And you were in a coma for two weeks. Give me another brick so I can beat you over the head with it. I told you! I told you her magic would screw you up. Did you listen? No. Would you do it again?"

"Of course I would," he snarled. "She kicked your ass twice. I wasn't going to let you walk in there alone. She was a challenge and it was my job."

"And my job is to keep Julie safe. Opening the device alone won't be enough. I'll need someone to channel the magic into me. I'm going to ask the witches for help. I promise you that if Evdokia says no, I will let it go."

Curran stared at me, his eyes furious molten gold. "I'm not going to run off, lop the top off the device, and slice Julie's throat. I might as well just murder her in that case. I'll have to speak with Doolittle about my blood. I'll have to arrange things with the witches. I'll have to talk to Kamen and see if the device can even be opened without triggering a giant explosion. I give you my word that if things look hopeless at any point, I will stop. Meet me halfway. That's all I'm asking."

His face was grim.

"You have to let me at least try. I can't just sit on my hands and do nothing."

"If I keep you from doing this, you will leave me," he said.

"I didn't say that." Giving an ultimatum to Curran was like waving a red cloak in front of a mad bull.

"You will. Maybe not right this second. But eventually you'll walk away." Curran took a long deep breath. "I sit in on every meeting."

I had won.

"As long as you're honest with me about your chances, I'll support you. Kate, if you lie, it's over."

I crossed my arms. "You expect me to lie."

"I don't. I'm just getting it out there so there are no surprises."

We stared at each other.

"Are we cool?" he asked.

"I don't know, you tell ..."

He pulled me over to him and kissed me. It was a hell of a kiss.

We broke apart.

"You talk too much," he said.

"Whatever, Your Fluffiness." I slid close to him, so his arm was around my shoulder. I felt better. He did, too--his posture lost some of the tension.

We walked to the car and kept walking. "Where are we going?"

"To the Temple," Curran said. "I owe you another cookbook."

IN THE THREE HOURS WE'D BEEN GONE, THE STEAK house had been transformed into the Pack's field headquarters. Groups of shapeshifters patrolled the road and guarded the building. Knowing Jim, sentries lay in wait, hidden and watching for an enemy's approach. People were crawling on the roof, installing a ballista and machine guns.

The parking lot lay empty, but the field behind the building was filled with cars spaced about ten feet apart. If the Keepers launched a rocket into our parking lot, not every vehicle would go up in flames. I hoped they tried something. My hands itched for my sword.

Curran parked in the front. Jackson, one of the guards, ran out and Curran tossed him the keys.

Jim met us at the door. Behind him Derek emerged. He looked like death: pale, his eyes bleak.

Shit.

I stopped. Curran's hand brushed mine, and then he went off with Jim.

Derek came to a stop in front of me.

"Is she dead?" I asked.

"No. She's sleeping."

I exhaled. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

"If I hadn't--"

"Please, don't flatter yourself. We both know the kid needed about five years of hard training before he could've taken her on. Your little beating made absolutely no difference."

"She's ... there is no change."

"That's good news," I told him. "Any change now will be for the worse. I need to have her stable, until I can get my ducks in a row."

He glanced at me. "Kate, you can't help her."

"I can try. Are you going to help me or will you just stand there and mope?"

His head snapped up. Much better.

"Are the witches here?"

"Yes. The Russians are here too, and they're pissed."

Oh good. "Where are they?"

"In the back of the main room." "Find Barabas, tell him I need him to attend. And when Curran is done with Jim, tell him that I'm holding the meeting until he can join us." I wouldn't want His Arrogance to miss anything. "And fetch the staff, please."

Derek took off. I strode inside the steak house.

GRIGORII WAS TALL AND THIN. HIS PLAIN BLACK robe hung on his shoulders like wet laundry on a coat hanger. Chernobog's volhv's long black hair, shot through with gray, framed a severe face with hazel eyes under thick eyebrows and a hooked nose that made him look like a bird of prey. You half expected him to clench his talons, let out an eagle shriek, and tear you to pieces. A black raven perched on Grigorii's shoulder. Behind Grigorii's chair, Roman waited, looking about as happy as the groom at a shotgun wedding.