Fatal Ties: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Lillim Callina Chronicles Book 7) (6 page)

The ground beneath my feet lurched, throwing me and everyone else off our collective feet. As I smacked painfully into the pavement, the buildings to my left collapsed into a sinkhole the size of Madagascar, and a single serpentine claw burst from the earth and came crashing down with enough force to drop an entire city block into the sewer.

“
H
oly mother of frig
!” I cried for the second time today. I scrambled to my feet as deafening roar erupted from the gaping sinkhole in the earth. My eardrums popped, and a blast of warm air hit me like a fetid breath. The smell of rotten eggs and dead fish twisted my insides as I unslung my swords and bit down the rising panic inside me. I could freak out later. For now, I had to confront whatever the heck that was.

All around me werewolves and Dioscuri were clambering back into position with a sort of serious determination that made me think this had happened many times before.

Maybe it had. Maybe it was old hat. I mean, I’d just gotten here, but still. Still!

An unnatural chill crawled over my skin as the serpentine claw raked furrows through the asphalt before disappearing back into the depths of the earth. I wasn’t sure why it was retreating, but as the sound of a billion footsteps rushing forward, loud even over the ringing in my ears, I almost wished we were facing whatever that had been. Sure it was big, but it was still just one creature, and I would almost always rather face one monster than many of them. Unfortunately, as a horde of undead charged forth from the hole the serpent had left in its wake, I knew today wishes were not horses.

Vikings outfitted in rotting furs and carrying chipped axes and dented shields surged forward, making me think the incoming army had been raiding the armory of the dead for a while. Then again, if these were just grunts to throw at us, what did it matter what they were armed with? After all, enough ants could bring down a raging buffalo.

Before I could blink, werewolves leapt the line of Dioscuri, bursting into the fray and tearing into the overwhelming ranks of the undead Vikings. Even though the werewolves were massive, they were ground underfoot almost immediately. There were just too many of the undead, and worse still, they didn’t even have to stop and fight the werewolves. If their goal was to overrun us with numbers, and it certainly seemed like it was, they just had to run by and ignore the werewolves. After all, what did it matter if the wolves took down a couple dozen Vikings if there were thousands of them?

By the time Thes got to his feet, he’d already shifted into werewolf form, and it was truly a sight to behold. His golden fur gleamed like spun sunlight, and he was so ripped, I almost expected his abs to have abs of their own.

A trumpet blast filled my ears, drawing my gaze back toward the battlefield in time to see a twenty-five foot tall giant lope up from behind the line of Vikings. It paused, surveying the surroundings before leaping into the air. It landed beside a werewolf with enough force to crack the street. Before the werewolf could whirl on the giant, the massive creature punted him hard enough to turn him into jelly.

As it happened, Thes roared loud enough for my fight-or-flight reflex to go absolutely berserk. His golden fur rippled in the sunlight as he leapt like a molten god. He cleared the couple hundred feet between us and the giant in a single bound and slammed into the giant’s chest with enough force to send the massive creature crashing backward into the Vikings rallying behind it.

The wet smack of the giant’s flesh on stone turned my stomach in a purely visceral way as the blood of those behind him squelched out across the battlefield like a smashed ketchup packet.

Werewolves united behind Thes as he tore the throat out of the giant, his eyes already fixed on another target. Blood fountained into the air as he raised his head and howled.

The sound shattered what little of my hearing remained and that was before a hundred other werewolves joined in. There was power in that cry. I could feel it throbbing in the air, and if I wanted to, I knew I could grab hold of it.

As that thought occurred to me, the line of Dioscuri stepped forward and harnessed that power. They flung it into the oncoming horde. Bolts of lightning, fireballs, and every other manner of magical projectile struck the rushing wave, and as it did, I realized the truth.

It didn’t matter.

Not even a little.

As Vikings went down under the hail of magic, their brethren charged over them, grinding them underfoot. They slammed into the line of Dioscuri, driving them backward across the street under the overwhelming weight of their numbers. Before I could stop myself, I charged forward and leapt over the Dioscuri’s heads.

I slammed down onto a Viking, knocking him to the ground as I called upon my power and went to work. My swords danced in my hands, cutting down Vikings with every swing. Only they didn’t seem to care. For the most part, they ignored me, concentrating on breaking the line of Dioscuri behind me. Which made sense. They were still pouring from the hole in a nearly endless supply of fresh soldiers.

Casualties didn’t matter for them, and I wasn’t sure when it would stop, or if it would stop, but for every enemy I killed, ten more joined the fight. Besides, they were already dead. For all I knew, they were just getting back out of the respawn-o-meter down below. No wonder they didn’t care. This wasn’t going to work. There were way too many Vikings to hold back with traditional methods. No, we needed something big and game changing. I took a deep breath. I knew how to get something big and game changing.

“Connor,” I cried, swinging my gaze toward him while driving my wakazashi through the throat of a particularly hairy Viking. “Do something destroyer!” As I said the words, hot sticky blood splattered across my face.

“No!” Thes cried, his voice a booming crescendo across the battlefield. Blood stained his fur as he threw off the Viking clinging to his back and bounded toward me, savagery in his eyes. “Don’t do it, Connor!” Thes tossed a Viking who got in his way aside like the guy weighed as much as a bag of potato chips before leaping into the air and crashing down on the woman in front of me just as she swung her axe in my direction.

The bone splitting crack of her skull turning to paste on the concrete shocked me enough I that wasn’t able to do anything other than stare at Thes open mouthed. It was a poor decision because Thes reached out and grabbed me around the throat in an overwhelming display of werewolf badassery. Dammit, didn’t he know we were on the same side?

“Connor cannot succumb to the darkness even a little. If he does, he could be lost forever,” Thes snarled, spittle spraying from his thousand-toothed maw as he hoisted me off my feet by my neck and pulled my face close to his muzzle. His warm breath danced along my skin as he eyed me carefully. “Do you understand, Lillim?”

“Screw that noise!” I said, driving the twin blades of Shirajirashii into his stomach and tearing them out of him in a spray of blood and thicker bits. His eyes opened wide in shock as his hand spasmed around my throat. So what did I do? As I landed on my feet, I kicked him in the chest and sent him sprawling onto his back.

“Connor!” I called, turning to face him as Thes started to tuck his insides back into his belly. I wouldn’t have long, he was already practically healed thanks to his innate werewolfness. “Do as I say! The darkness only wins if you let it, and I believe in you!”

Connor was next to me so quickly it was like he’d materialized there. Hell, maybe he had. “You do?” His question seemed to weigh on my conscience like a thousand pounds as I met his gaze. His power hit me square in the soul with enough force to nearly drive me to my knees. It was bad. Worse than anything I’d ever felt, and I actually controlled the Egyptian deification of darkness. Still, I knew one thing. Anyone could be redeemed in the right circumstances. After all, even the villain is the hero of his own story.

“Yes,” I said as Thes lunged for me. His shoulder slammed into my chest like a runaway train. Breath exploded from my lungs as my feet left the ground and I flew backward into the wall of Vikings surrounding us in a giant circle.

I wasn’t sure why they’d cleared a space around Thes and I. Maybe it was because they were too busy killing our friends or maybe it was because they just wanted Thes and I to kill each other. Either way, I guess it was for the best. If I had to fight them and Thes, I’d have been pissed, and when I got pissed, I did stupid things. No one on this battlefield would survive with their sanity if I did that.

“No!” Thes cried, suddenly looming over me with one huge fist rearing up to crush my skull like a casaba melon. I hadn’t even seen him move, but I was hoping that was because I’d been distracted by the whole “nearly having my chest caved in” thing.

Sure, Thes was quicker than I remembered, but I was faster. Not by a lot, but by enough. I stopped his attack with a knee to the groin. His eyes bugged out of his head as I called upon my power. Red and blue sparks danced across my skin as I grabbed him by his high and mighty werewolf throat and flung him through the Vikings like a bowling ball.

As he cleaved through a line of Norse undead, the sound of snapping bones and road rash made my stomach twist. Still, I ignored it. Thes would be up in a second, and now he’d be angrier, which would be totally awesome. It was time to put a dent in him before he got uppity. If I didn’t prove who was the alpha dog here and now, Thes would keep coming.

I shut my eyes in concentration and pulled on the power of Shirajirashii. Energy crackled along my skin as I held Set up toward the sky and let loose a wordless cry. Then I did the one thing only really powerful Dioscuri ever did. I summoned a god. Actually, I lied. I summoned two gods.

A bolt of crimson lightning exploded from the cloudless sky, slamming into the empty space between Thes and I. He was already on his feet and racing toward me when the ground between us turned to molten glass that congealed into two figures, a man and a woman.

“It’s been a while, Thes.” Isis took a step forward and narrowed her cold eyes at Thes, her pale flesh practically blinding in the light of the sun.

“You!” Thes cried, and before I realized what was happening, he’d leapt upon the goddess and wrapped his hands around her throat.

Set ignored his sister’s plight and turned to look at me. His black as coal skin darkened as he surveyed the battlefield and snorted. “What would you have me do, Lillim?” His eyes blazing like flaming rubies.

“Kill them.” I pointed at the horde pressing into the Dioscuri line. Set nodded as crimson flames swept outward from his outstretched hands and incinerated a block of soldiers. As he did, I felt my vision go ten kinds of blurry. I didn’t have the power to keep them both manifested for long.

“I said I was sorry,” Isis, said, grabbing Thes by the back of his neck and tossing him toward the sinkhole like a naughty puppy. He hit the ground and as he did, Isis appeared in front of him and pinned him to the asphalt with her knee. Blue flame erupted all around her and I realized she was trying to buy me time without actually hurting Thes.

That meant I had to get Connor to do something before Thes came back over me and tried to feed me my own teeth. If I didn’t, well, I had one last trick up my sleeve. I really didn’t want to use it, if I didn’t have to, but even though it’d make me relive the worst memories of every person on this battlefield, I would.

“Connor, if you don’t do something now, I will never forgive you.” I turned and glared at him, doing my best to give him the same look my mother gave me when I used to say stuff was too hard or too unfair. “Understand?”

“Yeah,” he replied, and there was a lot of responsibility in that single word. Way more than there should have been, and I wondered if maybe he and Thes had maybe had this fight before, maybe more than once. Only, now I was giving him permission. “I understand.”

“Good,” I said, nodding to him as Thes threw off the dozen Vikings dogpiled on top of him and got slowly to his feet. The look in his eyes told me I’d crossed a line, and there’d be no coming back. That was fine, I was all about lines and the crossing thereof.

“Leave and I won’t unmake you.” Connor’s voice boomed across the battlefield as darkness rose up around him like a rising serpent. My heart hammered in my chest, and the hair on the back of my neck stood straight up. Vikings, Dioscuri, and werewolves alike stopped everything to turn and look at him as he raised one hand in front of himself and pulled every last speck of power from the air. It pulsated in front of him like a damned spirit bomb. “You have twenty seconds to comply.”

No one moved, and it got so quiet I could have heard a pin drop. Time seemed to stretch out in front of us as the darkness in Connor’s hand began to throb. Little tentacles of oily black power reached outward, swatting at the air, and as they did, they seemed to draw the color from the surroundings, leaving every just a little washed out.

“Five, four, three.” Connor shut his eyes, and the tentacles grew until it was like Connor held a kraken in his bare hand. Those tentacles writhed and multiplied ten, no, a hundred fold. They leapt out across the length of the battlefield and swatted at the air just above the horde. “Two, one.”

As the tentacles lashed out, I nearly lost my lunch. The only reason I didn’t was because there was nothing inside me to come out. As it stood, I fell to my knees dry heaving. The tentacles didn’t crush the Vikings, nor did it tear them to shreds. No, instead tentacles ripped the Vikings into bits of indistinguishable gore while others knit the pieces of rent Vikings back together into a hideous tapestry of blood and slimy bits. Then those were unmade.

It all happened in an eye blink. That was how long it took to reduce the thousands of Vikings into an ankle deep pool of sludge that glimmered in the sun high overhead, and yet, somehow, Connor had managed not to hurt a single werewolf or Dioscuri. It was amazing. And frightening as hell. I knew in that moment I’d kill him. Nothing could make me feel that way and be allowed to live. I also knew Thes had been wrong. Connor couldn’t be saved. He was too dangerous to even try and save.

“It’s done.” Connor turned toward me as the darkness in his hand dissipated, and the ichor covering the street began to flow back into the sinkhole. “How’d you like my whole Robocop thing?” He gave me a smile that was brittle at the edges.

“It was clever.” I shrugged, hoping I kept my discomfort off my face as I took a step toward him. The battlefield was a mess, and Connor had done it without even breaking a sweat. The fact he could do
this
made everything inside me want to just give up and die. There was no dealing with power like this because the moment it turned on you, well, I didn’t need to finish that thought.