Iron and Magic

Behind him, the undead magic swelled.

Hugh spun, ready to meet the attack.

The vamp charged, red eyes blazing.

A white blur cut between him and the undead and turned into Elara, her hand locked on the bloodsucker’s throat.

What the hell was this?

The undead shuddered in her grip. It should’ve torn her in two by now.

Elara looked into its eyes and opened her mouth. “Let go.”

The vamp’s eyes flared with ruby light as the navigator bailed. Elara squeezed. He felt the faint flicker of power, a silvery veil snapping to the vamp’s hide from her fingers. Old magic licked Hugh’s senses, awakening some long-forgotten instinct buried under layers of civilization. The hair on the back of his neck rose.

The bloodsucker went limp. She released it, and it crumpled to the ground. She picked up the skirt of her green dress and stepped over it.

Exactly the same as the first time with the tikbalang. His pulse sped up. He had no idea how she did it, and he had to find out before she did it to him.

Elara tilted her head. She’d braided her hair and wrapped it into a complicated knot on the back of her head. Stray wisps escaped here and there, shining when they caught a ray of sun falling through the leaves.

Hugh straightened, resting the blade of his sword on his shoulder. “Wife.”

“Husband.”

It had been a week since their last fight. She’d been conveniently busy. Hugh had a feeling she was avoiding him. The fun question was, did she do it because she didn’t want to fight or did she do it because she looked at him a half a second too long when he stood near naked in front of her that time in the bedroom?

“You came to help me. How charming,” Hugh drawled.

“That’s me. Delightfully charming.”

A distant howl echoed through the forest. Karen had caught her prey.

“Is there something you needed?” he asked.

“We got a call from Aberdine.”

Magic was a funny thing. Sometimes it killed the phone lines, other times they worked. It mattered who made the call.

“I’m aflutter with anticipation. What did the phone call say?”

“There are sheriffs riding here from the county. I told you this would happen, and it did.”

For a second, Hugh saw red, then he wrenched himself under control with an effort of will. “What did you do?”

“I did nothing,” Elara said, her voice bitter. “Now we look guilty. They will expect us to greet them together. Try to keep up.”

She blurred and vanished. He whirled and saw her, a pale silhouette fifty yards away. A voice floated through the woods and whispered in his ear, cold and mocking. “Too slow, Preceptor.”

He sheathed his sword and took off after her. She was lying through her teeth. When he caught up to her, he would strangle her with his bare hands.

Elara waited at the edge of the forest. He should’ve been out of there by now. To the north, against the backdrop of the tall hill and the severe lines of the castle, the Waterson, Garcia, and Lincoln families were picking pears from the orchard. The pears made good wine and the way the birds had been going at them, they had to be at the peak of ripeness. A few more days and they’d get pear mush instead of fruit.

“If I chop off your head, will it grow back?”

Elara spun around and almost ran into Hugh. He loomed over her, his eyes dark, his face cold. A man that large shouldn’t have moved that quietly.

“I don’t know,” she said, keeping her voice iced over. “We could do an experiment. You try chopping off my head and I’ll try to chop off yours. We’ll see who’s left standing.”

A spark flashed in the depths of his blue irises. “Tempting.”

“Isn’t it? You just have to tell me which head you want chopped off, the top one or the one you usually think with.”

“Take your pick.”

Elara narrowed her eyes. “Maybe later. We’re being watched.”

He glanced at the two girls waving at them from the orchard. Elara waved back.

“Is that supposed to stop me?”

She hated that she had to look up to meet his gaze. “You would kill me in front of the children?”

“In a minute.”

“But you healed the dog.”

“How do you know?”

“I know everything.”

“You saw Sharif running out of the woods.”

Hugh leaned toward her half an inch. Elara fought the urge to step back. The man could project menace like a raging bull.

She forced herself to stand still and glare back at him. “The point is, a man who would save a dog wouldn’t usually do something to scar small children.”

“A completely arbitrary connection.”

“Saving a dog implies a certain set of ethics.”

“I don’t care about the children.”

Elara shrugged. “In that case, we should get on with killing each other or start walking back. The sheriffs will be here soon.”

For a moment Hugh appeared to waver, then he indicated the path to the castle with an elegant sweep of his hand. She strode down the path and he walked next to her.

The girls at the orchard waved again.

“Wave back, Preceptor. Your arm won’t break.”

Hugh spun toward the orchard with a big friendly smile on his face and blew the girls a kiss. They dissolved into giggles and ran away. He turned to her and she almost shivered at his expression.

“We had an agreement. You broke it.”

The man homed in on crucial details like a shark sensing blood in the water. “I didn’t speak to the authorities. I didn’t order anyone to inform the county. You’ve made it perfectly clear that we are wearing the same straitjacket.”

“It got out, because you wanted it to get out.”

Elara sighed. “What did you want me to do? Muzzle everyone around us?”

“I expected you to stay true to the spirit of our agreement. I know you didn’t.”

“Let’s review. I came to you, because I wanted to go to the authorities. You demanded that I didn’t. I told you it was stupid. I told you things always got out. You dug your heels in.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Wait.” She held up her hand. “Let me check if I care.”

Hugh glared at her.

“No,” she said. “Apparently, I don’t. It’s good that we got that straightened out.”

She strode up the path, climbing the hill toward the castle. He had no trouble keeping up.

“By the way, Vanessa left.” She couldn’t keep a hint of sadness out of her voice. “She packed her bags and took off last night.”

“And this makes you sad why?”

“She was one of mine.”

“I suppose you’re blaming me for it?”

“No. Her decisions are her own.”

An Iron Dog emerged from the trees, on a roan horse, a cowboy hat on her head. Irina, Elara recognized. One of Felix’s scouts. That meant the sheriffs weren’t far behind. Here comes the county.

“Take my arm,” Hugh said.

“Ugh.” She rested her hand on his forearm and slowed. They strolled toward the gates.

“Why did you heal the dog?”

“Because he did his job. Loyalty must be rewarded.” There was a touch of an edge to Hugh’s voice. “And there are practical considerations.”

“Such as?”

“The other dog died in the forest. This dog didn’t turn back. He chased the wolf down alone, tried to kill it, and did a decent enough job fighting. We’ll need to breed him. He’ll make good war dogs.”

“War dogs? To fight people?”

“And undead.”

Yes, but it wasn’t about the war puppies. It was about loyalty. She knew the story as well as everyone else: Hugh d’Ambray had served as Roland’s warlord; then they had a falling out, Roland exiled Hugh and now his pet necromancer hunted the Iron Dogs. And that’s all anyone knew. Despite everything she tried, the details of what exactly happened and why eluded her.

The way he said loyalty signaled there had to be a lot more to the whole mess. Whatever had happened between them left deep scars. She’d have to work that sore spot. If she could dig deep enough, she would figure out what made him tick. Know thy enemy. That’s the ticket.