Part 27 (1/2)
Jack squeezed her hand. ”I do, Pete.” He breathed in and the magic crackled around him, the Black leaching from the ether to gather and swarm.
Pete shut her eyes. Jack exhaled and said, ”Cosain.”
The s.h.i.+eld hex blossomed, growing and spreading outward, a stone bubble that decimated the circle of sorcerers, breaking bones and b.l.o.o.d.ying faces. The hex coalesced and held, s.h.i.+mmering against the night light. ”In my bag,” said Jack, indicating a battered satchel with his chin. ”Take out the hammer and the coffin nail while I hold the hex, will you, luv?”
Pete dug in the satchel, which contained any number of unpleasantly slimy and smelly things, and pulled out a wooden mallet and a large square-headed nail. The nail sent a jolt of white-heat magic through her hand when she touched it.
”Here.” She nudged them into Jack's hands.
”Cheers,” he muttered. ”Here goes b.l.o.o.d.y nothing.”
Jack closed his eyes and knelt in front of Treadwell's burial spot, raising the coffin nail and the hemlock hammer. ”Algernon Treadwell!” he commanded. ”I call you forth to face me. Arise, spirit!” He hit the nail. ”Rise!” Again and again the hammer fell, driving the nail into the earth to the hilt.
Outside the s.h.i.+eld hex, the sorcerers regained their feet but they simply stood, watching, burning witchfire the only sign of life.
”Jack&” Pete touched his shoulder. The expectancy of the sorcerers, their smiles, sent a chill stronger than any magic through her.
”Treadwell!” Jack shouted again. ”Come on, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d! Come here and meet me!”
With a tiny sigh, a point of silver light blossomed, like a pinpoint into another world. Petty and theatrical as always, Jack Winter Petty and theatrical as always, Jack Winter.
”No,” Jack replied as Treadwell coalesced. ”No, this time I'm just sending you back. Nothing petty about it.”
Treadwell's hollow silver eyes fastened on Pete. Your mage should learn to mind his hexes. As I am challenged, so I begin Your mage should learn to mind his hexes. As I am challenged, so I begin.
The spirit exhaled Latin under his breath, and Jack grabbed his head, teeth grinding. The s.h.i.+eld hex wavered and went out, and two sorcerers jumped in to pull Pete away from Jack, who went to his knees.
Treadwell raised Jack's chin, one long-taloned ice finger digging a bead of blood out of Jack's skin. So easy. So very disappointing So easy. So very disappointing.
”Jack&” Pete flung herself against her captors. ”Jack!”
”Kill me, if you will,” Jack growled. His eyes were blue fire, no white or iris left. ”But believe that I'll pull you right down into the bleak city with me, you hollowed-out misty w.a.n.ker.”
/ believe, but you are so very wrong about me, Jack. Your death is not my desire. Contrary to all presuppositions, you have made yourself useful believe, but you are so very wrong about me, Jack. Your death is not my desire. Contrary to all presuppositions, you have made yourself useful.
”The f.u.c.k are you on about?” Jack demanded.
Your mind is corrupted and your talents are weak and fleeting, ensnared by too many bargains, Treadwell hissed. But your bodyyour body will do admirably But your bodyyour body will do admirably.
For the first time that Pete had seen, Jack faltered and looked utterly displaced.
”What the f.u.c.k are you on about?” he managed. ”You dead never make any b.l.o.o.d.y sense.”
It was a simple thing, Winter&to draw you out, and to draw you to me. All it took was a stroke to your pride, to give you a chance to best me. And you appeared, you and your form, mine for the taking.
”The bansidhe. The Arkanum,” Pete whispered. Tread-well froze the air around him, and her cheeks and fingers were numb.
Lures, Treadwell agreed. The correct ones, it appears. Not enough to stop the crow-mage, but enough wind to change his flight The correct ones, it appears. Not enough to stop the crow-mage, but enough wind to change his flight.
”You think I don't have a plan?” Jack snarled at him. ”That I'd just rush in any door you opened?”
I think you cannot resist the chance to prove what a wicked sort of man you are, Treadwell said. And I do not think that you have any more plan now than you did when I killed you the first time And I do not think that you have any more plan now than you did when I killed you the first time.
Treadwell laughed, a steam hiss across the surface of Pete's mind, and at his gesture one of the sorcerers stepped in behind Jack and drove a long knife into his kidneys.
Rebirth is painful, of course, Treadwell murmured. Transformation is by definition an agony of the soul. But rest a.s.sured, crow-mage, I've only brought you to the brink of deaththe thin place of this world Transformation is by definition an agony of the soul. But rest a.s.sured, crow-mage, I've only brought you to the brink of deaththe thin place of this world.
”Now he gets into the body,” said a sorcerer. ”And he'll be corporeal.” A frission of excitement spread through the circle.
Pete heard someone screaming, a single ”No” repeated over and over, the word running together into speechless cries. Her mouth went dry and she realized the voice belonged to her.
”Master Treadwell,” the sorcerer holding her called. ”What about the woman?”
Kill her, Treadwell told him. She is polluted by the mage She is polluted by the mage.
”Oh, G.o.d, Jack, I'm so sorry,” Pete moaned. Jack lay perfectly still, his eyes open, plain and staring upward. His fingers twitched ever so slightly, and his chest barely rose.
The sorcerer with the knife came toward Pete and the two holding her jerked her head back, exposing her throat. ”Oi,” said one. ”We could 'ave a go before you cut her.”
”Or after,” said the other.
The sorcerer with the knife hesitated. ”Be quick about it.” Behind him, the others rushed to encircle Jack with chalked sigils, light candles at the five points of the star, spread their web around him. Treadwell gazed down at Jack hungrily, stroking spectral fingers over and through through Jack's flesh, causing him to moan and convulse each time those terrible talons sank into his skin. Jack's flesh, causing him to moan and convulse each time those terrible talons sank into his skin.
”Hold her arm, Hodges& there's a lad,” said the sorcerer who didn't care if Pete was alive or dead for his business.
”I swear,” Pete gritted. ”If you get close enough, I'll b.l.o.o.d.y well end you.”
”Shut it,” said Hodges. ”You're just lucky it's us and not Master Treadwell.”
They laughed, Hodges loudest of all, and his grip loosened a fraction. Pete twisted down and to the side, ripped her right arm free, and drove her two longest fingers into Hodge's throat. He made a rasp like a saw and dropped to his knees.
”b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l&” started the first.
”Forget it,” said the second. ”Treadwell's starting the spell. Finish her and be quick about it, 'less you want to explain to him why we weren't standing in the circle.”
The circle of magicians began chanting in Latin, forming around Jack. The sorcerer with the knife made a swipe for her, but Pete grabbed the knife above the blade, fighting the sorcerer for it, gaining a hold and breaking the man's wrist.
He screamed, and Pete looked at the last, her blood racing in time with the swelling gusts of the Black swirling around them. She had to do something, with no magic and no power of her own.
Pete turned the knife in her hand, placing the tip against her own abdomen.
You can hurt and bleed and die in the thin s.p.a.ces.