Ecstasy Untamed (Feral Warriors #6)(97)

As he watched her, he went feral, his eyes turning yellow, fangs erupting from his gums, though not the huge saber teeth that would appear with his animal. With a single, brutal swipe, he laid open her cheek with his claws. Pain screamed through her face, blood running down her chin and neck and into her sweater as the wound healed and the fire died.

"Take your place," Maxim said coldly.

Blinking away the tears of pain, Faith turned, carried by feet that no longer answered to her. The girls hung in the middle, Maria whimpering, fear and pleading in her eyes. Paulina had closed her eyes, a hard expression on her face, as if she knew all too well that no one ever got rescued. Only the tears silently tracking down her young cheeks betrayed her terror. Faith's heart broke at her utter inability to help them.

Beneath the girls, carved into the stone itself, lay a wide pentagram. On a low stone pedestal directly in front of Maxim sat a bleached skull painted with crude red and gray stripes, what looked like blood and ash brushed on with nothing but fingertips. Maxim passed his hand over the skull, murmuring words too low for even her sharp Feral hearing. What was he doing? A pressure began to build in her ears, making them pop. The hair began to stand up on her skin. What was he doing?

A strange rattling noise began, and she realized that the skull had begun to shake of its own accord. Faith's breath caught, her pulse tripping with real fear as the feel of magic rose in the room, pressing in on her from every direction. The skull began to glow, subtly at first, a hint of light which grew, changing colors - blue, green, yellow. With a sudden, horrific scream of air, the skull burst into flame - an unnatural, magical fire. Shock blasted her body like a jolt of electricity, igniting inside her a low, dark burn.

Her gaze flew to Lepard's and she saw in his eyes the same horror she felt. And she knew, given the chance, he would fight Maxim, too. She spoke to him telepathically, telling him of the dark magic the animal spirits had been infected with, and of the cure.

The skull is the key, Lepard told her. It empowers him and increases his control over us. So long as he lives, none of us will ever be entirely free of him.

If we can destroy the skull?

You'll weaken his power and perhaps, since you've been cured of the Mage infection, you'll no longer be under his control at all. The darkness still has the rest of us. I fight it, but . . .

It's powerful. I know.

You're really a Feral Warrior? His voice held only surprise and curiosity.

I am. Pride flowed warmly through her, joined by a brush of approval against her mind - her falcon's.

"Only one thing more is needed to fully open this conduit." Maxim's gaze rose to hers. "Blood. Human blood."

Maria gasped.

Faith's stomach spasmed. She was going to be ill.

Maxim lifted a knife, his gaze still fastened on her. "You'll do the honors, Faith. You'll cut out their hearts."

Maria began to scream and kick. "No, Faith! No, no, no!"

Faith's scalp turned hot, then cold. Her body began to shake with the force of her will as she fought the compulsion to step forward, to cross the circle, and to take the knife. As she fought to keep Maxim from killing the girls she'd come to care for so deeply.

As she lost.

Chapter Twenty

Faith's voice rang in Hawke's head, the horror in her words turning his blood to ice. He's going to make me kill the girls. He's going to make me kill them!

Hawke knew her, knew what this would do to her. Goddess, he'd suffered for nearly a century and a half from merely harming Aren. He had to reach her. The minute Faith finished carving up the girls, Maxim would turn that knife on her, Hawke had no doubt. Maybe not to kill her. She'd only wish he had. Even if she managed to survive this, killing the girls would destroy some essential part of her.

He had to get into that castle!

If only he could shift, he could fly in to help her. Dammit. If only he could have been the Feral the hawk wanted him to be. Faith was right.

I blamed you, he told the hawk. I'm sorry for that. I failed you. In so many ways, I've failed us both.

The hawk's cry in his head had a strange quality to it. A cry without anger. Almost of . . . understanding. Forgiveness? His heart began to pound.

What would happen if he handed over control right now? Now, when the falcon was nearby, when the hawk might be ready to forgive him. Would the hawk take off again, leaving the others behind? Did he know Hawke would die if he did? Did he understand that Faith would likely die, too?

Goddess. What if he did understand? What if he could be trusted in this desperate hour?

Hawke's breaths were beginning to come fast and shallow, sweat dampening his brow. There was only one way to find out, wasn't there?

Faith needs us, buddy. I'm asking you, I'm begging you, to take me to Faith now. I'm her only hope. We're her only hope.

Goddess, what was he doing? "Take me to her" meant shifting. And what if it didn't work?

Shit, what difference did it make? What did he have to lose? His connection to the animal was all but gone.

His hands began to shake. Could he really throw his lot in with the bird? With the wildness? The memory of the day he'd attacked Aren was still too fresh. It still cut too deep. But as Faith had said, he wasn't that newly turned Feral anymore, and hadn't been for a long, long time.

And this might be Faith's only chance.