Serpent's Kiss (Elder Races #3)(100)

Anger clogged her throat so that she could barely speak. She said, “He can’t. He’s my direct progeny, and if we get close enough together, I can still command his obedience. I assume you found all this out when you talked to Dragos?”

“Yes,” he said. He put his arms around her, and she leaned against him. He was an inferno, throwing off more body heat than ever, and against her mind’s eye he glowed molten with rage. “He ordered me home, I quit, and he didn’t take it well.” He glanced toward the bedroom. “Seremela’s gone?”

“Yes.” She leaned her forehead against his broad shoulder. “Rune, I’m sorry about Dragos.”

A sigh shuddered through him. He rested his cheek on the top of her head. “I’m sorry about Julian. But forget about them for now. Grab what you need to take with you. We’ve got to get out of here.”

She nodded and strode over to take the guns from the other two frozen ghouls. The troll did not carry a gun. Her eyesight was too weak, and her hands too large to make effective use of a handgun. When Carling turned around again, she found Rune had scooped up his duffle and her leather bag. He had also appropriated a butterscotch-colored leather jacket for her, along with matching flat-heeled leather boots.

“Here.” He tossed the boots at her. “These’re more sensible than the Christian Louboutin boots but alas, not nearly as much fun.”

She caught them and bent over to yank them on. “Fun can happen later.”

A sudden grin slashed across his face. “Later, and again, and repeatedly, I hope,” he said. “You promised. I might have stuffed one of your caftans into my duffle too, in case you want it for later.”

She straightened and gave him a lopsided smile. “You know that hairy bespectacled T-shirt you threw in the trash?” He raised his eyebrows and she nodded to her leather bag.

“Then it sounds like we got all we need, baby,” Rune said. He gave her a hard kiss. “This next bit is tricky but doable. Climb on my back and I’ll take a running launch out the balcony. I’ll shift in midair, so you need to hang on.”

There was stealthy movement in the hall. Several creatures were approaching. She opened up her arms and gestured to Rune impatiently. “You just get us in the air,” she said. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll hang on.”

He gave her that white, wild smile of his, tossed the bags at her and turned his back to her. She slung the bags onto one shoulder and leaped at him, arms around his neck and legs around his waist. As soon as she was firmly riding piggyback, he turned and sprinted for the open balcony doors.

She had seen the power in his running launch, felt the power in his launch from both sea and land. This was something altogether different. This had the roar of a Harrier jet as it shot off the short deck of an aircraft carrier ship. Each of his long, powerful strides shoved them off the Earth, faster and faster, until he took a springboard jump off the wrought-iron balcony and leaped up into the air with his arms outstretched.

It was one of the most exhilarating things she had ever experienced, and possibly one of the most tragic, for even as he shimmered into the shapeshift, and she felt the flow of his body as he expanded underneath her, a massive nylon net unfurled over them, shot with devastating precision from the rooftop of the hotel. They tangled in it and fell.

Even as they plummeted several stories, Rune was unbelievably fast. They turned as they fell and he twisted in midair, keeping his body between hers and the pavement, but the restricting net made his landing horribly awkward. They slammed into the ground with such force they shattered the concrete underneath them. She could hear the massive bones in Rune’s front right leg and shoulder snap. The breath left him hard as he collapsed in an uncontrolled sprawl. Otherwise he remained silent. She was the one who screamed with rage and anguish at his suffering.

Her talons sprang out. The nylon net shredded like paper. Within seconds she had it ripped away and she leaped to her feet, standing protectively over Rune. But the net had accomplished what it had been intended to do; it had grounded them. With a muffled groan, Rune shapeshifted back into a man and lay curled on his side around his shattered arm.

She backed in a circle, looking around the open space. They had landed on a sidewalk beside the hotel’s large, wellkept grounds. There wasn’t any traffic on the nearby bordering street, and there were no passing pedestrians.

There were, however, plenty of creatures dotting the area around them. Julian had set the trap well. Four more trolls, and as many as fifty ghouls, with perhaps twice as many Vampyres, all standing silent, either watching to see what she would do or waiting for orders.

Even if she agreed to go with them, Rune would never accept it. Injured as he was, he would rise to his feet and fight to the death before he would let them get separated.

Her hands fisted. She called out, “You have been my people, and you’re just following orders. I understand that. As of this moment, you can all walk away. No harm, no foul, no damage done. But if you’re going to go, you need to do it right now.”

She was gratified to note that many slipped away in the night. On the ground at her feet, Rune sat and drew a gun. He was hunched over, cradling his arm against his abdomen. He asked hoarsely, “Can you freeze the rest?”

“There’s too many, spread over too large of an area.” She began to whisper the ancient spell that called all her souls together, gathering all her Power into one compressed weapon. I call my future selves to me. I call all my desires, all my fears to me. I call all my past selves to me. I call my divine self to me . . .