It was looking at Baines as if he were a baby bird. Easy, tasty pickings. Baines was hurt, trapped, and running out of ammunition.
“Oh, this is too good, don’t you think?” Belenos cooed. He rose from his chair and crouched down beside her, showing her a better view of what he’d conjured in the stone. “What you see is what’s happening right now. How do you like my kitty? I made him specially to keep the detective from getting bored.”
“No!” she cried, forgetting herself and trying to rise from the chair.
It rocked forward, forcing Belenos to grab the back to steady it. The lapse of concentration made him lose the image.
“Bring it back! I have to see what happens!”
The desperation, the begging in her voice was a mistake. His mouth curled into a smile. “I bet you think your dog is going to ride to your rescue like a true-blue hero.”
He waited for the doubt, the wounded look as she took in his words, but her gaze remained steady. Lore doesn’t leave his people behind.
He gave a low huff of amusement and waved his hand again, and then she saw Lore, a fireball flying through the air over his head.
“Tsk, bad aim.”
“What is that fire?” Talia asked.
“Why, that’s how sorcerers fight, my duck. Basic wizardry. I’ve been teaching my troop leaders to use more than just guns. It’s hard for the enemy to shoot back when they’re burning to cinders. And werebeasts hate it. Teeth and claws are of no use, so all your hounds and wolves are just fish in a barrel, if you’ll forgive the zoological contradiction. The tunnels will positively stink with burning dog hair.”
Talia could see the hilt of a knife in his belt, but her hands and feet were bound. She wanted so desperately to grab it and slide the blade into his heart, she could feel the texture of the hilt against her fingers.
Belenos stood, checked his watch. “Tick-tock. Time to run. Next time I come back, maybe we’ll check on your friends. Maybe not.”
“For God’s sake, what do you want from me?” Talia let her fury show.
“Still plenty of fight left in you. Good. Next time, I’ll bring some toys. I’m dying to try out some of Omara’s techniques.”
Belenos slid the quartz into his pocket.
“What. Do. You. Want?” she hissed.
He picked up the gag, wrenching it back into her mouth. “Entertainment, my duck. It’s that simple. Le roi s’amuse. You owe it to me after stealing my money and running away. But that’s the last time—I’ve learned how to keep track of my things.”
He patted the pocket where he’d put the scrying ball. “Don’t forget that I’m watching you. There’s no escape from me. Ever.”
He ran a hand down the curve of her cheek, and then planted a kiss on her forehead.
Belenos’s men had one important strategic advantage, Lore decided. They knew the map of the underground warren, where the turnings were, where the dead ends could trap their enemy. What had begun as a rescue mission and sweep of the underground was turning into an all-out battle. Belenos wasn’t the only magic user on deck. His minions had training, too.
Where Lore had four bands of fighters, the sorcerer had dozens of small groups armed with fireballs roaming the tunnels. Lore had expected resistance, but nothing so deadly.
He’d gone to hound form, along with the others in his fighting unit. They were better trackers and faster runners on four feet. Plus, they were harder to kill—and the fireballs were coming thick and fast. Some of the creatures in the Castle had used similar ammunition, and Lore knew from experience how deadly it could be. There was a score down his back where one had skimmed over him. If he’d been on two legs, he’d be toasted. As it was, every step pulled and twinged.
It made him twice as determined to secure the area so he could search for the captives. He’d sent out volunteers to begin looking for Baines and Talia, but the danger was extreme. If only I could go myself. But he was the general of the hounds, and he had to lead.
Lore crouched on his belly and crawled along the base of the tunnel wall. He could smell a mix of human and vampire. He wished he’d brought a troll or two. Or a dragon.
Lore stopped his advance. His hounds had been chasing a larger group of fighters, and they’d entrenched themselves in this passage. Lore was close enough to see what his team was up against now. There was a pile of rubble across the tunnel forming a barricade. The bad guys were behind it, using the rocky debris for cover.
Okay, not imaginative but effective, up to a point.
The king’s lieutenants should have watched more Westerns. Lore backed up, reversing the crouched shuffle until it was safe to turn and trot back to his men. They were waiting in the darkness of a tunnel mouth, nine pairs of glowing red eyes. Lore gave his instructions. Four of the hounds trotted back the way Lore had come, prepared to draw fire. Lore led the rest down an adjoining hall.
Anyone with brains—or a passing knowledge of old action movies—knew enough to sneak up behind the barricade or fort or wagon and get the enemy that way. He just hoped there was a tunnel that looped back to the right spot to launch his attack. Surprise and timing were his best weapons.
The hounds flowed through the tunnels at a fast trot, turning left and then left again. It felt like they had been down there for hours, but he’d lost track of time. Like a pendulum, his mind returned to Talia. Was she hurt? The thought spun through him like a whirling blade. He wanted to break away and go find her, to flee instead of risking both their lives in an insane battle under the streets.
The fight with Mavritte in Joe’s hotel had clarified much in his mind. Vampire or not, Talia was his mate. He knew it by her scent, by her touch, and by the way his heart clung to hers. He’d known it that moment in the parking lot, when she’d taken his hand. His brain hadn’t put it together then, but his soul had known.
It explained why he felt he had always known her, and yet they had only just met. It explained why he would stop at nothing to have her. He wasn’t going to compromise. If he was the type to give up, the hounds would still be rotting in the Castle. Compromise wasn’t who he was.
He was the one who faced a fully loaded sorcerer, because it was his job to stand guard.
Some days it sucked to be Alpha.
Lore stopped, listening to the noise ahead. The other hounds gathered close around him, flanks touching. Voices. The hum of magic.
This fight was about to get interesting. The route he’d chosen had been the right one, leading to an undefended junction about fifty yards behind the barricade. He’d found the launch point for their attack.
But Lore hesitated. Why had they left this point undefended? He used all his senses, but there was nothing to detect. Nothing but the bombardment of fireballs and the frantic yips of the brave hounds he’d left at the other end of the tunnel. They were doing a good job, making enough noise for ten hounds under attack instead of four.
It was a nightmare moment, his instincts telling him to wait while his brain demanded that he move forward. Lore bargained with himself, weighing the risks. Was he underestimating the enemy? Was he giving them too much credit? What hadn’t he anticipated?
Well, he couldn’t stand there all day, while his followers shifted from paw to paw with muffled impatience. In the end, he had to take the chance.
Silently, they glided into the main tunnel, taking position. The hounds spread out, fanning across the width of the passage. From there they would silently pad close to their fireball-throwing assailants, and then show them what hellhounds could do.
It wasn’t until Lore was in formation, in the center of the pack, that he saw the problem.
These new tunnels were wide and high, and just as the walls began to curve into the arch overhead, there was a jog in the brickwork that formed a narrow shelf on both sides. There were snipers sitting up there, wearing drab green vests marked with the crossed-blade symbol of the Hunters. Hunters!
The muzzles of their rifles were pointed straight at the hounds. There wasn’t much that could injure hounds, but ammunition laced with quicksilver would—the metal of Mercury, who ruled the hounds as they guided the souls of the dead to the beyond. Obscure stuff, but the Hunters would know that. They taught that kind of thing to their
