Deborah Cooke - 03 Kiss of Fate by Deborah Cooke

Author:Deborah Cooke
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-08-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Magnus seethed.

He was trapped on the spire of wrought iron, his own body betraying him with its bones and muscles and resistance.

He struggled in both forms, to no avail. His position didn’t allow him any way to use his arms or legs to free himself and he doubted that was a coincidence. Erik, he admitted grudgingly, had struck well. The spire had run Magnus through only because of his own missing scale.

That was one weakness the Elixir hadn’t yet managed to repair. The weakness had been lessened by the Elixir but was still there.

He breathed fire at the iron, hoping to break the spire so his weight would make him fall to the ground. The old steel was strong and didn’t heat quickly. Magnus knew it would take too long to free himself that way. The ground was already dark with his blood. Could he actually die? Magnus had believed not, but the situation gave him doubt. In the past, he’d drunk deeply of the Elixir when he’d sustained a serious wound. What if he couldn’t get to the Elixir? What if his situation ensured that he never got the restorative sip that he needed? He struggled with new desperation at that possibility and only managed to tear the wound wider.

“I’ll bet that hurts,” Jorge murmured in oldspeak. Magnus looked around wildly and found the most promising of his assistants staring up at him from the ground. Jorge was in human form, the wind lifting the fair blond of his hair. His gaze was steady and as cold as ice, his arms folded across his chest.

“Help me!” Magnus cried aloud. Jorge smiled and didn’t move.

“Why should I?” Magnus glared at the younger Slayer. He’d always appreciated that Jorge was a good negotiator but didn’t like the view from the other side of the transaction as much. Jorge held all the proverbial cards, and Magnus wouldn’t have to guess twice at what the younger Slayer wanted in exchange for his aid.

“It might kill you,” he advised, knowing that Jorge wouldn’t heed the warning any more than the others ever did. Jorge’s smile broadened.

“I’ll take my chances.” No surprise there. Magnus found himself smiling at the perfection of the solution. If Jorge died in drinking the Elixir, then Magnus would be rid of Jorge’s troublesome ambition. If he survived that sip, Magnus would have a faithful ally. Jorge’s alliance would be guaranteed, because he would need regular access to the Elixir, which Magnus controlled. One sip was never enough. One sip was simply the first sip. Sooner or later, the survivors all realized that one sip made them beholden to Magnus forever. Magnus didn’t see any reason to advertise that particular slice of reality.

“Hurry, then,” Magnus advised.

“Our task is yet unfinished.” Jorge’s eyes flashed; then he changed shape with lightning speed.

He broke the iron spire from its base with a single swing of his tail.

He snatched up the length of it that skewered Magnus and breathed dragonfire to heat the metal. Magnus winced at the heat of the iron and the fire, but knew it wouldn’t kill him.

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