Scorched by Darkness: Eternal Mates Series Book 18 Page 28

  The mage’s smile spread into a grin, his crimson eyes sparkling with satisfaction as he watched the blood sliding down her thigh and then met her gaze. Behind him, five copies of himself with milky-blue eyes appeared.

  His fingers flexed around his dagger as his eyes narrowed on her, his actions echoed by his clones.

  “This was not the way I had planned it, but perhaps it will be just as satisfying to kill you myself.”

  He lunged at her.

  Chapter 30

  Hartt roared as pain erupted in his side, hurled his free hand out and sent all the clones around him flying. His gaze scoured the bleak land, his heart racing. Mackenzie. Where was she? He grunted as fire burned through him, had sweat breaking out on his brow as he tried to find her.

  A black snarl tore from him when he spotted her.

  Spotted the mage.

  Darkness poured through Hartt as he teleported, was swift to consume him as he leaped out of the other side of it. He swept his sword upwards, another growl pealing from his lips as it slammed into the dagger the male had aimed at Mackenzie and knocked it flying. He pivoted on his heel and brought his sword down, but rather than cutting through the black-haired mage, his blade sliced across the chest of a clone.

  He cursed in the elf tongue and twisted his blade, beheaded the wretch and snarled as he looked for the mage.

  More clones came at him, closing in to obscure his view. He fought to hold back the darkness as he battled them, awareness of Mackenzie’s pain driving him towards the abyss as a black need to protect her flooded him. He clung to that awareness, to the fact she was bleeding and needed him to keep his head. If he lost himself to the darkness, he would leave her behind, would be engulfed by a need to fight and wouldn’t be able to stop himself from cutting through the enemy.

  He swept around in a fast arc and cut straight through the waist of the final clone, breathed hard as he stilled and searched for more. No. Mackenzie needed him. He reined in the need to hunt for another foe to kill, focused not on the battlefield but on his mate instead.

  She sagged to the snowy ground, her rasping breaths and the fear he could feel in her cutting at him.

  “Mackenzie.” He dropped to his knees before her, eyes darting over her, sickness brewing inside him when the wet on her thigh caught the moonlight and taunted him. She was bleeding out, weakening right before his eyes, her strength ravaged by whatever the fire was he could feel running through her. He growled. “Hold on.”

  He didn’t wait for her to respond. He gently pulled her onto her feet and scooped her up into his arms and teleported.

  He landed near Rosalind, so close she shrieked. In a heartbeat, a blade was against his throat, forcing his chin up. He had to still to stop himself from being cut on it. His eyes edged towards Vail where he had appeared beside him.

  Awareness and recognition dawned in his prince’s corrupted black-to-violet eyes.

  Those eyes fell to the precious cargo Hartt held as Mackenzie moaned and shuddered.

  Vail moved his blade away from Hartt’s throat and Rosalind rushed forwards, her blue eyes wide as she ran them over Mackenzie.

  “What happened?” Rosalind glanced at him.

  His heart laboured so fast that he feared it might stop, knew that it would if he lost Mackenzie. There would be no point in going on without her.

  “The mage. He stabbed her with a blade. Obsidian I think.” He couldn’t be sure though, had caught only a glimpse of it before the bastard had fled, forcing Hartt to deal with his clones so he could take care of Mackenzie.

  “Set her down.” Rosalind waved her hand and a thick pile of dark furs appeared on the icy ground.

  Hartt did as she wanted but didn’t move away from Mackenzie, remained kneeling beside her as Rosalind eased down onto hers on the other side of his mate. She closed her eyes and held her hands out over the spot where the blade had pierced his ki’ara and he held his breath as he waited, desperate to hear her verdict.

  It seemed like an eternity before Rosalind finally opened her eyes and looked at him, silver stars dancing among the blue of her irises.

  “I can reverse this spell.”

  “Thank the gods,” he muttered, and sagged as all the tension flooded from him. He leaned over Mackenzie, smoothed her red hair from her damp forehead and pressed a kiss to it. “Rest easy, my love. Rosalind will take care of you.”

  Mackenzie weakly lifted her hand and clutched his wrist, stopping him from moving as her fiery golden eyes sought his. “No. I can come. I can fight.”

  Hartt shook his head. He wouldn’t hear of it.

  He gently removed her hand from his and looked at Rosalind and then Vail. “Keep her here, no matter what.”

  Vail nodded and moved to stand next to her, the grim look in his eyes telling Hartt he was going to take the duty of protecting Hartt’s mate seriously. Very seriously apparently. Vail growled and bared fangs at Syn as she dared to rush to Mackenzie’s side, shoved his palm to her chest and held her back.

  “That’s my friend you—” she cut herself off as her amber eyes fell to Mackenzie. “Tell me you’re going to be all right, Mac’n’Cheese.”

  Mackenzie smiled tightly. “Hate that nickname.”

  “She’s going to be all right.” Syn cast Hartt a look that said she wasn’t really convinced of that. “Who did this?”

  Frey appeared a short distance behind Syn, a flicker of relief lighting his blue eyes as they landed on her.

  “The mage. I lost sight of him.” Hartt checked his sword and then tightened his fingers around the grip. “I’m going to hunt him down.”

  “Not alone, you’re not.” Syn readied her own blade. “I’m coming with you. Mac would never forgive me if I let you get yourself killed.”

  Frey gave Syn’s back a look that made it clear Syn wouldn’t be the only one coming with Hartt to hunt the mage. The big demon king had clearly decided he wanted Syn as his partner in this fight, and Hartt had to wonder…

  Did he only want her as his partner in this battle or was that desire going to still be there once the fight was done?

  Syn grabbed Hartt from behind and beat her black wings, hauled him higher and higher into the air. He grimaced as the ground dropped away below him, as the clones became tiny specks. Only a hundred feet from Rosalind and Vail, Grave and Isla were fighting alongside Night, working with impressive coordination to cut down a group of clones.

  He growled as he realised those clones were battling to protect someone who looked just like them.

  The black-haired mage wasn’t the only one who had come onto the battlefield, leaving the safety of the stronghold behind.

  As Hartt scoured the snowfield below him, he spotted more mages, counted close to a dozen of them in total, each of them leading at least a dozen clones towards his side. He sent a prayer to his gods that the vampires, Isla and Vail could handle them while he, Syn and Frey worked to take down the male he knew without a doubt was their leader.

  A terrible bellow rent the night air, cutting above the din of battle, and Hartt looked back in time to see Isla breaking a kiss with the mage who had been controlling the clones close to her team. The male wobbled and slumped, fell in a heap on the ground as Isla released him. The clones immediately dropped too, disappeared like smoke before they hit the snow.

  One down, only ten or so more to go.

  Cold light shimmered around Isla and she suddenly disappeared.

  “Isla!” Grave yelled and the second she appeared close to another mage, this one a blond male just beneath Hartt, the vampire sprinted to reach her, Night hot on his heels.

  Isla was incredible as she swept through the clones, as she cut them down with her sword, carving a path to the mage. Syn banked left and Hartt realised she was looking over her shoulder as Frey broke away from them, as his roar shook the air and he pinned his leathery wings back, shooting towards Isla as two clones managed to grab hold of her.

  The phantom disappeared, melting into nothing
only to reappear a short distance from the two copies, just as Frey barrelled into them. He grabbed one by their face and slammed him so hard into the frozen ground that his head exploded. He slashed at the other with his wings, keeping him back.

  Isla kept sweeping forwards, her feet hovering above the ground as she set her sights on the mage.

  The male backpedalled, glancing around to his left and right. Clones formed there and moved to block Isla. Frey cut them down, and Grave joined him, the two of them working in tandem to clear a route for the vampire’s mate.

  Syn cursed and rolled right, and Hartt’s eyes widened as a blast of crimson light shot past him, close enough that he felt the heat of it. He looked at his boots and unleashed an oath of his own as the spell did a U-turn and came after them. The demoness flew harder, but he was slowing her down, and the spell was gaining.

  Hartt stared at the ground far below them and focused, willing a teleport. Silvery light chased over him and he braced himself, somehow managed to hit the ground running.

  And brought Syn with him.

  “What the—” She dropped him and beat her wings, twisted and turned, and looked back at where they had been. “Oh, crap.”

  He looked there too.

  A bright ball of crimson fire was shooting straight towards them.

  Hartt focused to teleport, cried out as the spell hit the ground before he could muster another one and he tumbled through the air, the world spinning around him. He couldn’t tell which way was up as it all blurred together, didn’t have a chance to brace himself either. He slammed into the packed snow and rolled across it, arms and legs flailing, every bone in his body aching as he crashed into the thick trunk of a pine at the edge of the forest that hugged the base of the mountains.

  He lay face down in the thin snow, his rapid breaths shifting it in front of his hazy eyes as he battled to shut down the pain ricocheting through him and tame the darkness that tried to steal control again. This time, he could give in to it, but he wouldn’t. The abyss beckoned if he did. He wasn’t strong enough to stop it from devouring him. He had to maintain control, or he would lose it forever.

  Would become not just tainted, but lost.

  When he felt able to move, he slowly pushed himself up off the frigid ground and onto his knees. He grunted and gripped his side as pain speared him, thanked the gods for his armour as he felt the bruise there that would have been a hole in him if it hadn’t stopped the branch from penetrating him. His lungs ached as he breathed and he gave himself a moment to recover as he peered into the moonlit darkness.

  Distant specks moved like shadows across the blanket of white.

  The damned spell had tossed him close to a mile from where he had been.

  He started back towards the others, walking at first but slowly building into a run. The desire to teleport was strong, but his will was stronger. He focused on sprinting, covering the distance in a way that wouldn’t drain him. He needed the rest of his strength for the fight ahead.

  His eyes darted over the fight and he almost smiled as he saw that Isla had taken down another three mages with the help of Grave and Night, and Frey stood over the body of a fourth as Syn gutted a fifth. With each death, the clones disappeared, improving the odds for his side.

  The remaining mages were beginning to look tired, used spells to attack his allies rather than clones of themselves. They were weakening.

  Hartt did smile now.

  They could win this.

  His eyes darted to his left, towards the stronghold, as something moved there. He changed course when he saw what it was.

  The black-haired mage.

  The other witches were falling back to him, moving within a ring of his clones. There had to be at least twenty of them, all of them armed with silver blades that reflected the moonlight. Hartt could easily handle that many.

  The mage’s head swivelled towards him and Hartt could feel his gaze on him, growled as he redoubled his effort, sprinting faster, his boots chewing up the snow.

  His eyes widened as the male seized another mage by the back of his neck and shock rippled across the male’s face, his mouth opening on a silent scream. The black-haired mage tugged the blade free of his heart, grinned as he kept his eyes locked with Hartt’s and kept hold of the dead male, his arm lowering with him as he sank to the ground.

  The sensation of power coming from the mage’s direction grew stronger, more than doubling, and Hartt couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The mage had sacrificed one of his own side to give himself a boost in power.

  At once, twelve new clones appeared around him. They closed in on the other mages rather than moving to reinforce the defensive perimeter the black-haired male had built around him. The remaining three mages tried to make a break for it, but only one of them managed to disappear before the clones were on them, had seized them and were dragging them towards their leader.

  A sense of dread built inside Hartt as he raced towards the mage, as the male cut down another of his side, growing stronger still. Another dozen clones appeared, joined up with some of the others to rush towards Isla and the vampires as they closed the distance between them and the mage, coming at him from the other side to Hartt.

  The black-haired male lunged for the final mage as his clones dragged him towards him, seized hold of him but struggled to keep his grip on the mage as fire burst from the brunet’s hands and engulfed his arms. The clones howled in pain as the flames licked at them, as they caught on their black robes and spread, and the mage bellowed with them, releasing the brunet.

  That male made a run for it just as Hartt teleported, aiming for the other side of the ring of clones. Hartt landed beyond them, skidded on the icy ground and twisted as he barrelled towards the wall of milky-eyed copies who turned as one to glare at him. He called his katana to him and slammed the tip of it into the ground as it appeared in his hand, stopping himself from hitting them. They launched at him on a vicious collective hiss.

  That hiss ended in a wave of cries as something cut through the air behind him, and the scent of blood grew heavy in the air. Hartt flinched and grimaced as it rained down on him, splattering the white ground, making it even slicker.

  “That counts as my kill,” Syn hollered. “I totally stabbed him first.”

  Frey’s only response was a grunt as he tossed a dead clone at the wall surrounding Hartt. It disappeared before it could hit the copies who moved as one to keep the wall around their master strong, closing the gap Syn and Frey had created.

  The demon king swept downwards, aiming for the mage.

  Hit something around thirty feet above Hartt and bounced off it. A wave of blue symbols swept around the air, forming the shape of a dome before they disappeared. He looked at the mage.

  The male closed his hand around the brunet witch’s throat and stabbed him straight in the chest, his eyes never leaving Hartt’s. The power that emanated from him grew stronger still.

  Hartt looked around him as the mage tossed the dead male aside, deeply aware that he was now inside a barrier, alone with a hell of a lot of clones and a very powerful witch. That wasn’t good. He had two options—find a way out or fight.

  The wall of clones stared at him, strange blue eyes watching him closely, tracking his every move. If he tried to go through them, he might be able to take a few down, but there was a high chance they would capture him.

  When the mage began to close in on him and no easy exit presented itself, Hartt focused to teleport.

  Nothing happened.

  He cursed magic, starting to hate it with a passion as he braced his feet shoulder-width apart and stared the mage down. He flung his hand out to his left, testing a theory. The clone he sent flying hit the barrier and ricocheted off it, landing with a grunt on the ground within the sphere of the spell.

  No escape.

  Hartt flexed his fingers around the grip of his katana.

  No surrender either.

  He sent a mental command to his clothing, shirk
ing his protective gear, leaving him in only his black armour. Cold instantly invaded his tired muscles, but it was better than limiting his range of movement with the heavy clothing. He had the feeling he was going to need every ounce of his speed to survive this.

  The black-haired male straightened, lifting his chin as he stared Hartt down. Blue light glowed from his palm, illuminating the harsh planes of his face and darkening his crimson eyes.

  Hartt kept his focus on the male, ignoring the shouts coming from the outside of the dome as Isla, the vampires and the demons worked to take down the clones and reach him. They wouldn’t be able to breach the barrier if they made it past the clones. Rosalind was the only one who could possibly dispel it. He wanted to look at his allies to silently tell them to go for the witch, but didn’t dare take his eyes off the mage.

  Grave must have hollered something abusive in the mage’s direction because the male turned cold red eyes on something off to Hartt’s left.

  The mage’s regal English accent was clipped as he growled, “I will kill you next. All in good time, vampire.”

  “I should have killed you when I had the chance,” Hartt snarled and brought his katana up in front of him, gripped the long hilt in both hands and readied himself.

  The mage shifted his focus back to him. “Kill me? Hmph. I recall neither you, nor that rabid dog you keep as a pet, being able to do such a thing when you had the chance. I do however recollect you destroying a plan that had been in motion for decades, one I was about to finally be paid a handsome fee for completing.”

  His crimson eyes narrowed on Hartt and shone around his pupils, as bright as firelight.

  “Twenty years of putting up with that snivelling bitch. The promised access to that which her precious organisation protects stolen from me by little more than a mangey cat shifter and two tainted wretches,” the male spat.

  Hartt frowned at him. “The huntress hadn’t promised you coin?”

  “Coin?” the mage scoffed. “I have all the coin I could ever need. What I needed was access to Aryanna.”

  Was that another huntress? Or something else?