Kate Daniels 03 - Magic Strikes

predatory glee.
    Mart no longer needed his human skin.
    He clamped me to him and I saw Sophia on the balcony, clutching at the Wolf Diamond. We streaked to her and stopped at her eye level.
    “Gift me the jewel,” Cesare ordered and held out his hand. The curse of the stone had been weighed against the Fools, and the Fools had won. Mart would rather risk the anger of the Wolf Diamond than the shapeshifters’ down below.
    Sophia swallowed.
    “Don’t,” I said.
    Below us the Arena roared with indignant screams.
    “Gift me the jewel, woman.” The tattooed snakes rose from Cesare’s skin and hissed.
    Sophia’s long, pale fingers let go. The golden tear of the Wolf Diamond fell and landed in Cesare’s huge palm. “It’s yours,” she said.
    You moron.
    The rakshasas flew up. The skylight blocked us. Mart’s hand flashed and the heavy glass shattered into a glittering cascade of shards. We pushed through it and then we were flying above the city.
     
     
    I LAY IN A GOLDEN CAGE IN A PUDDLE OF MY blood. It soaked my hair, my cheek, my clothes. I breathed it in, its scent and magic cloaking me. I could feel the blood around me the way I felt my limbs or my fingers. It had left my body but we remained connected. I had always sensed magic in my blood, but I’d never felt it, not like this.
    Inside my stomach, tiny flecks of power smoldered, the remnants of Roland’s sword. My body was absorbing them slowly, one by one. His blood mixed with my own, releasing its power, and anchored me to life and pain. I didn’t move, conserving what little strength and magic I had left. I chanted, barely moving my lips, trying to push my body into regeneration. It didn’t obey very well, but I kept trying. I wouldn’t give up and just die.
    At least the pain had dimmed enough for my eyes to stop watering.
    High above me a golden ceiling stretched, shrouded in shadow. Tall walls defined a cavernous chamber, their carved glitter flowing seamlessly into the tiled floor layered with vivid velvet and silk pillows. Nataraja, the People’s head honcho in Atlanta, had tried to furnish his room just like this. But his chamber atop the People’s Casino paled in comparison to this room. All of Nataraja’s wealth wouldn’t have bought a single panel of these golden walls.
    I wondered if he had gotten his interior-decorating ideas from visiting a vimana. The People’s association with rakshasas must have gone pretty far back.
    Just beyond me, the Wolf Diamond shone on a narrow metal pedestal. The two trophies of the rakshasas’ might: me and the gem. Where is your curse now, you dumb rock?
    A steady hum underscored my thoughts. The propellers of the vimana. I had lost consciousness during the flight. When I came to, we had landed on the balcony of the flying palace sitting aground in the lush jungle, and Mart had tossed me into the cage. Now I lay there, neither alive nor dead, suspended three feet above the floor in a cage like some sort of canary.
    Mart sat among the pillows below. He’d traded his cat burglar suit for a turquoise flowing garment that left his shoulders and arms bare. Three women fluttered over him, like brightly colored hummingbirds. One washed his feet. One brushed his hair. One held his drink. Other rakshasas sat along the wall, a respectable distance from him, a motley crew of monstrous and human bodies in jewel-toned cloth. Some came and others went through the arched entrances puncturing the walls.
    Mart stared at me, his blue eyes two merciless gem-stones, pushed the women aside, and strode to the cage. I stopped chanting and just lay there, like a rag doll. I had enough strength left for one lunge. The second he opened that door, I’d break his neck. His finger twitched and Livie came into my view. Her face was a pale smudge next to the amber of Mart’s skin.
    Mart spoke, lilting words interspersed with harsh sounds.
    “He says that if you live, you’ll serve him. If you die, they will eat the meat off your bones.”
    If they ate me, they would become more powerful. I had no idea how I could prevent it. Here’s wishing for a power word of spontaneous combustion . . .
    Mart spoke again, his gaze boring into me.
    “He wants to know if you understand what he said.”
    I had to survive now. He left me no choice.
    “Do you understand?”
    Arrogant asshole. A tiny ripple pulsed through the puddle of my blood. Neither of them noticed it.
    My voice was a raspy whisper. That was all I could manage.