Master of Smoke

of Smoke.”
    “Whose mind? Smoke’s?”
    “No, Warlock’s. Help me control him before he hurts himself.” Smoke convulsed again as if someone was hitting him with a Taser powered by a high-tension line.
    “I’ll take care of him. You keep your distance before he turns you into pate.” Tristan pounced on the werecat and straddled his chest, grabbing for the creature’s thick wrists. He damned near got dumped on his head when David arched like a bow.
    “Get his left arm. I’ll get his right,” the werewolf girl snapped, pinning the cat’s right hand to the ground.
    “That’s right,” Belle said. “Now hold him still while I go in after them.”
    A furry thigh snapped up, hitting Tristan’s armored back so hard he almost bit his tongue. He wrestled the cat back down again and gritted, “What do you mean, you’re going after them?”
    Belle trapped Smoke’s thrashing head between her palms. “They can’t break the spell that’s bound Smoke’s memories, but I think I can.”
    “You’ll get yourself fried,” Tristan snarled. “Call Morgana. This kind of shit is her job.”
    Belle had thrown her visor up, and now her gaze met his over Smoke’s head, fierce and determined. “There’s no time, Tristan! And I’ve already got a spell connection to him, so it’s me or he’s dead.”
    “But ...”
    “Let me go with you,” interrupted the werewolf girl. “I can help you reach him.”
    “How the hell do you think you can do that?” Tristan demanded, heartily fed up with both the suicidal little bitches.
    “He loves me.” Eva reached for Belle’s hand, engulfing it in her clawed paw.
    “But magic doesn’t work on werewolves!” Tristan protested.
    “A communication spell is very low energy compared to an attack,” Belle told him tightly. “Besides, Queen Diana says the Direkind have something similar to a Truebond, so we should be able to make a psychic link work.”
    “What if it doesn’t?”
    “Then we’re probably fucked.” She and the werewolf stared at each other with a desperate intensity.
    And nothing happened.
    “I can’t ...” the girl began.
    “Shhh!” Belle snapped. “I’ve almost got it.” She whispered something in French Tristan didn’t catch. The werewolf toppled over.
    David’s clawed hand, suddenly freed, slapped Tristan hard in the helm. Before the knight could do more than swear, Belle fell backward, her body arching over her bent knees.
    “Dammit, Belle, you’re not a combat witch!” Tristan spat at her unconscious form. “That damned werewolf is going to kill you.”

    Belle and Eva floated along the mental trail David and Cat had left on their way to the captive elemental. The connection between the two women was more fragile than the Maja would have liked, but there wasn’t a hell of a lot she could do about it, except hold on.
    Until they arrived in a flash of magic deep in Warlock’s mind.
    The first thing they heard was Cat’s howl of pain as the sorcerer launched a flaming psychic attack against him and David. Luckily, Warlock was so totally focused on his victims, he didn’t even notice the women’s arrival.
    “David,” Eva whispered.
    “Shush!” Belle snapped. “We’ve got to free Smoke. Without him to draw on, Warlock will have a lot less power to use.”
    Concentrating hard, she slid like a ghost toward the spell cage. The elemental reminded her of a gaunt sea lion, its glow dim as it swam in frantic circles, watching Warlock rip into David and Cat. He’d pounded the two so hard, they’d fractured into psychic chunks.
    Fight him, the elemental groaned. You have the power!
    “But they don’t know how to use it,” Belle said in a mental whisper.
    Smoke jerked toward her as she drifted carefully to his cage. “Belle!” Then joy flashed in his eyes as he spotted the werewolf girl. “Eva, you came! I never thought you’d come for me ...”
    She frowned. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re part of him, and you’re in pain.”
    “Do you know how I can get this thing open?” Belle interrupted.
    Smoke blinked great, luminous eyes. “Yes, there’s a weakness. I’ve been working on it for days now. Here.” The creature nosed downward toward the corner of the psychic lattice, where some of the glow had dimmed fractionally. Examining the spot, Belle realized he had indeed managed to weaken the glowing bars. “I just don’t have the strength to finish it.”
    “Luckily, Warlock’s concentrating so hard on the rest of you,