THE SILVER-AND-BLACK WOLF had backed against the cliff so tightly he was hunched over on himself. He was baring his teeth, and his hackles were raised, but the stink of fear that painted the air told Nasil the wolf knew he was no match for the snakes and spiders who surrounded him.
They waited impatiently for Nasil to make the slightest twitch of his hand that would tell them to attack. Even Marduc, flapping overhead hard enough to raise a wind, was growing frustrated. “Why do you hesitate, Nasil? Destroy the wolf so my people can be fed.”
“No.” He felt her slap of power as she punished him for refusing, but it bounced off. Ever since they’d had sex, he’d been feeling his power grow. He felt like himself again for the first time in a year, and far more clear-headed. “I would talk to him first. Alone.”
“You overstep yourself, my mate.” Marduc’s words were a hiss that should have terrified him. But it didn’t. “I am hungry and he has power. The eggs must have his magic, and game is growing scarce nearby.”
He looked at the blurry form above him and spoke into her mind. This is the wolf who was selling secrets to Sargon about the positions of the packs. I believe he can be of use. We can use him to find out what alphas are in the camp below. If we take them out, one at a time, then—
Then the rest of the lives there would be mine to terrify and feed on. Her voice sounded pleased. But the alphas are strong and much of my power is going to feed the eggs until the serpent moon comes. I have little energy to battle them. It’s why I plan to send the spiders and snakes before me—to wear them down.
The Serpent Moon? But that was when Marduc was supposed to be born. What exactly was this Serpent Moon?
She heard his thoughts and laughed, the sharp sound of glass slivers crunching underfoot. You would call it a “meteor shower” in today’s language. They are strange and awful meteors that first arrived when I was born, and the world was new. They return every thousand years. Four times I have missed the call since I was of a maturity to bear young. I will not miss this time.
Nasil nodded. A tiny voice screamed in the back of his head, but the thrum of power was too strong. He turned to face the snarling wolf. “Derek Thompson. We’ve met before. Do you remember me?”
“Yes.” The word was guttural as the wolf lowered his front haunches while flicking his eyes from the hissing snakes to multieyed spiders. “You were Sargon’s lackey.”
Nasil folded his arms over his chest and smiled darkly. “Hardly a lackey. His confidante, his right hand, but never a lackey. And now I lead, and you will follow my commands. Or,” he said calmly, sweeping his hand to take in the enthralled Sazi around him, “I will snap my fingers and you’ll die a slow and very painful death.”
The wolf’s eyes flickered as he stared skeptically at him. “I’ve battled worse odds . . . and won.”
A laugh rolled out of Nasil’s chest. He could taste the lie on the air. “You’re bluffing. But even if you weren’t, you haven’t yet learned the meaning of fear. Marduc?”
She landed hard on the ground, causing a tremor that made rocks tumble from above. The wolf’s ears flattened against his head. One of the lesser snakes, probably not more than a hundred and fifty pounds, was caught under Marduc’s weight and hissed in abject fear before she closed her talons and sliced him into bloody ribbons. Derek watched the slaughter, though he couldn’t see the cause, until the snake’s head dropped one last time and the mouth opened in death. Then her power dropped him to his belly.
“Crawl before me, wolf, or I will invade your mind and drive you mad before I feast on you.” Marduc’s voice was low and sultry and sweet. Derek turned his eyes up to find the source of the sound instinctively. She took the opportunity to lean her head close to him. Nasil could feel her feathers nick his face as she passed and knew that even thick wolf fur wouldn’t save Derek’s skin from cuts.
But Marduc did more than scrape him. A flash of red sprayed into the air and the wolf yelped. It took Nasil a moment to realize she’d taken a nip from his ear. The tip was gone as though it had never been there and the scent of his panic filled the air. “What do you want from me?” Derek’s voice quavered, just as it had when Sargon went to visit him. He was weak and no fit leader. But that worked well for their purposes.
“There is a knife in a cave near here. I want you to bring it back to us.”
Derek tilted his head, but didn’t move from where he was pressed against the ground, tail between his legs. “That’s all?”
Nasil shook his head. “Not quite. There have been wolves here recently. I found their scent on the brush. If they’ve taken the knife, you’ll follow them and take it away. If you find the knife, you’ll still follow them. Make sure you find and kill the female wolf you smell after you have the knife. Her name is Holly Sanchez.”
The female healer had to die. She could see him, so she most likely could see Marduc. That could ruin their plans. Nasil doubted the girl would be any match for Thompson.
“What does the knife look like?” Derek let out a hiss that would make a snake proud as another small piece of his ear disappeared. Marduc apparently had a foot on him, because he didn’t move away from the pain.
“It’s double-edged and made of obsidian, with a bone handle studded with turquoise.”
A huff of air left the wolf as the invisible weight lifted from him. Nasil felt the stab of Marduc’s feathers against his arm and the flick of her tongue across his chin.
“You have seen the Blade of Tolkrit? It’s nearby?” she hissed.
He nodded. “It’s what I used to—” An odd sensation twisted his stomach. He didn’t like it, whatever it was. He shook his head. “Kill the human before I came to you.” Hadn’t the human had a name? Another shake of his head caused tiny cuts across his face.
Yes. Send the wolf. It’s better if we don’t touch it until the last moment. If it drains him, so much the better. I can feed from the knife when the time comes. That was why it was created—so I will have energy to sustain the young after I bury myself in my nest.
It made sense . . . like stocking a larder for the cold winter months.
“Remember, wolf,” she said with a swing of her head. “Fail me in this and I will let my spiders feast. They prefer to eat you alive.”
The wolf’s eyes flicked to the snapping mandibles of the spiders. He nodded hastily. “I’ll get your knife and remove the woman. And then my debt will be paid, right? I’ll be free?”
Nasil stopped just short of laughing. Once they had the knife, the attacks on the Sazi could begin in truth. “You have twenty-four hours. If you bring back the knife, along with proof you’ve killed the girl, you’ll owe no further debt to the snakes.”
But would he be free? Nasil let the memories of old battles fill his mind. He reveled again in the screams of the dying that had sped his heart, and could still nearly taste the blood and terror of the conquered, who shrank and groveled when he passed. How long had it been since he’d been drunk on the taste of fear?
I think not. Nobody will ever be free again.