Marked By Magic by Christa Wick
Chapter Twenty-Six
"They're coming,"Esme said, her gaze unfocused as she watched Bucklee and Otter running through the trees, their post at the first checkpoint abandoned so they could help Seth and Lana hold the south side of the mansion. "You must leave me now."
She blinked, the simple reflex erasing the image she shared with Denver of Mathis and Zed as the two wolves raced from the second checkpoint to join Navarro and Tavi on the building's west side.
"We sealed Quentin's secret entrances. He won't sneak up on me from behind and you can't spare anyone to watch me," she said, turning to him. "Most of all, this is not where you belong right now."
Even though he could feel his wolves racing to secure their positions as Quentin and his army of followers arrived, Denver didn't budge. A question escaped his clenched teeth.
"I don't belong at your side?"
She smiled at him, her voice so sweet and reasonable when she spoke again.
"You know what I am to you beyond being your mate, yes?"
He answered with a sharp nod, his gaze finally leaving her.
"Say it."
Her order landed like a karate chop to his throat, further blocking his ability to breathe.
"You are The Nakari," he choked out. "All-Mother to the wolves. At least, that was your destiny before this."
He gestured with a flick of his finger at the stone altar. With the crystals no longer there to feed the golem scraps of the room's ambient magic, its flesh had turned translucent.
Esme shook her head. "It remains my destiny. The All-Mother doesn't let her children sacrifice themselves to protect her. That is not a mother's job."
Fuck!Why did she have to be right—and so stubborn about it!
"Love," he started, his vocal cords strangling the word. "All those years stolen from us…"
Esme didn't need a word or a gesture to cut him off. Her beautiful, implacable gaze froze his tongue.
"We won't get those years back in the ten minutes or an hour it takes Quentin and his followers to slaughter us," she said. "You are a leader, not a door guard."
Left in the hall where it could still receive signals, his radio squawked with a report from Navarro. Except for one team, the Hunters were leaving their vehicles and spreading out into the woods. Fray came on next from where he and his men held the east side of the building, Philia tasked with floating between Fray's team and Denver's with her battle magic and healing powers.
Estimates of the size of Quentin's army followed. Ten to one, Navarro suggested. Spotting more vehicles approaching the first checkpoint, Seth insisted it was twenty to one.
No one had eyes on Quentin yet.
"He's here," Esme said, almost breathless by the time she reached Denver. Pain etching her face as she lifted her arm, Esme caressed his cheek. "So stubborn. And so strong. But are you strong enough to serve me? To follow my command as all clan leaders must?"
He answered with another anguished nod.
"Then go," she said, her lips brushing his. "And waste no one by leaving a guard at my door."
"This isn't how we end," Denver promised with a final, backward glance. "You and me together, decades upon decades from now, we will have survived today, and the clans will be stronger than they have ever been. When we die, we will be older than old and holding one another."
* * *
Alone,Esme returned to the altar and pulled back the sheet that covered Abby. The faint light inside the creature that was visible at Esme's original arrival to the estate still pulsed, but Esme could see a second light now, could see it pulsing through the flesh of the baby growing inside Abby, the small body curled around itself as if it sensed the danger surrounding it.
Moving further up the torso, she pushed against the gelatinous flesh. The ever-present scream she had heard since entering the room that very first time roared louder. This time, the distinct sensation of someone jamming a thumb into the axillary region of her own body accompanied the scream.
Softly, she hummed a healing chant until the worst of the pain faded.
"I am sorry, sister," she said, staring at the two beryl crystals that served as eyes. Resting one arm on the altar, she stroked along the top of Abby's head. Sometimes it worked to calm the anguish that had built over decades.
Sensing no relief, she pulled back and looked at the torso once more.
The little light continued to pulse steadily. When the time came, Esme knew she would be able to scoop the baby out with her hands.
She just didn't know if she or the baby would survive.
