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Up in Smoke - Katie MacAlister [110]

By Root 738 0
wielded, and yet Gabriel didn’t seem to be affected by them at all. The two men moved in and out of the shadows, in an elegant if powerful dance of light and darkness, Baltic’s blade slicing through the air in quick, sharp movements, while Gabriel’s responses with the demon sword seemed slower and more deliberate, but no less deadly.

I watched for an opening where I could make my own attack, but just as Baltic spun around a broken bit of marble, leaping over Gabriel while slashing downward with his sword, a flash of red sprayed upward. Gabriel grunted and dropped into a roll, getting to his feet slowly, his shirt soaked with blood as his left arm hung at an odd angle. For a moment my eyes saw only the bone and tendons exposed by the blow Baltic had made, nearly slicing off Gabriel’s arm, but then a red mist swept over my vision.

“May!” Gabriel yelled. “Get out of here. Find your way out to safety.”

A horrible noised echoed throughout the shadow world, half roar, half battle cry. My body filled with fire, too much fire, bursting from me in an explosion of anger, fury, and retribution, and I realized with abstracted interest that it was me making all that noise. My body changed, lengthened, sinews and muscles increasing as the fine silver scales swept up from my limbs. I could taste Gabriel’s blood, hear his labored breathing as he continued to fend off Baltic’s increasing attacks, slowly trying to lead him away from me, fighting to the end to save me when it was himself he should be saving.

“May, you must leave!” Gabriel yelled again. “If you shift completely, I don’t know that you can come back!”

No one harmed my mate and lived. That was the thought that consumed me as I lashed out at Baltic, striking him with bloodred claws and a razor-sharp whip of a tail, every atom of my being focused on the destruction of the dragon who hurt my mate.

The ground itself burst into flames as Baltic screamed in pain, his body shifting instantly into that of a dragon . . . but it was white, not black.

His eyes were the same, dark and menacing, filled with knowledge that went beyond that of even the oldest of dragons, and they held me in their grasp for a split second before his body twisted and I was sent flying, slamming backwards into a half-collapsed archway.

The blow left me dazed, watching with unfocused eyes as Gabriel’s form shimmered for a second, then shifted into that of a powerful form that glittered as bright as his eyes. The dragons still held swords, one of Gabriel’s arms limp and bloodied, but the wordless roar that was ripped from his throat promised more than retribution.

He drove the demon’s sword deep into the chest of the white dragon, causing Baltic to shift back into human form. He staggered backwards a few steps, both hands on the hilt of the demon’s sword, a look of amazement on his face. “A shadow sword?”

Gabriel looked startled for an instant as well, but that expression vanished when he returned to his human form. He snatched up the dagger I’d dropped when I transformed, stalking toward Baltic, his head down, one side of his body held higher than the other, his eyes burning with mercurial fire. “She . . . is . . . mine,” he growled, and Baltic, staggering slightly, shook his head as if in disbelief.

“How can you know? It cannot be, and yet, this shadow blade is real. This is not over.”

The roar that followed shook the shadow world. “She is mine!”

Baltic said nothing in response to that, just backed into the shadows and disappeared.

Gabriel stood for a moment, panting with the effort that I knew it took him merely to keep conscious, before turning toward me.

“Little bird,” he said, and dropped to his knees.

I crawled over to him, noting with the same abstracted interest that my hands were no longer silver, but the normal freckled beige I expected.

“He’ll be back,” Gabriel said, gasping for air as I peeled back his shirt. “We have to get out of here.”

He held his left wrist with his right hand, pulling it close to his body to keep the limb from dropping off altogether. I gritted my teeth against

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