Dead Beat(82)

I rose and lifted my shield at once, in time to intercept the deadly flash of Grevane's whirling chain.
"Fool," he snarled. "You should have joined me when you had the chance." His eyes flicked up and glittered. I followed the line of his gaze. The vortex wasn't more than ten feet from the ground.
"You can't draw it in if I'm standing right here," I shouted back, retreating and circling to get into the circle of picnic tables. When I did, that horrible, sickly sense of cold faded. This near, the vortex wasn't drawing the life off of me. It was the eye of the metaphysical hurricane. "One distraction and the backlash will kill you. It's over."
"It is not over!" he howled, and the chain whipped out again, striking my shield. "It is mine! My birthright! I was his favored child!"
I barely heard a footstep behind me, and whirled in time to lift my shield against another zombie with a spear. The weapon shattered against my upraised shield, but even as it did, I felt a burning impact as Grevane's chain wrapped around my wounded leg and jerked hard. My balance went out from under me, and I fell to the ground.
Grevane's zombie piled onto my back and started biting me. I felt hot, horrible pain on my trapezius muscles left of my neck, even through my cloak and spellworked duster. The zombie let out a vicious cry and let go, then went for the unprotected nape of my neck. I struggled to throw it off of me, to get away, but my battered body was weakened and it was incredibly strong.
"Die!" Grevane screamed, wild laughter in his unsteady voice. "Die, die, die-"
His howls broke off into a single quiet, choking noise, and the zombie on my back abruptly froze.
I struggled out from under it in time to see Grevane standing a few feet away, the chain discarded upon the ground, his hand held to his neck. Blood, black in the night, sprayed from between his fingers. His expression became enraged and he turned toward me, extending a hand to the zombie near me. The zombie turned, once more with purpose.
But then Grevane's expression became puzzled. His eyes rolled back in his head, and I saw the long, straight, smooth cut that had opened his neck from one side to the other, cutting all the way to his spine.
Ramirez stepped into my line of vision, his silver sword in hand and coated with blood. In his other hand he held his pistol. Without hesitation or hurry, he raised the gun and aimed at Grevane's head from five feet away.
Then he executed the stunned necromancer.
The body went loose, fell, and lay there in the grass and rain, one leg twitching.
Around us, the zombies had suddenly lost their vibrant animation, and most of them simply stood passively still, staring at nothing. Tyrannosaur Sue couldn't have cared less, and carried on with her killing spree.
Ramirez came to me and helped me to my feet. "Sorry it took me so long. I had to dodge some bad guys."
"You got here," I said, panting.
He nodded once, grimacing. "Couldn't shoot with you that close, in this light. Had to do it the old-fashioned way. You were one hell of a good distraction, though."
"You did fine," I said. I could feel hot wetness trickling down my back. "Thank God he was insane."
"How's that?" Ramirez asked.
"At the end there. You'd opened his throat but he still thought he could keep going. He tried to hang on to his control of the zombies. It was like he didn't think death counted when it came to him."
"And that's lucky why?"
"He refused to believe he was dying," I said. "No death curse."
Ramirez nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Lucky us."
Then a man's voice said, "I don't know if I'd say that, gentlemen."
I whirled as one of the passive zombies still standing nearby turned, lifting its spear-and then shimmered into the form of Cowl. He lifted one hand from the folds of his dark cloak, and there was no warning surge of gathering power when a wave of vicious force flickered out from his palm and took Ramirez full in the chest.
The young Warden hadn't been ready for it. The magical blow lifted him from his feet and threw him backward like a rag doll. He hit the ground twenty feet later, limbs already flopping limply, and lay there without moving.
"No!" I shouted, and I whirled on Cowl, Hellfire erupting from the runes of my staff. I lifted the staff, snarled, "Forzare!" and sent a lance of vicious energy at the dark figure.
Cowl swiftly crossed his hands at the wrists, forming an X shape with his arms, aligning defensive energy before him-but he hadn't been quite swift enough, or else he hadn't reckoned on how much energy he had to deal with. The lash of raw, scarlet force hammered him hard on the right side of his body, spinning him around and stealing his balance. He stumbled in a corkscrewing motion, and went to the ground.
I drew back the staff for another blow-but then someone pressed against my back, fingers tightened in my hair, and I felt the cold, deadly edge of a knife at my throat.
"Don't move," Kumori's quiet voice said. She was stretched out quite a bit to be pulling my hair and holding the knife, but she'd done it right. There was no way I could try to escape her without her opening an artery. I ground my teeth, my power still ready to lash out again, and debated doing exactly that. Kumori would probably kill me, but it might be worth it to finish Cowl.
I looked up at the writhing vortex. Its tip was now barely above the height of my own head.
Cowl recovered his feet by slow degrees, shaken more than hurt, and anger radiated from him in nearly palpable waves. "Idiot," he said, voice harsh. "You have lost. Can you not see? This game is over."
"Don't do this," I growled. "It isn't worth it. You're going to kill thousands of innocent people."
Cowl's hood tilted up toward the descending vortex, and he marched over the grass until he stood directly beneath it. "Keep him still," he snapped to Kumori.
"Yes, lord," Kumori replied. The steel at my throat never wavered.
Cowl's hand dipped into a pouch at his side, and came out holding Bob the skull. The lights in the skull's eye sockets burned a cold shade of blue and violet.
"There, spirit," Cowl said, holding the skull up to see the vortex. "Do you see it?"
"Of course," said the skull, his voice just as cold and empty. "It is precisely as the master described. Proceed." The eye lights swiveled and came to rest on me. "Ah. The White Council's black sheep. I recommend that you kill him immediately."
"No," Kumori said firmly. "His death curse could destroy the working."
"I know that," the skull replied, his voice contemptuous. "But if he lives when Cowl draws down the power he might disrupt it. Kill him now."
"Silence, spirit," Cowl said in a harsh voice. "You are not the master here. Challenge me again at your own peril."
The skull's eye sockets burned colder yet, but he said nothing.
I swallowed. Bob …  wasn't Bob anymore. I'd known that he was bound and beholden to whoever possessed the skull he resided within, and that their personality would strongly influence his own-but I'd never really imagined what that might be like. Bob wasn't precisely a friend to me but …  I was used to him. In a way he was family, the mouthy, annoying, irritable cousin who was always insulting you but who was definitely at Thanksgiving dinner. I had never considered the possibility that one day he might be something else.
Something murderous.
The worst part was that Bob had given Cowl good advice. My death curse might well mess up this spell, but on the other hand, Cowl did not seem one to be afraid of death curses. If he gave me the chance to wait until he was actually at the delicate moment of drawing down the power, I wouldn't need anything as strong as a death curse to upset his balance.
Of course, it would kill me. Kumori's blade would see to that. But I could stop him if I was alive when it went down.
Cowl set the skull aside on the grass, then raised his hands above his head and let the sleeves fall back from his long, weathered arms covered in old scars. He began a chant in a low voice, steady and strong.
The vortex quivered. And then, almost delicately, it began to descend to Cowl, drifting toward him as lightly and slowly as a drifting feather of down.
Power rolled through the heavens, the clouds, the whirling vortex. Spirits and swirling apparitions screamed and wailed their tormented replies. Kumori's hands never weakened or wavered, but I could sense that almost every fiber of her attention was directed toward Cowl.
I might have one chance.
"Bob," I said. "Bob."
The blue eye lights turned toward me.
"Think," I said quietly. "Think, Bob. You know me. You've worked with me for years."
The blue eye lights narrowed.
"Bob," I said quietly. "You've got to remember me. I gave you a name."
The skull quivered a little, as if a shudder had run through it, but the eyes continued to burn cold and blue.
And then one of them flickered into a shade of its usual orange, then immediately back to cold blue.
My heart thudded in sudden excitement. Bob the skull, my Bob, had just winked at me.
Cowl continued his chant, and the clouds spun more and more rapidly. The rain abruptly stopped, as swiftly as if someone had turned off a faucet, and the air filled with spirits, ghosts, apparitions and specters, caught in some vast and unseen whirlpool that dragged them in accelerating circles. The power in the air made it hard to breathe, and the roar of wailing spirits, vast wind, and an earth-deep rumble grew steadily louder.