Water bubbled up from the indentations his heels had made, shot into the sky and then rained down over the four women, an acid rain that threatened to consume them.
Tatijana shifted partially into the blue dragon, her wedge-shaped head lifted to the sky, mouth open while her hands followed a complicated pattern.
Waters chemical, acid rain,
I drink your strength having no pain.
You quench my thirst, revive my will,
I transmute this water making it evil’s swill.
When the last drop was gone and Xaviero stood gaping at her, she shifted back and smiled almost gently at him. You taught me that trick when I was ten years old. Have you forgotten? My dragon is a water dragon and you used me, forced me to consume acid rain. My dragon seems to have developed a taste for it. She smiled serenely and gave the mage a small salute.
Xaviero whirled around, ignoring the scattering hellhounds who howled like lost souls, uncertain what he wanted them to do. They began snapping at one another. Two went down in a fierce fight while the others rushed to bite and claw the combatants.
So intent on destroying the four women he blamed for thwarting his plan, Xaviero appeared not to notice. He continued spinning, his robes flaring out in a wide circle, scattering sparks over the ground. Blue flames burst from his fingertips, so that he looked as if he was circled by one long, continuous blue flame. He produced a wild wind that fanned the dying flames of the pyre into a fearsome conflagration.
His hands flowed, his voice rising as he sent the blue fire streaking overhead straight at Branislava. She ignored the screams and shouts to get down, standing her ground, holding Xaviero’s gaze as he smirked at her, certain the flame would devour all four of the women.
As the heated missile bore down on them, Branislava stepped forward, just a little ahead of the others, lifting her arms straight over her head as if putting on a long gown. Her hands moved gracefully in the air, like a dancer telling a story.
Born in fire, honed in ice,
I call to the four corners.
Make your energies mine,
I call to fire, sister kin,
I absorb your abilities,
Taking all within.
She turned to embrace the battlefield.
I call to Pisionics swinging blades,
Spontaneous combustion,
Magick is made.
Take that which is evil,
Return it to realm,
Encasing all in your fire,
So none may return.
Her body shimmered red gold and then the blue flame hit her. Her entire body glowed blue and flames erupted all around her, seemingly engulfing her.
Xaviero laughed gleefully, the sound shrill over the silent battlefield. He didn’t seem to notice the great beasts standing for a moment, uncertain there on the battlefield and then tucking their tails and wandering off. As they stepped into the forest, out of sight and mind of the mage, they dissolved into nothing.
The blue flame danced for a moment, whirling around Branislava almost playfully. Through the blue of the fire gleamed first gold and then red, followed by orange. The colors swirled around her from head to toe and then slowly faded into her body, as if she’d absorbed the flames.
Seriously, Xaviero, is your mind going? she taunted. You actually used elements to try to harm us? You must do better than that or the four of us will have to send you straight through the gates of hell to join your brother. You signed a deal with the devil in blood. I believe that paper is in your pocket, and he will hold you to it.
Xaviero cursed her in several languages. All of you are dead. Every person you care about is dead. They just don’t know it yet, he promised.
Smiling at Xaviero, seemingly unaffected by his rage or his promise, she lifted her hands and sketched symbols in the air between them. The symbols hung there, runes of flames. Xaviero tensed, trying to read her attack on him. His hands came up in answer for another round in their battle.
Zev struck him from behind. Xaviero’s eyes went wide in absolute shock. He hadn’t noticed that his hellhounds had disappeared and that he was no longer within a protective circle. It never occurred to him that Branislava was merely keeping his attention on her—that all four women were using delaying tactics, simply playing a game with him while the real attack came from elsewhere.
In Lycan form, Zev’s wolf bit through the scrawny neck and clawed down the mage’s back, ripping open flesh to pull the spinal cord free. He flung it on the fire, whipped the body around and plunged his fist deep into the mage’s chest, clawing for the heart. He tossed that on the fire as well. Shifting to his natural form, he drew his sword and severed the head, throwing that on the fire. The body followed.
That’s one way to do it, Branislava whispered into Zev’s mind.
“Feel better?” Fen asked.
“A little bit of overkill?” Dimitri suggested drolly.