The Dream Crafter(80)

Merc was struggling, getting to his feet. From behind her brother, those beautiful hazel eyes cut to her.

And then she understood.

Merc wasn’t fighting…because this was Nakoa. Because it was her beloved baby brother, and he wouldn’t hurt her, not like that.

“No,” she whispered, not until it hit her ears realizing it was said aloud. And Nakoa got in another strike before Merc could work up a defense, a cry spilling from his lips as Nakoa got him in a kidney punch. Louder now, “Merc, no! Fight him.”

Whether he would have or not, it was too late. The berserker had the upper hand, and that black film of magic which had stopped Laire and even managed to get past Fallon’s defenses had no effect on her brother. Nakoa shrugged it off, continued his vicious beating of Merc.

Merc was on the ground, and the berserker glanced her way, its face softening until Nakoa’s eyes once again resided in that face. He left Merc on the ground, long strides reaching her. “Do you have the Spellbook?”

Daydreams of this moment, of the thousand ways they would be reunited, and never had this horror crossed her mind, her Nakoa in front of her, covered in the blood of her beloved, leaving the beaten up body behind him.

Nakoa put his hands on her shoulders. “Amana, it’s okay. It’s me.”

She couldn’t answer, couldn’t comprehend. All in front of her was red and black, liquid pooling around her, lines made from draining life and oncoming death.

No longer waiting for her to answer, Nakoa pulled the bag from her shoulder and opened it. A quick nod when he saw the Spellbook, then he was grabbing her, pulling her away from Merc.

Now she woke up. “NO! Merc.”

She turned to the body lying on the ground, but a large arm wrapped around her waist and hoisted her up, and she was screaming, flailing, dragging her nails into the warm tanned skin she so loved to get back to the body on the ground.

She was thrown into the car and it sped off. Unlike that other capture, this time everything she wanted was in front of her – her brother, and freedom, and the promise of them together forever.

And she was selfish, because she swore this was all she ever wanted, that she would never ask for more if this was given to her, but now she was breaking that oath, because she still wanted a life with her brother, still wanted them holding hands and walking on the beach, but now she wanted Merc to be waiting for their return, cooking in the kitchen or painting because he would no longer be the mercenary, though he’d always be deadly.

She’d save her brother, but she wouldn’t sacrifice Merc to do it.

The other Amana was sitting next to her in the backseat of a car, an eerie parallel to their reunion   not long ago. “You don’t have to choose. Both are possible, if you listen to me.”

“What would you have me do?”

Her devil smiled.





Chapter Forty-Four




‡


The magic in his skin was skittering in panic, surging throughout his body to try to deal with the damage.

Merc pushed up, cataloguing the myriad of ways he was fucked. He needed a healer now, but even if going to a hospital meant he’d be imprisoned immediately, he didn’t think he could move that far.

So this is the damage a berserker can do. Impressive. Unlike anything he’d experienced, even in training. It went beyond mere power. There was an instinctive magic in Amana’s brother, magics that not only negated his own power, but were screwing with it and keeping him from even beginning to recover from the brutal beating.

Shisen would salivate over the possibility of getting his hands on that boy for training, because if this was what he was capable of untrained…

Shadows grew at the entrance to the alley, and four men appeared. Merc’s could pick up slight magic and evil intent. At full power, he’d laugh at these idiots.

He wasn’t at full power.

“Fuck, it is Merc. I thought you had to be shitting me, man.”

“Dead or alive, that’s what was put out.” Cruelty and avarice ran through the words. “The Guild always pays up.”

Strategies and ideas ran through his mind at lightning pace, but nothing worked, all of them were discarded, and four men now stood above his broken, bloodied body.

*

“Aren’t you going to start bragging about knowing how Nemesis was still working with Merc and your idea to feed her information was brilliant?”

“I think I’ll wait until I actually have the Spellbook and not a sleeping berserker rolling around.” Fallon pulled the door of the car open and shook the unconscious Nakoa, who was not moving under the abuse. She tilted her head towards Laire. “Magic in nature?”

Laire came to Nakoa’s side. Keeping her hand three inches above Nakoa’s skin, Laire moved it over the length of his arm and over his head. “It’s not like anything I’ve ever felt. This is the Dream Crafter’s doing.”