Winner Takes All (Were Witch Book 9) Read online

  Fenris and Bailey bounded into the cleared zone. The wolf-father was more experienced at conjuring portals, so he worked on that while Bailey surrounded the two of them with a dome-shield. A thousand furious alfar crashed into it, gnashing their teeth and waving their scimitars.

  A purple doorway appeared at the center of the safe zone. Fenris, back in human form, made a sharp beckoning motion and plunged into the astral murk. Bailey gave one last glance at the army they’d failed to defeat before she followed him out of their domain.

  Bailey stumbled through the portal, more disoriented than was the norm for her, and the recession of the dizzying cold left her staggered in the grass of her backyard. They had landed a short way behind the pole barn, at the edge of the Nordin family property before it ascended into the forested slopes of the Cascade foothills.

  It was dark; she guessed close to midnight. She’d left Earth at dusk. It had been afternoon at the training grounds, so that combined with the differential passage of time in the Other had disoriented her.

  Fenris leaned over her to close the gateway the instant she was clear of it. “They don’t possess the magic to follow us,” he pointed out. “But they know the longer route to our worlds. It’s only a matter of time until we have to deal with all of them.”

  “I don’t doubt it anymore,” Bailey muttered.

  Mentally, she added, Because you riled them up.

  They turned toward her home, walking past the pole barn, and the girl watched and listened. Half the lights in the house were on, and she could clearly hear the sounds of many people moving about and talking. It was as though her brothers had decided to throw a party. It didn’t seem too festive, though. She suspected it was another war council of local Weres.

  As the pair strode toward the back door, the girl thought of something.

  I told my brothers about the situation with Fenris, but how much did they tell other people? Do they have any way of knowing that we need to play along for now? All it takes is one moron to get huffy and wonder what Fenris is doing here, given what we know about him, then the entire plan is down the shitter.

  She turned to the wolf-father and put her hand on his arm. “Fenris, could you wait here a sec? I want to assure everyone I’m okay and kinda ease them into what’s going on. No offense, but usually when you’re around, that means there’s trouble.”

  His jaw tightened for a split second, but he nodded. “I understand, but we don’t have much time to waste. Please hurry.”

  The werewitch rushed ahead, pulling open the back door and intruding upon a group of over two dozen people who’d filled the kitchen, dining room, halls, and living room. She also saw and heard signs of more folks out in the front yard.

  Jacob, sitting at the head of the dining table, waved to her. “Bailey! Hey, we just got some people together to talk about what we’ll do if we have to fight against—”

  “Yes,” she shouted, her voice loud and sharp, cutting him off. “That’s great, thanks. We can use all the friends we can get.”

  She glared sharply at her brother and everyone else present, raising a finger to her lips and pointing surreptitiously behind her with her other hand.

  She added, “Yeah, fighting the monster invasions from all these fucking parallel worlds. Me and Fenris beat up a lot of them a couple weeks back, but it wasn’t enough. Now there’s a whole horde of the sons of bitches headed straight for Earth. That’s what I came to talk about, but it looks like you are way ahead of me. I see plenty of familiar faces.”

  Her brothers had summoned several of the strongest and most prominent pack alphas, as well as their lieutenants and other respected fighters, from amongst the Weres of the Hearth Valley, plus from some packs farther afield. All were men who’d been with her before and during the war against the Venatori. In particular, she noted Will Waldsbach, who’d been her strongest supporter among the lycanthropic community besides her own family.

  She glanced aside, looking through the dining room’s doorway into the living area in time to see her fiancé stride in, with Dante and Charlene trailing behind and beside him.

  “Ah,” Roland greeted her, “there you are. We were just discussing whether to try looking for you, calling you, or praying to you. How did things go?”

  She frowned. “Could’ve been better. Was I gone for only a few hours or a whole day or more?”

  Dante, a wizard not dissimilar from Roland though perhaps three or four years younger, raised a finger. “Twenty-seven hours, almost exactly,” he observed. “If it had been three, we Seattleites wouldn’t have made it here in time.”

  “Right,” she muttered. “Good point. Okay, well, Fenris is here to help out and explain to everyone what the current situation is, and then we’ll take volunteers. There’s a battle coming, and it’s better if we fight it sooner rather than later. On their turf. We’ve done enough fighting in this town.”

  Some of the assembled witches and werewolves looked confused, and Bailey knew why. They didn’t understand why Fenris was suddenly their friend again. She gave them sharp looks and repeated her pantomimed motion to stay silent.

  Then she leaned out the back door and motioned for the wolf-father to come in.

  The tall, broad-shouldered man in the hooded coat greeted them only briefly before he set to summarizing the looming threat of the dark elves’ invasion. Pleasantries had never been his strongest suit.

  While he spoke, Bailey examined the team her friends had assembled, and she was impressed. Numbers-wise, they were as nothing compared to droves of dark alfar she’d escaped, but fifty or so committed and powerful individuals were nothing to scoff at. In addition to the various Weres, Roland and Dante had also summoned a number of talented witches, whose extensive magical abilities Bailey could sense.

  Since she’d ascended to godhood, the arcane gave off a smell that never went away.

  Fenris told them all, “We are facing a scenario of total war—a full invasion by an entire race, not merely an organization, as was the case with the Venatori. The numbers of the dark alfar make those of the sorceresses’ Order look insignificant in contrast. We must move quickly and retaliate with immediate and overwhelming force. There can be no holding back, no hesitation, no fighting at anything less than your full ability, yet we have to be disciplined, organized. Bailey and I will go over an outline of our general strategy, and I will take us to a place where we can use the terrain and a modicum of good timing and good luck to our advantage.”

  They went over the tactics they would employ. It was impossible to plan for everything, but it helped that most of the people present had experience in battle.

  Everyone agreed that Bailey and Fenris, as deities who were orders of magnitude stronger than the rest of them, would be on the front lines, acting as the artillery and doing as much damage to the dark elves as they could.

  The witches and wizards would offer both offensive and defensive support, while the Weres would be divided between bodyguards for the casters and highly mobile search-and-destroy teams who could pursue and eliminate small bands of elves who tried to flee or reposition themselves for better archery. The Were teams would return to the main group before they could be cut off and encircled by other swarms of the enemy.

  The core group departed the house, bringing along their hangers-on from the front yard, with everyone gathering out back, where there was more room. Fenris opened an unusually wide portal, big enough for three people to pass through at once, and Bailey gave the troops one final, brief pep talk.

  “Keep in mind,” she announced, “this is no cakewalk, and pretending like it is won’t do us any good. We will be in danger. Fenris and I had to retreat, but we didn’t know what to expect. Now we do, and having you people with us will make a world of difference. I’ve met most of you, and I trust you. I couldn’t possibly ask for better backup. We can do this.”

  Four or five people made encouraging comments, and others pumped fists in the air.

  Fenris turned to them
before leading the way through the gate. “Remember, we cannot defeat all of them, but we can divide them, pick off many of their best troops, and most importantly, engage and eliminate their king. He must be our main target.” He turned to the shimmering violet surface and concluded with, “Follow me,” before stepping in.

  Bailey was right behind him, and Roland behind her. The dozens of Weres and witches filed in next, the whole group spinning through the astral channels in an instant before emerging into the red waste of the alfar’s home plane.

  At first glance, the werewitch grasped that they’d come to a different point than the one she and Fenris had visited earlier since the elven army had advanced beyond that. The skyline and lay of the land, though similar, were not identical.

  She also grasped that they had about ten seconds before the thousands-strong horde came within closing distance of combat. The entire ground for what looked like a square mile was covered with black-armored, white-haired forms.

  Someone behind her exclaimed, “Holy living fuck!”

  Bailey raised her right arm. “Shields up! Everyone fall into position like we said!”

  She and Fenris stormed forth, leaving the rest of the group behind while Roland and the other witches conjured protective barriers around them. And not a second too soon since the elves immediately began firing arrows from their black bows.

  Fenris incinerated the projectiles that came toward him, and Bailey swatted others aside. The remaining ones were trapped in or clattered off of the large amalgamated shield surrounding their allies.

  Then the alfar shouted in unison, their battle cry a single hissing voice that was like a sandstorm or a torrent of water, and they charged with drawn and waving swords.

  In the back of her mind, Bailey admired the creatures’ bravery since the ones out front had to know what was in store for them—namely, the wrath of two gods.

  She and Fenris hurled waves, bolts, storms, and vortices of arcane and elemental force at the army’s vanguard. Colored light flashed, air crackled, and dust and rock formed clouds as the entire front line of the advancing horde was lost to sight and then to existence. Hundreds of alfar died at once.

  But they were only a fraction of the whole, which Bailey estimated numbered between twelve to fifteen thousand. She doubted this was the entire dark elf force; they likely had multiple other brigades, divisions, and legions elsewhere.

  The alfar host split down the middle and continued their charge at flanking angles toward the two deities and the small expeditionary group behind them. By now, the witches had begun tossing offensive magic at their foes, picking off many, while most of the Weres had shifted in preparation for melee combat.

  Bailey mixed elemental attacks with advancing barrier waves, forcing elves backward while destroying them or hurling large numbers of them into the sky. Fenris had shifted into a giant lupine monster again, and he stomped, thrashed, devoured, and breathed out storms of fire and ice. Noise and chaos were everywhere.

  Will Waldsbach led four of his pack fighters in wolf form on a rapid hunter-destroyer mission against a squad of elven archers who’d taken position on a nearby ridge and were launching arrows at the human forces in a continuous wave of suppressing fire. They moved fast, nimbly dodging when half the alfar changed their attentions to trying to shoot them. Hairy quadrupedal bodies feinted, leaped, and twisted through the air, bounding up the ridge.

  One wolf took an arrow in the shoulder and yelped, though his early pounce brought down the archer who’d wounded him. The other four piled into the remaining eight elves, knocking some down and biting the legs and clawing the faces of others. In ten seconds, it was over. The snipers lay dead.

  As the five lycanthropes hurried back toward the main group, though, the one who’d been injured lagged badly behind. The others slowed their pace to protect him.

  Dante was closest to the Were quintet and noticed what was happening. “Oh, crap,” he breathed, seeing two dozen alfar swordsmen advancing down a nearby slope toward the group.

  He threw out his hand and conjured a wall of arcane shield-matter a couple of yards in front of the elves. They crashed into it, stumbling and disoriented, and it took them a moment to grasp what had happened and go around the translucent wall’s edges. By then, Will and his followers had covered enough distance to reach the safety of the main force.

  Will shifted back to human form. “Healer! We need someone with healing magic experience!” he shouted.

  Roland had been busy blocking arrows and casting exploding fireballs toward groups of elves who tried to sneak around Bailey and Fenris, but, sighing, he paused and ran back to the South Cliff alpha, instantly taking in what had happened and infusing the wounded lycanthrope with curative energy.

  “There,” the wizard reassured him. “You won’t be able to fight or run at full potential, but that ought to take care of most of the pain and stop it from getting any worse. Be careful.”

  He turned back to the main battle, his hands raised and ready.

  Bailey and Fenris unleashed artillery-level blasts of arcane plasma, channeling the heat, force, and sonic disturbance away from their allies. The landscape for half a mile flattened, and alfar died by the dozens.

  The two deities stood front and center in the brief respite-space they’d purchased, while smoke rose, arrows rained down, and bodies dropped around them.

  The wolf-father turned to the girl. “We must find their king. Gormyr is his name. Challenge him, defeat him, and take his power! That will neutralize the horde and put us in a better position to confront the next threat.”

  Bailey inhaled. “Noted.” She was of two minds, and it felt strange to her. She knew without any doubt that what Fenris had asked of her would further his own nefarious plans. And yet, it was also the best and smartest thing to do right now. Whatever the bigger picture might hold, she and all her friends would be swamped and killed if they did not find a way to win the battle within a matter of minutes, half an hour at the absolute most.

  And retreating would only allow the elves to continue their march toward Asgard and Earth. It was not an option.

  She raised a hand, conjuring a beacon of light that blazed above her head, and bellowed, “Onward!”

  Chapter Seven

  Bailey’s makeshift army had torn through most of the alfar division, killing a third of its members and dividing the rest in half. The front portion of their host had retreated into a collection of caves and tunnels, while the remainder of them had fled, at first. Then they’d looped around to harry the mortal forces from behind with arrows and sporadic ambushes from the rocks.

  One witch and one werewolf had died. Neither was anyone Bailey knew well, but she had to force herself to stay focused on the all-important task at hand: to plunge ahead and defeat the horde at its source.

  Fenris gestured at the nearest large cave mouth. “There. That should lead to the underground system where Gormyr dwells. I can sense him; he’s not far. Of course, we can expect that he’ll be well protected.”

  A platoon of archers and swordsmen had appeared ahead, before the dark entrance that the were-god had indicated.

  “Yeah,” Bailey remarked, “no shit. I’m getting tired of these assholes already, truth be told.” She launched a multi-forked lightning bolt at the group, which destroyed some of their arrows and killed or paralyzed them all. Her forward group of wolves finished off the ones who still lived.

  At the same instant, though, more elves popped out of a cluster of boulders behind them, sending arrows through a narrow gap in their shields while warriors with blades assaulted the sides of their formation, trying to overwhelm the witches.

  When Bailey turned back, her friends had defeated about half of them, but the ambushers were so well mingled with her people that she could not attack all of them at once. She prayed that Roland, Dante, Charlene, and Will knew what they were doing. Meanwhile, the werewitch telekinetically grabbed two elves and dashed them into the nearest rock wall at a good hun
dred or so miles per hour. Their bodies crumpled, and they did not move again.

  The group fought free of the ambush, though another Were and one witch had taken wounds.

  Bailey swept her arm over her head. “Into the tunnel! Weres on the outside, witches on the inside. We can finish this right away if we get to their king!”

  She allowed Fenris to spearhead the way into the cave. In the back of her mind, she wondered if she could trust him with such an important duty; but he clearly had more knowledge of the alfar realm than she did. And his plans called for the two of them to seem to be on the same side until the bitter end of the process. For the time being, she had to play along and hope the hour of his betrayal was still in the future.

  Behind Fenris, four Weres piled in, then Bailey went, with Roland and a handful of other witches right behind her. The remainder of the casters followed, with the rest of the Weres bringing up the rear. The witches kept them shielded and also cast spells of gentle illumination to make the rocky tunnels navigable for themselves. The lycanthropes had little trouble seeing in the dark.

  Dozens of elves chased them into the corridor from the surface. The rearward casters destroyed them or delayed them with walls of fire or ice or bolts of arcane plasma, and the Weres in the utmost back ripped apart the ones who got too close.

  Other combatants came at them from side tunnels. Fenris had led them into a labyrinth, a honeycombed network of subterranean passages, which likely acted as a military base for the entire main force of the alfar’s army. Bailey threw sheets and columns of supercharged static electricity down any tunnel where something moved toward them. It would be enough to paralyze or kill any elves it struck without damaging the structural integrity of the corridor.

  Fenris led them through winding masses of blackish-red stone, and the tunnel widened enough for Bailey and the wolf-father to fight side by side in front, though the girl continued to divide her attention between that which lay ahead and that which chased them.