“Anything else,” stuttered Maeve. Begging now, and hating every bit of how it sounded in her voice. She had never begged like this. “Anything else you ask and I will give.”
“The spell, Maeve,” said Mal, shaking his head like he thought she was stupid.
Mal released her with such a forceful shove, she landed on the floor, unable to brace herself fully. She cried out as her torture increased. It wasn’t solely a snapped or shattered bone that ailed her. Toxic Magic ate at her skin. He stalked across the room, his eyes on a new target.
Zimsy.
Maeve scrambled, Obscuring, only partially there as the pain of her broken arm thrumming through her weakened her Magic.
Zimsy stood with her back tall as the guests around her scrambled to put space between themselves and Mal’s pursuit.
“Zim,” began Maeve, but her throat closed instantly before she could tell her friend to run.
Mal prepared a single finger as he continued to move towards her.
“It seems cruel to attack you this way, when you can’t perform Magic,” said Mal.
Zimsy’s chin lifted. She raised her hand, palm flat towards Mal, as Magic swirled against her skin. Mal stilled. He sneered.
“You? How could you possibly perform such Magic?”
“Mal—” called Maeve, forcing herself to her feet.
Lethal Magic rippled from him as he turned back towards her. “Don’t you dare call me that.” He whipped back towards Zimsy, pointing at her. “How is it you came to possess Dread Magic? Your Curse was broken, effectively ending any shared Magic granted to you for the purposes of serving in slavery.”
That last word brought a sharp breath up through Maeve, anger brewing deep in her chest.
Zimsy swallowed hard. “When Maeve broke my Enslavement Curse, some of her own Magic slipped into me,” explained Zimsy, her beautiful face on Mal.“It’s not much,” her eyes shifted to Maeve, “but I am honored to have it all the same.”
The air turned thick, like the atmosphere before thunder rolls. Green light pulsed at Mal’s finger, Maeve’s senses feeling it before it ever manifested.
Her next words weren’t heard over the blast of Magic.
“You can have the spell, just leave her—”
Zimsy’s body lifted from the floor beneath Mal’s power, agony spread across her delicate features. If Maeve was breathing, she’d never felt more suffocated.
“Stop, please stop—” screamed Maeve.
Zimsy’s body contorted in the air, her hands snapping backwards in an unnatural way.
“STOP!”Maeve wailed, turning back towards Shadow, her screams echoing off the stone walls as she fell to her knees. The poisonous Magic penetrating her shattered arm fried her mouth.
Shadow didn’t move an inch. Her eyes were glazed in a bloodthirsty, hypnotized way that made Maeve’s heart shatter. She couldn’t tell where Mal ended and Shadow began.
The sounds were horrific.
Mal continued until Zimsy’s arms were twisted in all directions. Exposed bones shattered at the tips. Blood spilled to the floor, pooling up beneath her.
Maeve didn’t even know if she was screaming anymore. The entire room was hauntingly still. Frozen in fear.
Mal watched Zimsy for a moment longer before letting her slim body slam to the floor. Maeve pushed off the ground to rush towards her, but Abraxas grabbed her waist, firmly pulling her back. She shook in his grip as another wave of spinning nausea passed through her. Her cheek prickled with growing, sharp Magic where Mal had struck her.
Zimsy didn’t move. Maeve couldn’t even see if her chest rose and fell.
“Stop,” whispered Abraxas in Maeve’s ear, his voice dry and strained. “Stop fighting.”
Maeve pulled against his arms around her, but her hands met a bar of steel around her. She was pathetically weak. Mal’s Magic along her arm pulsed in satisfaction.
