The sun hadn’t even risen yet, the hour too early for anyone to willingly be up and out. Which was good news because it meant there were no humans around to witness the violent act I intended to unleash.
I went corporeal off to the side where Amarella and her cohort weren’t looking.
Then I waited for a beat, evaluating all the potential outcomes of every single attack point. They didn’t appear to be armed. Nor had they picked up on my aura right outside.
I almost sighed.
But I preferred this over a real fight. The faster I handled Amarella, the quicker I returned to Guinevere.
However, before I acted, I cast my power net around me one more time, seeking any other potential players on the board.
And came up blank.
Right, then.
I ripped the SUV door off its hinges and grabbed Amarella before she even had a chance to cry out. I yanked her out of the car and silenced her screams with the blade by sinking the dagger right into her mouth. No use in wasting any time.
The Nephilim started the car, but with Amarella gagging and dangling from my knife, I turned and bound Trevor beneath a wave of power. It wasn’t telekinesis so much as bands of invisible fiery rope. It didn’t “burn”; it simply held his aura in place. This was the part of me that often made other demons kneel. They could sense the invisible weight of my essence on their shoulders, demanding they submit.
Which was why Guinevere always supplicated in my presence. She couldn’t physically feel my energy, just sense the intensity of it on her spirit.
Trevor gasped, his hands lifting to fight the invisible bonds.
I hadn’t known if my power would work on him, what with him being a Nephilim and lacking an aura, but it pleased me that it did. Because it meant I could crush his spirit.
Literally.
He stiffened as I squeezed and fell forward against the steering wheel, his hand dropping from the gearshift as he lost control of his body.
With the Nephilim bound by my power, I returned my attention to Amarella.
Blood flowed freely from inside her mouth, hot and sticky on my hand. Her eyes were wide and fearful, and her fingernails dug into my arm. The sounds coming from her didn’t even sound human, and the blood flowing down her throat gurgled as she breathed.
I didn’t feel… anything. All the hatred I’d felt at her betrayal just didn’t carry the same weight as it used to, and I had Guinevere and Zane to thank for that. Looking at Amarella now, I realized, I never loved her.
But I thought I might love Guinevere. And Zane, too.
An analysis for another day.
Right now, I had a former consort to slay.
I yanked the dagger out of her mouth. Without the blade holding her up through her soft palette, she collapsed to her knees on the grass, more thick blood spilling over her lips as she struggled to inhale. The liquid pooling from her appeared black beneath the moonlight—an appropriate color.
While I might have overcome her betrayal against me, I was not over the way she’d tormented Guinevere. And for what? Vengeance against me? How pathetic.
My fury turned cold and calculating. Amarella should have died a century ago. Yet she’d survived and hurt someone under my protection.
A crime worthy of death.
Not that there was any question regarding her fate.
I lashed out with my power, only rather than hold her down like I’d down to Trevor, I molded my energy into a weapon and wrapped it around her neck.
Then I squeezed.
Hard.
Her hands went to her throat, searching for the binds and finding nothing but air.
