I take a final gasping breath, choking on the acrid stench of my burning body.
“Unworthy,” the druid hisses.
I’m fading. Falling. Disappearing…
But then, just before the last light dims, I see it in the distance, hovering just beyond his left shoulder.
A faint smile touches my lips.
Stevie….
In the span of a single heartbeat, the snowy owl dives at us like a literal bat out of hell, smashing its talons into the druid’s neck.
With a bone-rattling howl, Judgment spins on his heel and swings the flaming staff. But the owl is too cunning, too quick. It launches away, then swoops back down for another direct hit. This time, Judgment manages to clip a wing, the white feathers singing at the tips.
The sight of those perfect feathers coming to harm fills me with rage so pure, so endless, all of my pain is forgotten.
With renewed purpose, I clamber to my feet and raise my arms, calling on the very last of my magickal and mental reserves. An image sharpens in my mind’s eye—a Celtic knight on a white steed, blue cape flapping behind him, sword raised high, horse and rider charging headlong into battle.
It’s the Prince of Swords, one of the knights of the Tarot, ready to answer my plea.
The spell comes to me easily.
Prince of Swords, majestic knight
I beg of your magick to aid in this fight
Call forth the wind, the lightning, the power
And I shall unleash the wrath of the Tower
At my fevered chanting, the wind whips into a wild frenzy around us, so fierce it nearly tears the tattered clothes from my back. Lightning strikes again and again, splitting the ground, toppling sandstone towers, setting the night sky on fire. It takes all of my strength and fortitude to stand my ground against the blustering storm, but the owl is unfazed, attacking the druid at will, navigating the swirling winds with grace, just as I knew the creature would.
Just as I knewSteviewould. She and her familiar are one, fused together by magick and a bond I can’t even begin to understand.
Judgment attempts to fight back, but he’s no match for the combined power of my spell and Stevie’s owl magick. His neck is bleeding profusely, his filthy robe in tatters. Holding tight to the staff, he attempts to call in more fire magick, but it’s no use. The wind steals his breath, battering his body until he has no choice but to retreat.
As the wind begins to fade, the owl makes one more slow, graceful arc overhead, and Judgment vanishes in the distance.
The storm is over, and I’m left once again among the smoking ruins of Breath and Blade.
Spent and close to death, I finally give in to the tremble in my muscles. I drop to my knees with no more than a soft thud.
The owl lands soundlessly before me, preening its white wings.
I reach out and touch its downy head. Closing my eyes, I manage one more smile for the woman I love.
“You’re magnificent,” I whisper.
It’s the last thing I do before I faceplant into the dirt.
Nine
CASS
Kneeling before the prisoners, Professor Maddox sets four Tarot cards on the ground in front of the cage—all swords.
Casey and Janelle are conscious now, alternately hurling obscenities and begging for their lives, but nothing will deter the professor from her spellwork.
