“Go, go,” I said urgently, both aloud and to Atticus.
Magic surged from within the apartment, its caress “clean” rather than dark. I didn’t recognize the spell, but magically, it had the same feel as the defensive flare I’d felt in the mall.
Monica, inside and spelling.
In the mall, that defensive flare had obviously been faked because she was working with her captors at the time. Here, it felt more desperate. More a matter of life or death.
The question was, what had changed? Had they decided she was too much of a problem now? Unlikely, given she was their one—and only—ace when it came to getting what they wanted out of her father.
René hit the door with a spell so strong it tore the thing off its hinges and sent it tumbling into the room. “Find Monica,” he growled, and disappeared inside.
I swore and raced after him. The screaming had cut off abruptly, but the remnants of Monica’s spell drifted out from the room to my right. Directly ahead, almost totally encasing what looked to be a large kitchen-diner, was a roiling mass of shadows—the same sort of shadows that had haunted the mall and hidden theéan olcthat had been hunting me. And René was running straight into them.
The man had a death wish, obviously.
I wound a repelling spell around my fingers and wished the kitchen had been clear of shadows so I could grab some salt on the way through. It would have enabled me to quickly create a barrier around me and Monica.
The thought of confronting one of the bastards had fear tripping through me, but I ignored it and ran toward what I presumed was the main living area, given it faced the racecourse.
Atticus?
Here.
Define here.
In the living room, protecting Monica’s unworthy ass.
She’s alive?
Yes. The éan olc currently prowls to the left of the door, looking for a way past my barrier; a man hides behind that same door on its right side. Spin your spell at the demon and then take out the man.
Won’t that just piss off said demon?
These demons are not autonomous. It will retreat into the shadows rather than attack, as it has not been sent here after you.
You can’t be sure of that.
You do not run lightly. If it was going to attack you, it would have already.
Hope you’re right.
You need to accept that I am rarely wrong.
I snorted and unleashed my spell, casting it through the door and then around to the left. There was an odd fluttering of wings and a soft thump, then the sense of evil evaporated. Relief stirred, but I pushed it away and, with as much force as I could muster, threw my weight against the front of the door, crushing my would-be assailant between it and the wall.
There was a grunt of pain, then the door came back at me, slamming against my hands and jarring my wrists. A second later, a thickset man staggered free, his nose mashed and bloody. I didn’t give him recovery time; I feigned swinging my handbag at his head, then released it as he ducked and spun around, lashing out with a booted foot. It hit the side of his face with enough force to split his cheek. Blood sprayed across the wall and the floor, and he roared in fury and pain. He turned, his fists clenched and arms swinging. I retreated and hurriedly called a containment spell to my fingers, but didn’t unleash it as a flash of brown and gold cut between me and him.
Then Ginny was on his head, her claws digging deep into his scalp. He screamed, and this time, it was all pain. He tried batting her away, but she avoided his blows easily and went for his spine instead.
“If you don’t want your back shredded, I suggest you stop fighting right now and sit your ass down,” I growled, the containment spell buzzing around my fingers. Even though he’d shown no inclination to spell against either of us—suggesting he was likely an ordinary thug, rather than a witch—I wasn’t about to relax just yet.
Although the question had to be asked: Why would they send thugs here as well as theéan olc? What was the point?
Food, Atticus said.Monica would not satisfy three of them.
Three?Meaning René had gone into that smoke against two of them?
He is capable.
