Page 283 of Sky’s Edge

I had to concentrate on what was going on with me.

The ones that had me were one too many, their strength was demonic, they had to be males, and they’d clearly cottoned on to the fact not only did I have help, but I wasn’t going down without a fight.

And I was fighting with everything I had.

They wrestled me to the edge, with me struggling all the way, screaming at the top of my lungs, clawing, tearing, kicking.

Oh gods, oh gods…

They were going to send me over the edge. No adopting a cat. No bringing the citadel back to its former glory. No planning my wedding with my mom.

No Tanyn.

They sent me over the edge.

I let out a piercing scream.

I heard Mon shriek, “No!”

But when I hit the flames, it felt like I hit a wall of fluffy pillows.

Holy Lilith.

And gently, the flames spit me out, back onto the plateau, feet safe on stone, body unscathed.

The waving shadows seemed staggered by this, I knew, because they were motionless.

A fatal mistake.

One materialized, his face a picture of shock. He started folding toward the plateau, and as he dropped, I saw Monique behind him, yanking her knuckle blade out of his back.

She kicked him into the flames and then turned to the other one.

He materialized when Monique’s staff pierced his throat from behind.

A spray of blood splashed all over me.

He gurgled.

I gagged.

Demon eyes stared at me.

They’d all been demons.

But demons could not glamor, only fae could.

Someone was handing out illegal potions.

And I had a feeling I knew who that someone was.

Monique yanked her staff out.

He fell to his knees and—his body jerking grotesquely, his mouth open, desperately trying to pull in air, his blood staining the dark stone—he went through the death throes at our feet.

When he went still, I noted Mon was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her conjured weapons, something I thought only a fae could do, still radiating.

I was doing the same (without the weapons, of course).