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“Mistress Cat, you’ve stolen my toy. Haven’t you heard what curiosity does to kittens? I suppose I’ll have to teach you. And Fraale, you dare to turn on me? Both you and Vanzir will live in my hell for a long, long, long time, and you’re going to rue every moment of every day that you still draw breath.”
And then, in back of him, a tall man appeared. Dressed in a long, black robe, he looked vaguely Chinese, but it was hard to place his background. This was no biker, no FBH thug. No, power drifted off of him in waves, setting off an internal alarm that shrieked so loud I thought I was going to scream.
And then I knew—somehow I knew. I stared at the creature who looked so human but was so far from humanity that there was no center point on the line where the two could meet. One of the Scytatians, summoned from the deepest bowels of the Netherworld. A Scythe Reaper.
Karvanak nodded, looking pleased. “Oh, yes, be afraid. I know who you are, Death Maiden, and I know that you’re young. You can’t hope to fight a Scytatian, and neither can your friends.”
I stood frozen in my tracks, the tattoo on my forehead shifting and pulsating in response to the being’s appearance.
Never moving my gaze, I said to the others, “Scytatians are from the realm of Death, the realm of the Harvestmen. I know this in my core. I can feel him. None of you can fight him—only me. And only because I have a direct connection to the realm of the Netherworld, so if I fall, get the fuck out of here. Because I guarantee you, if that thing touches you, it will rip out your heart and swallow it as a snack.”
And so we stood for what seemed like an eternity, waiting for that moment when the dam breaks and the battle begins.
CHAPTER 27
Every battle is different. Every fight has its own spirit. Every haunted battlefield is rife with not only ghosts of the dead but the soul of the battle. And just so, every sword has a consciousness. Every blade, a name. Sometimes steel and silver remain silent until they are gently coaxed out of hiding. Sometimes they never reveal themselves. And sometimes, they wake up on their own.
My dagger tingled in my hand as I stared at the Scytatian. I sucked in my breath. Could it be? My blade had never spoken to me before, but now I heard the whisper of a woman’s voice, delicate and ethereal and cold as ice.
“Lysanthra,” she whispered. “I am Lysanthra. And I am your blade.”
Without moving my gaze, I answered as silently as the message had reached my ears. “I am Delilah. I’m Fae, human, and Were. And . . . I’m a Death Maiden.”
I might hate the term, but I had to face it. Not only did I belong to three realms—Fae, human, and the realm of felines—but I also walked under the shadow of Death. I followed in the tracks of my master.ng at his prone form, I tried to summon up some feeling of regret, but the only thing I could think about was rescuing Chase, and how this man might have been the one to cut off Chase’s fingertip. I wiped my blade on his back and turned to help the others.
Roz had cut down the man in front of him, and Menolly had taken care of her opponent. For the moment, we were alone again.
Camille walked over to their swords and picked up one. “These could come in handy. Not iron—but sort of alloy. The enchantment’s to make them stronger and more deadly. I don’t think its aimed at any one particular race or species.” She tossed one to Morio, one to Roz, and offered the third to me. I took it, staring at the curving blade.
“I dunno, I’m used to my dagger. It would be hard to run with this. On the other hand, it’s good for holding people at arm’s length. Vanzir, you want it?”
Vanzir looked at the blade with a hunger I seldom saw on his face. “I’ll use it to cut out his heart,” he murmured, and I knew he was talking about Karvanak. He took the sword and swished it around. Obviously the dude had experience from the way he made it sing through the air.
I glanced at Morio. “You don’t have any clothes that you could spare in that bag of yours, do you?”
He grinned. “Don’t like looking like a hoochie mama? I have a spare karate outfit. The pants will be short, but it’s got to be better than what you’re wearing.” He zipped open his bag and tossed me a pair of black pants and a white top, along with a belt, also black.
“Thanks,” I said, yanking off my togs of torture. Everyone stared. I was buck naked beneath the lamé. “Look all you want, but right now, I don’t give a shit. I just want out of that crap and into something that won’t give me jock itch.”
Camille laughed as I yanked on the pants, which came up to my shins, and belted the top. “Feel better?” she said.
“Much. The material’s a lot heavier than that crap,” I added, kicking the glittering hooker togs. “At least my skin can breathe now.”
“Take them with you,” Camille warned me. “Morio, put the pants and halter in your bag. They’ve got her scent and essence on them, and there’s no way in hell we want anybody who might work magic to get hold of that.”
“Good point,” he said, snagging them up. He stuffed them in his bag, then zipped it shut.
“Okay, let’s find Chase. We’ve still got a bunch of bloatworgles and venidemons to deal with.” I led them into the hallway that branched off from the living room. The house reminded me of the one in which we’d fought the venidemons, though it looked in better shape. I also doubted we’d find a portal here; the energy wasn’t strong enough for that. At least, I hoped we wouldn’t.
I opened each door as we came to it. In one room, we found stacks of expensive rugs: wool, hand-woven, and beautiful. The next was a bathroom, and the third was a bedroom. Lush and opulent, the room smelled like RÄksasa. I was about to cross the threshold when Camille stopped me.
“Wards—strong wards. You’ll blow your head off if you go in there. Let’s find Chase and get him out of here.” She pulled me back from the door, and I nodded, looking around.
“Where’s the basement, Fraale?” I didn’t want to waste time running around like a chicken with my head cut off. Camille was right: Get in there, get Chase out, and then come back for Karvanak.
“See that door over there—the one that looks like it might lead to another bedroom?” She pointed to a door on the other side of the arch leading out of the hall. “That’s it. The basement is unfinished, so it’s cold and dank. I have no idea where the venidemons are. Karvanak was pretty clear about not letting them loose down there. The creatures are mindless and would have tried to use your detective as an all-you-can-eat diner.”
But the bloatworgles weren’t mindless . . . dangerous, yes. Disgusting, definitely. But mindless? No. I reached for the door handle.
