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“No, they haven’t been able to kill me,” the voice said. “Just like you weren’t able to fight me. You tried your best, Detective, but you couldn’t do a thing when I was holding you down. When I made you kiss my feet.”
Karvanak was standing there, in his Calvin Klein suit and polished shoes, his wraparound sunglasses hiding the cruelty in his eyes. The light glinted off his shaved head, and he gave me a soft smile.
“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.
And with that acknowledgment, the truth I’d been hiding from for months faced me square on. No matter how much I’d tried to avoid my fate, I knew I had to face—and embrace—the person I was becoming.
Delilah, the Death Maiden. Delilah, obliterator of souls. Delilah, harvest woman of the dead.
My blade sent a bolt of energy reeling through my hand, and her gentle laughter rang in my ears. “Your father chose well to give me to you. Wake me, Delilah. I will help you walk through the darkness. I will teach you how to grow strong and keep your soul intact when all around you is madness.”
Destiny in action. Fate on the move. “How do I wake you up?” I asked. “And why have you never spoken to me before?”
Lysanthra’s breath tingled through my elbow, through my shoulder, into my heart. “Only when I’m wielded by one who loves with the depth of her soul, and who fights to protect the one she loves, will I speak. You have been close to summoning me before, but today—today you fight with the desire to die rather than see the one you love destroyed.”
Chase. It had to be Chase. I was in love with Chase. Despite the passion I felt for Zachary and the betrayal from Chase’s lies, I still loved him. Fool? Maybe. But sometimes our hearts don’t play the logic game. Sometimes the Hags of Fate like to see us squirm.
“Tell me what to do.”
Lysanthra’s voice was so delicate she might have been the tinkle of wind chimes, the delicate call of a night-roaming bird to her mate. “Say my name three times aloud. And then I am yours. But you will not be able to kill this creature using me. For that, you must use your own powers.”
I raised the blade. The Scytatian waited, silent and brooding. Karvanak looked impatient but didn’t seem in a rush to hurry things along. Smart move. The Scytatian could make mincemeat out of him in three seconds flat.
“Lysanthra, Lysanthra, Lysanthra!” I called out, raising the blade. A shaft of light burst from the tip, and I flushed, new strength flowing into my veins. Lysanthra fell silent, but I knew we were bound together.
Camille kept quiet, her gaze fixated first on my blade, then on my face. When Menolly started to speak, Camille shushed her and smiled gravely at me.
I turned back to the Scytatian and Karvanak. “You—demon scum. You’re so sure of yourself, so get your ass over here and fight. The Scytatian’s got your back. What are you waiting for?”
Karvanak let out a low snarl, then he shimmered, and his head took the form of a tiger, claws ripped from his nails, and he stepped forward.
At that moment, the sound of a freight train came whistling down the steps, and a blur of white and silver crashed into the room, knocking over the RÄksasa as the whirlwind whipped down the stairs. Straight out of the Ionyc Sea, Smoky landed in a crouch and rolled to straddle the demon.
Smoky promptly began to beat the crap out of Karvanak, but the RÄksasa was strong. He managed to get a hand free and clawed at Smoky, gashing the dragon across the face.
