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As I turned to get up, he was on top of me, raising one fist over my head. My hand did my thinking for me, and I thrust Lysanthra into his balls from my half-seated position. The tip of the blade sliced neatly through the material of his trousers and he screamed. Lysanthra tasted blood and, eager for more, spurred me on. I felt her savage joy surge through my hand and twisted the blade, driving it deeper to feed her thirst.
My opponent dropped his fist; the blade he’d been drawing with his other hand skid across the floor as he furiously clawed at my dagger, trying to pull it out of his scrotum.
Lysanthra screeched in my head, still thirsty, and I ripped her back out of his flesh. As he cupped his balls, trying to stop the flow of blood, I swung her up, underhanded, tip directly under his chin. As the blade slid neatly through the skin, I let out a shuddering breath. Lysanthra sang as the blood satiated her need.
I was on my feet before he hit the ground, looking for the next target. Smoky was finishing off one of the demons, raking long talons across his midsection, and Shade was doing something to another. Camille and Morio were holding hands as a sickly plum-colored haze washed over the fourth Tregart, and—choking—he sank to the ground, scrabbling at his throat.
Shamas faced the fifth. He had a black eye; the Tregart had landed the first blow. Shamas’s hands were filled with what looked like blood, but then I realized it was some sort of ectoplasm and, as he thrust his palms forward, the substance splashed over the demon. The Tregart screamed as it slathered him, burning him as a cloud of ash and soot exploded. The demon pawed at his face, not realizing that half of it was gone, and then dove for Shamas.
Our cousin was physically fit, that was for sure. He nimbly dodged the attack, then swung around, his foot connecting with the blistered muscle that lay beneath the flesh of his opponent. The Tregart screamed as Shamas dropped him.
Chase pulled out a pair of nunchakus as the demon fell in front of him. He let go with a whistling blow, and the wooden stick hit the demon so hard we all heard the skull crack. Another blow and what was left of his face vanished into a bloody pool. A third and we heard ribs fracturing.
One look at Chase’s expression told me he was making up for lost time. I hurried over to him before he pulverized the body and, one hand on his shoulder, quietly said, “He’s dead, Chase. He’s dead.”
Chase jerked his head up, a look of pure fury on his face. Then his anger dropped away and he lowered his arm as he stared at the demon’s body. He started to say something, but I shook my head. There was no need. We all had demons of our own to exorcise.
“Where are the others?” Camille kept her voice low.
“I’m not sure, but I’m betting they’re still around somewhere.” I knocked on the door and said, as loud as I could without attracting unwanted attention, “It’s safe. We’re here to rescue you.”
Slowly, a click sounded, and the metal door swung open. A group of Supes peeked out, and I saw that several had changed shape—probably out of fear. There were two dogs, an owl, and three still in human form hiding in the room. We were near an exit—probably where they’d been headed when they’d been ambushed. Shamas peeked outside.
“Do you know how many of the…bikers…there are?” I asked the group.
“Nine, I think,” Jade, the owner of the Davinaka, said. “That’s all I saw.”
Shamas returned. “Safe enough.”
“Guide them out—make sure they reach safety.” I turned back to the hostages. “We’re taking care of the situation. There are still four of the…bikers…in the mall. So please, follow Officer ob Olanda as fast as you can and do what he says.”
The owl flew down to perch on the shoulder of one of the men, and the dogs followed them obediently as Shamas led them to safety. As soon as we saw them near the patrol cars, I closed the door and turned back to the others, leading them into the break room. If the other Tregarts came back, we could shut the door if we needed to—we knew it had already held against them.
The break room was replete with table, chairs, sink, microwave and refrigerator, doors that opened into a small bathroom, and a cleaning closet. A motivational poster hung on one wall—a picture of a werepuma in midchange. The caption read, Be All That You Are.
“Okay, we need to find the others and dispatch them as soon as possible. If she was right, then we have four left. I just hope they didn’t get out into the rest of the mini-mall or we’re going to have one hell of a time ferreting them out.” I wiped my dagger on a paper towel, wincing as bits of brain matter and blood smeared on the sheet. I tossed it into the garbage can and washed my hands, using the dishwashing soap to scrub away the blood splatters.
“Where would you go if you were a Tregart?” Morio looked around. “How much bigger is this store?”
“Not all that big.” I frowned. “I guess we’d better head out into the rest of the mini-mall. Let’s wait for Shamas, though. I want to know if any of the five we killed was—what name did he say? Feris—the Tregart he trained under.”
Camille let out a small choking sound. “I just can’t believe he actually trained with those scum. Not Shamas. He was the only one of our cousins who treated us with any respect—”
I shook my head and held up my hand. “He treated you with respect, Camille. Shamas never had a lot to say to either Menolly or me. I think either he had a crush on you or he liked that you work with magic.”
She flinched. “No. I refuse to believe it. He wasn’t like that…” Her voice trailed off as Shamas entered the room. “How are they?”
“Safe. Scared. I found Thayus—he managed to get outside shortly after I led the others out. He said he hid from the others but kept an eye on them. They apparently realized we were beating the crap out of their friends because they vanished. He’s not sure how, but they just…held hands and vanished.”
“Great. Teleportation. That’s the last skill we need for them to have. By the way, was Feris among the ones we killed?” I stared at him, challenging him. For some reason I was feeling uber-territorial. Camille sounded so bruised that I didn’t want him to hurt her. To disappoint her like our father had.
“No. He got away. In fact, I’ll bet he’s the one who managed to teleport them out.” Shamas pulled a chair up and swung one leg over, settling himself on the seat. His hair was pulled back in a tight braid, and his eyes flashed, the same violet as Camille’s but without the silver flecks. He was a good-looking man and had not suffered for lack of female company—Shamas picked up dates as easily as I hacked up hairballs.
“Tell us about him. What can he do?” Camille smacked him lightly on the back of the head. “I can’t believe you did this, Shamas. I can’t believe you studied with the enemies of my order.”
He let out a long sigh as Smoky glowered and Morio gave him a cold stare. “I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Camille. I…I always envied you. You were studying magic. You were half human, but they were still letting you study under the Moon Mother. And I…I couldn’t get any of the guilds to accept me for study.”
“What about Aunt Rythwar and Uncle Foss?”
