Page 188 of A Thief Among Fae

“I am General Neiro of the Underearth. My granddaughter is a disappointment to our kind.” She points her iron blade at Desmond. “Just as you are a disappointment to yours.”

A boom shakes the columns, and a disc of dark, purple light opens behind Neiro. A furred hand emerges, followed by a goat’s head and an armored humanoid body with bat-like wings. The creature screeches a shrill raptorial cry, and my blood runs cold.

Neiro is a summoner. She just called a bánánach from the demonic planes of hell. I thought those beasts were only legends.

Desmond charges. Neiro blocks his first blow. The bánánach advances on cloven feet, its hulking great sword drawn to join the fight.

Shit, that leaves me with Gashil.

Gashil smirks as he prowls toward me.

I toss my mask aside and glimpse a revenant guard with a knife sheathed at his hip. I levitate it to me. Two blades. That’s all I have. I can’t throw them and risk Gashil catching both. I’ll have to get close enough to strike, and that won’t be easy.

He draws both of his swords. I spy a serving platter on the ground, then summon it to hover in front of me.

“A mere plate? That’s all you could think of?” Gashil laughs.

He lunges. I block the first strike with the platter, then the second. I halve the distance between us, both blades hovering within my reach.

The next strike cleaves the platter in half. I dodge Gashil’s blades, but his leg spins out, kicking my hip. I trip, my back hitting the floor with a sickening slap.

My poofy skirts fan around me, blocking my sight. Shit! I pull them down, then roll. Gashil’s spiked boot stomps where my head just was. I untether my shoes and throw them at him, then scramble to my feet.

Midnight can’t come fast enough. I need this dress off now. The blades I’m controlling hack through my skirts until they’re severed just below my knees. Better, but not good enough.

Gashil stalks toward me. I could run, but that won’t stop him. No, I need to do something about his weapons.

He strikes in a relentless rush. I block every strike with my blades as I retreat, each blow dulling their edges.

Then Evie screams.

My pulse spikes. I whirl around, searching the crowd. Where is she? Brandur was supposed to watch over her! Where is⁠—

Steel gleams in a merciless arc. Gashil grins.

No dodge will save me. Desperation claws through my ribs, squeezing my heart, heating my blood. I can’t fail. I can’t let Evie die. I can’t let that sword cut through me.

My magic thrums in answer, and the blade crumples just before it strikes my chest.

The twisted metal knocks the wind out of me. I stumble back, staring at Gashil’s ruined steel sword. I did that?

I did that.

Gashil’s eyes glint with a scowl as he throws the sword aside. Anger radiates from every step as he approaches, a promise that I won’t get away so easily again.

Retreating, I risk a quick look at my surroundings. Blades clash, people cry, and others bark out orders in a deafening cacophony. The stench of blood is overpowering. Evie is nowhere in sight.

Of course she’s not. Gashil was messing with my head.

He pulls his arm back. I prepare to untether his second sword. Then his body pivots, and his fist lashes out instead. His iron gauntlet slams into my collarbone. The pain is instant, cracking through me like shattering porcelain.

I gasp, sinking onto one knee.

He kicks my ribs. He jabs up my jaw, snapping my head back. Blood coats my tongue as I fall to the ground, curling in on myself.

I fling my blades at him, but he deflects them with his bracer. As he stands over me, I know I can’t lift a hand to stop him. This is it. This is how I die.

Gashil grabs me and lifts me up. My bare feet swing helplessly as his armored fingers dig into my neck, cutting off my air. I stare up at the painted ceiling, darkness edging my vision. My pulse throbs in my throat as my consciousness fades.