Page 105 of Hybrid Heroics

Before the evening sun went down, I would sign his warrant of death. Even if I had to sign my own to see it through.

Because this was about so much more than me and my path.

Alric had shifted the world for his desires, rocked the seven realms in ways none of us fully comprehended.

Before I could stop myself, I was making a promise. “You are going to feel all the pain that you’ve inflicted. And if you don’t feel it, your soul will.”

“There is nothing you can do to me, Little King. I will bounce back every time. Draining all that power served several purposes, but as you’ve said, I’ve got more than I know what to do with. So I’m going to use it on you.”

I tipped my head. “Ready when you are.”

He threw a flurry of attacks, from raw magic to elemental powers and a few things I’d not seen before. His skin glowed with the abuse, eyes sparking unnaturally.

Again, I didn’t move.

He claimed to know so much about me, but he knew nothing of the person I was tonight.

I was neither demon nor angel. Not wolf or vampire or mage.

The weight of his attacks bore down on me, smothering yet warm. They sucked the air from my lungs, the water from my skin. My arms blistered. The flesh of my fingers peeled back, exposing muscle and bone.

My body screamed, but no sound slipped from my parted lips.

I observed him through the hazy cloud of drunken overindulgence.

Pain and fear swam freely in my stomach, making me feel lightheaded from the rush. As my skin healed, the excess magic tickled my nerve endings, seeping into me like a bone-deep cringe.

I didn’t stop him.

Because I didn’t have to.

It was a sad fact that he couldn’t see, too blinded by his own hatred and agenda.

I possessed none of that tonight.

There was no agenda. Only a plan to keep everyone on my board alive.

There was no hate. Only pity and disappointment for the man he could have been. Only anger for the things he stole that weren’t his to take.

And soon there would be boredom.

But I felt nothing beyond that.

Except the eerie calm that would allow me to methodologically pull him apart.

“It’s not working,” someone shouted, panicked and angry.

Not a voice I recognized.

The attack stopped, and I smiled at Alric, my eyes bleeding black as my voice echoed. “What’s not working? This?”

“He lied to you,” Alric snarled at the man—the angel—before whipping his attention back to me. “You have them.”

“I have lots of things. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“You have the pages from the angelic tomes. You replaced them with fakes.”

I didn’t let my features change, though his accusation was news to me. Alric didn’t have the only thing in all the realms that could allegedly kill me, but I didn’t have it either.