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She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the sounds of fighting as she imagined the flames surging through her body and dancing around her neck. Imagined them attacking the icy noose, melting it, cracking it. Heat surged up to her throat, and the sweat dripping from her forehead became a river. But the ice splintered, just as she’d imagined, and suddenly her head and arms were free.
She twisted around, trying to see what was going on. Jon and Eleanor were silhouetted against the brightness of the flames. Jon was on his back, struggling to hold the panther standing astride his prone body at arm’s length. Blood soaked his jeans, and a bloody rent marred his left side. The panther was unharmed, toying with its prey.
She clenched her hands against the instinct to attack Eleanor with her fire and quickly scanned the trees above. After a moment, she spotted a branch that hung far enough over the clearing. Half closing her eyes, she stared at the limb and reached down to the fires boiling through her body, imagining them looping through her flesh, then spinning out into the darkness toward that branch. The response was quick and deadly. The branch exploded into flame and, with a crack that ricocheted through the clearing, fell to the ground. The cat snarled in fright and leapt away from Jon. He scrambled awkwardly to his feet but didn’t flee.
“Maddie, run!” he gasped. He stood between her and the panther, a bloodied warrior still ready for battle.
She could barely move, let alone run. And even if she were able to, she wouldn’t have. He was ready to die defending her. She had nothing left to offer him but the same willingness to trade her life for his.
She glanced quickly at the trees and found another branch. The panther leaped again. Maddie looped her fire through her body, then aimed it at another branch, simultaneously croaking, “Jon, jump back!”
He heard and obeyed. The branch landed in a heap at his feet, trailing flaming leaves like confetti. The smell of burning pine was sharp in the air. The panther twisted away awkwardly and landed to one side of the stump. Its form shivered and darkened, then became Eleanor once more.
“My bait is awake, I see.” Eleanor’s voice was still a seductive drawl, despite the wisp of age beginning to take its toll on her features.
Maddie met her dark gaze and felt as if she were falling deep into its malevolent depths. It surrounded her, sapping her strength, her will. Eleanor was the essence of evil—a woman who had feasted on the blood of innocents down through the ages simply to preserve her looks and her life. They were fools to think they could ever beat her.
Once again, Jon moved until he stood between them and Maddie blinked, feeling like a sleeper coming out of a dream. Fear surged anew. Just for an instant, she’d been drawn into Eleanor’s mind and had glimpsed the dark depths of her soul. It might well have been hell’s playground.
“Let her go, Eleanor.”
Jon’s voice was flat, devoid of any sort of emotion, yet Maddie could see his fear as sharply as she could taste her own. It was evident in the tightening of his shoulders, in the play of muscles across his back. But he was frightened for her, not for himself.
Eleanor smiled. “I know, I know. She means nothing to you.”
Jon didn’t reply. His fingers flexed and Maddie suddenly wondered why he didn’t change into a hawk. His attack on Hank had shown how deadly his other shape could be. Why didn’t he use it now that Eleanor was back in human guise?
“I’m afraid you’re missing the point, my boy. I don’t want you dead. I want you suffering, then dead.”
Jon’s back blocked most of Eleanor from Maddie’s sight, but her evil reached out nevertheless, swirling ice around her. The cord whipped back around her throat, pulling tight. Pain eddied and hovered close, and darkness was suddenly only a heartbeat away.
“I’ve already taken your soul,” Eleanor continued, her voice venomous. “Next I’ll take your heart, and then finally your life.”
I’ve taken your soul … Was it only last night that Jon had said his soul was a hawk? Was that why he didn’t shift shape? But how could Eleanor rip such a vital part of his being away from him?
The thought fled as the ice around her neck pulled tighter. Stars danced before her eyes, and every breath suddenly became a battle for survival.
“Do your worst, witch.”
His voice seemed to come from a million miles away, yet it contained a hint of callousness that shook her. Energy ripped through the air, as hot as the fires in her soul. She licked cracked lips and tried to concentrate on his back. His muscles flexed beneath his jacket as he crossed his arms and waited. Why didn’t he do something? Couldn’t he sense the energy building up around them?
Eleanor’s laughter clawed at the air. Flames burst to life around him, bright and surreal. He didn’t move, didn’t fight. All too quickly he was lost to the consuming hunger of the fire.
Panic surged through Maddie. Without thought, she gathered her fire and aimed it at Eleanor. The witch screeched in surprise and pain. A heartbeat later, Maddie screamed in agony as the fire rebounded and consumed her consciousness.
* * *
MADDIE’S SCREAM TORE PAST THE SPELL HOLDING JON CAPTIVE. The bright flames danced frantically around him but never touched him—and yet the amulet hadn’t protected him from everything. Or maybe it just couldn’t handle anything more than one attack at a time. Maddie’s agony knifed through his brain. He was so attuned to her now that he could feel her pain, feel her struggle to breathe, to survive, through every pore in his skin. He tore the dagger from his coat and lunged through the flames at Eleanor. Her form was shifting, merging into that of the panther. She leapt away, but not fast enough. He plunged the white-ash dagger deep into her side, trapping her between human and panther shape.
She screamed and lashed at him. Claws raked across his face and then she was on him, a writhing, screaming amalgam of woman and cat with inhuman strength.
They hit the ground locked together. Eleanor took the impact but didn’t seem to feel it. He grabbed her arms, holding her claws away from his face, but Eleanor bucked and threw him high over her head. He hit the ground with a grunt, scrambling up as the witch launched at him again. Then a gunshot resounded across the silence. Eleanor screamed and twisted in midair, and blood plumed from her arm as the bullet tore through muscle and bone. She landed catlike, howling in agony, then sprang again—not at him, but at Maddie.
Jon threw himself between them, but Eleanor twisted in midair again, somehow avoiding him. He hit the ground near Maddie’s feet and rolled, rising awkwardly. Pain burned up his leg, but he ignored it, spinning to meet Eleanor’s next attack. She was on him in an instant, tearing at his face and his chest, her breath like hot acid. He wrapped his arms around her and held on tight. Needle-sharp fangs tore into his shoulder. Gritting his teeth and hissing in pain, he lifted her off the ground and staggered away from Maddie.
Eleanor screamed in frustration, but it was a high, inhuman sound. She placed her paws against his chest and tore herself out of his arms, leaping away. Two more gunshots cut through the air. Something burned past his ear, drawing blood. Eleanor jerked. Blood and gore sprayed as her body shuddered, then dropped to the ground.
She had to be dead. There was nothing left of her head but a bloody pulp.
