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The saber-tooth snarled.
Fever scoffed. “If that’s supposed to be a response, shift so you can speak in your own defense, you moth-eaten, malformed cat.”
But it was the other, the ummaroc, who changed back into her human form. A powerful shiftling, indeed, to change shape so frequently. Most couldn’t manage the feat more than once or twice a day. Verve searched her memory and recalled the ummaroc’s name was Ellory Echina, who, among her other talents, was adept at giving Verve the most murderous looks.
“This doesn’t concern you, hunter,” Ellory said to Verve in a low, dangerous voice. “Leave now, and we’ll let you live.”
Verve could not help herself. “How’s the neck?”
Ellory’s fingers flew to the angry pink scar that wound almost all the way around her throat. “So you came back to finish the job, then?”
The saber-tooth’s ears flicked and Ellory, who must have known the other shifter well enough to understand them, said, “Aye, she’s one of Atal’s Chosen, a mage killer, and no friend of ours. Or yours,” she added, looking pointedly at the particle mages.
Fever and Door-Smasher exchanged looks, and then they both turned completely to face Verve, whose stomach dropped in warning. “You killed my sister,” Fever whispered, her eyes narrowing.
“Aye, and my brother,” Door-Smasher said through a clenched jaw.
A new flavor of ire pricked Verve’s senses: peppery anger — at her. At the mage killer.
Probably should have seen this coming. The thought sounded a little too snarky — even for Verve. Actually, it sounded like Celidon, whose memories, along with Jocasta’s and Space-Between-Stars’s—could be lost forever if this encounter went sideways. Verve had agreed to help Celidon in his final moments, so she’d been able to take on the Fae spirit, but there was no telling if these mages would make that same choice.
You’re in charge, but it’s not just you behind those eyes any longer, Verve.
Her pulse quickened. She held up her hands and struggled to find her footing among the maelstrom of the mages’ emotions. “I’m Lotis’s protector,” she said. “Your kinsfolk were hurting the village. I had to—”
The saber-tooth roared again, the sound reverberating through Verve’s skull, and the huge cat paced toward her, trying to box her in with the particle mages. The beast didn’t have to speak; her fury toward Verve writhed like maggots. Heat swelled in the air, slinking down Verve’s throat and into her lungs, until she burned from within.
She scrambled backward, groping for her crossbow, but a blast of air threw her on her back and knocked the breath out of her. Coughing, Verve still tried to get away, but the heat thickened. Her silver belt buckle, her daggers, her sodding brass buttons — everything metal on her person began to burn, as if just pulled from a blacksmith’s forge. She shrieked and fumbled for the belt, for she’d die before she cast away her daggers, but then the saber-tooth was before her, screaming its fury. Ellory had shifted again, clawed hands flexing, dagger-like teeth glinting in the rising sun.
Being surrounded by murderous mages was bad, but not impossible to handle. Verve had been in worse situations before, after all.
But their relentless barrage of fury pummeled her spirit and sapped her strength quicker than a full sprint over desert dunes. Her head spun, her heart threatened to beat its way out of her chest, and she could not think how to get away.
Until she remembered Alem, and the wall around his heart he’d built, the wall that kept out her meridian senses, the wall he’d lowered a few times to allow her to peer within.
Heat swelled; her skin burned. Another blast of air lashed her cheek, but she tried to move with the blast rather than fight it. Within her mind, she built a high wall that looked like the side of a Sufani wagon, and then hid her heart behind it. This, she could do. This, Danya had unwittingly trained her for, and while only seconds passed, the mages’ fury receded and Verve’s head cleared. She ducked out of the way of the saber-tooth’s strike, and dove into the palmettos.
Mission failed. I’m sorry, Alem.
The ummaroc screamed a warning to the others as Verve sprang up, crossbow in hand. The hematite smelted with the steel kept the metal from magical heating. Verve aimed at Door-Smasher’s stunned face and pulled the trigger. The bolt landed with a thunk right between their eyes, and Verve had another bolt loaded by the time the ground shuddered beneath the mage’s impact.
She aimed at Fever, who threw up her hands. “Please,” the mage cried. “I’ll leave, I prom—”
The second and third bolts struck her with enough force to send her stumbling back, where she landed and did not move again.
Two mages down. The air cooled, the fury retreated into desperation as Ellory and the saber-tooth lion circled Verve, fearful but still determined.
Well, they weren’t the only ones. Verve’s fear beat like a drum in her mind, demanding action. But long years of training helped her think through her terror, and somewhere in the back of her mind, Space-Between-Stars’s approval echoed like a struck gong.
Use the fear, Space-Between-Stars urged. Gather it close, then release. I’ll help.
Was that… possible? If so, Verve had enough fear to take down an army. Oh, now you want me to live? she couldn’t help but snark.
Humor flickered in Space-Between-Stars’s presence. Good point. Perhaps I should let you fall, and take over one of these lovely mages.
Nice try, Verve shot back, letting her amusement color her words. But I’m not done for yet.
Breath short, Verve focused on the knots of fear in her belly. In her mind’s eye, the emotion was a gray smoke, a haze that clouded her vision. But smoke could be cleared. With Space-Between-Stars’s support, Verve concentrated, then projected her fear toward the saber-tooth, like an emotional crossbow bolt. The creature cried out, a high-pitched keen, and turned to run. Verve gave her three paces, then pulled the trigger on her crossbow, and the shiftling collapsed into a sour-faced woman.
Three mages down. Verve turned to the ummaroc, who foolishly had not fled. Just the two of them now. Ellory’s fear spiked, white hot, but the creature didn’t move. Verve loaded another bolt and aimed for the scar at her neck.
The ummaroc’s eyes were bright green, wide, and her heart hung on its hinges, leaving her spirit open for inspection. Within, that same fear roared, thundering.
Fear and loneliness, and a desperation born of the two. Verve looked into Ellory’s soul and saw her own reflected. For one moment, she seemed to float over her body; she saw the two of them facing off amidst trampled leaves, blood, scorched earth. They were two sides of the same coin. No, they were the same side of different coins, and Verve’s determination to end this mage’s life crumbled. Her crossbow felt leaden, like her bones, and it took all of her strength not to collapse.
“Leave, now,” Verve heard herself say. “I have no quarrel with you personally, but you can’t stay here.”
Ellory’s desperation stank like sour milk, but the shiftling turned and darted off through the palmettos, her steps silent.
And Verve stood alone again, surrounded by deaths of her own doing, and an answering regret echoed in her own heart. The crossbow slipped from her hands as she sank to her knees, and it was hours before she summoned the strength to return to Lotis.
