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“Conor will kill you,” she breathed around the mounting panic.
“He can try.” Simon leered toward her, his expression ugly in its victory. Long scratch-marks striped his face, and an angry blotch stained his left cheek. “You’re treed, my girl.”
She swallowed, the dagger digging into her skin. Her breath caught at the sting of pain that followed. “Perhaps.” She found enough courage to smile. “But then, so are you.”
She screamed.
Conor set his shoulder to the door, hurling it back against the wall even as he spoke the words that would bind Simon. Hold him fast.
The scene was one of a hard-fought struggle. Discarded bedclothes, an overturned table, a lamp lying amid the shards of a broken pitcher and basin. Ellery was backed into a corner, a scream dying on her lips, a thin beading of blood across her neck where Simon’s blade had pierced it.
Simon fought to move, and a puzzled frown crossed his features.
Conor held out a hand. “Ellery. Come away. He can’t harm you.”
Before she could slip out of his grip, Simon laughed. “Is this the power Asher fears will undo him? Let me show the girl what real power is.”
He closed his eyes, began to whisper.
Razor pains sliced through Conor’s body, down his legs, out his arms. He jerked back, barely holding onto his sword. Each second brought a new pulse of the knifing agony. Through his gut. Slashing his heart. Tearing at his muscles. As if his body were being scythed from the inside out.
He dropped to his knees, trying not to cry out. He struggled to break the spell’s hold, but Simon’s curse smothered his attempt as easily as a breeze snuffs out a candle’s flame.
Ellery struggled. “Stop it. You’re killing him.” Simon slapped her. She staggered then steadied herself, her face cut by Simon’s wolf-head ring.
“I should thank you,” Simon said. “Cloaking my magic was more difficult than I’d imagined. But no more hiding. No more daggers in the dark.”
Lights burst across Conor’s vision. His head felt as if a vise were crushing it. Was this inhuman power Simon’s reward for turning Ysbel over to Asher?
Just before he lost consciousness, Conor relaxed into the spell, allowing it to wash over him, through him. Then with a discipline honed over years of training, he focused his energy, shut his emotions down to let the fey in him take over. The pain subsided. The fear and rage and panic dissipated as the power moved through him.
All his attention on Conor, Simon never saw Ellery’s elbow until it rammed into his stomach with a wind-knocking blow.
He doubled over with a shocked whoof of spent breath, his concentration broken.
The curse’s final release ripped like a blade through Conor, but he was free of it. He got to his feet. “Get out,” he gasped.
Ellery scrambled from behind Simon and dashed out of reach, disappearing out the door.
Thank God, she was safe. Conor saw in his mind’s eye the thin red line across her neck, and his renewed rage filled the emptiness. Flowed over.
“Does your taste in murder run only to defenseless women?” he growled. “You should try your new talents on someone your own size.”
Simon straightened, his dagger still gripped and drawn. “I did. And I almost succeeded, amhas-draoi.” He spat the word like an obscenity. The demon magic swirled around him like a protective shield.
Asher’s wards were too strong for Conor to defeat Simon that way. And now that Conor was prepared, Simon was equally defenseless. Magic would not win this war between them.
“Fight me on your own. Without Asher’s help,” Conor challenged. “If you dare.”
“I’m no”—Simon lunged with the dagger—“fool.” Conor easily deflected the blow. Stepping into the attack, he tasted victory and vengeance. His sight narrowed to the space between them, the clash of steel.
“Savage.” The shrieks behind him stayed his hand. “Killer.” He wheeled on the ball of his foot, his fury coloring everything around him. Only his Heller reflexes sent the blade whistling past this new intruder instead of cleaving her in two.
“Satan’s child,” Glynnis screamed, her face warped with madness. “You’ll not kill my son as you killed the others. I’ll send you to hell myself before I let it happen.”
She held a pistol pointed at his chest. “Mother,” Simon gushed. “Your timing is perfect.” He stabbed out and up, aiming for Conor’s lungs.
Conor wrenched himself sideways, the dagger burning a path across his side. At the same instant, Glynnis screamed and fired. The bullet’s impact slammed him to the floor. Smoke blossomed around him, the report ringing in his ears.
