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“Oh, dear child, I do not need my demons to inflict pain on one such as you.”
And with that, he hit us. Not physically. Magically. It knocked us off our feet and tossed us across the warehouse, until we smashed into the boxes and pallets with enough force to shatter. Splinters speared our flesh in multiple places, and pain rose, a battering wave that was once again dialed down by Belle. Talons scraped against concrete, and the sensation of evil grew so thick, we could barely breathe. We looked up, saw the twisted shadow arrowing toward us, and threw ourselves sideways.
One claw caught our coat, shredding it, cutting skin. We screamed but reached back, grabbed the knife, and twisted around. The demon lunged at us; we swept the blade from left to right, severing its snout. Blood gushed as its body hit us, the remains of its mouth tearing uselessly at our flesh. We lifted our knees and tossed it off us. As it flew over our head, we raised the knife and gutted it from neck to groin.
It crashed to the concrete and didn’t move.
We gripped the bloodied blade tighter and pushed to our feet.
The wraith didn’t attack. His rats did. They were a wave of furry fury that bit and tore at us, climbing our clothes, tangling their bodies in our hair, biting at our neck and our chin.
We knocked them away, but there was an unending wave of the bastards, all intent on eating us alive. Fury rose. Mine, not Cat’s. It was unrestrained and uncontrollable, and it burned through every pore in my body. The rats leapt from us and skittered away.
The wraith laughed, the sound victorious. The black mass within stirred anew, and an odd sensation ran through our body.
The mass we’d contained but not erased was leeching—feeding—on that inner power.
This was what he had intended. What he had needed.
The wild magic.
And I’d just given him a direct line into the well that lay inside me.
But I was not alone, and his feeding frenzy had made him vulnerable.
We ran, with every ounce of speed we had, straight at the bastard. He didn’t see us, didn’t hear us. His eyes were closed, his expression one of rapture as he drained the wild energy from our veins, our body.
We opened the holy water, raised our arm, and flung it at his face. It burned through the protective shield around his body and splashed across skin that hung in rotting strips and eye sockets that were empty and soulless. He screamed, a high-pitched sound full of pain and fury.
He smashed one bony arm across our body, briefly knocking us back. We caught our balance but didn’t close in.
It was then Cat took control. Her magic rose, a wave as strong and as powerful as anything I’d ever felt before. It tore apart the remnants of the wraith’s protective barriers and pinned him in place, pulverizing his quick attempt to counter.
Footsteps, behind us.
Humans. Three of them, running straight at us from God knew where.
Belle’s telepathy surged, and the footsteps stopped. But our brain felt as if it were on fire, and our body trembled. We needed to end this, quickly.
“As you lived in the shadows, wraith, so shall you die by them,” Cat said, and began a secondary spell. One that felt old, dark, and extremely dangerous. But it wasn’t so much magic as a demand, and it called to those who lived in shadows and nightmares.
Within seconds, they answered.
Creatures appeared, creatures that were malformed and diaphanous, moving cautiously at first and then with growing confidence as they scented the offering.
They surrounded the wraith, tore at him, eating his rags, his flesh, and his bones, while he writhed and screamed and fought uselessly against Cat’s magic.
When there was little more left than spirit, they consumed that, each creature taking a tiny piece of him, ensuring that he could never be raised, never be whole. Ever again.
Then they left, leaving the only visible evidence of his presence an ugly smear of black on the concrete.
We collapsed onto our knees. Our head burned, and suddenly we couldn’t get enough air into our lungs. Belle retreated, but kept enough contact to keep the pain at bay. We needed that. Badly.
We succeeded, Cat said softly. Wearily. And now I must go.
What about Dad?
He survives, though not without cost.
