Page 53 of Ring of Ruin


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Not in human form, anyway.

As the night-dark feathered form arrowed in, I swung the poker hard. And missed.

The momentum behind the blow was enough to spin me around and throw me off balance. A second later, something thumped into my back and sent me flying.

Somehow, I managed to keep hold of my weapon as I flailed the other arm to keep upright. The shifter was on my back, tearing at my clothes and skin with talons and a needle-sharp beak that dug into my neck and shoulders. I swore and reached back with one hand, trying to wrench it free, only to get bitten hard enough to draw blood. It shifted shape, wrapped an arm around my neck, and then hit me in the solar plexus hard. As my gut spasmed and pain rolled through me, the arm disappeared, and the needle-beak was pecking at my neck again.

I tried to swear; couldn’t. Couldn’t even breathe really. But I nevertheless threw myself back, trying to crush the shifter against the wall. At the very last minute, it flew upward, out of the way.

I swung the poker again, and this time, it scraped across the shifter’s underbelly, sending black feathers flying and drawing blood. It flew high into the rafters, dripping blood as it circled around, and then snapped its wings closed and arrowed down. I hefted the poker and waited.

At the last possible moment, it flicked a wing, changed direction, and went for the skylight.

“Oh no, you don’t, you bastard.”

I lunged forward, grabbed the dangling cord, and yanked the skylight down. The crowbar prevented it from fully closing but it didn’t matter. The shifter crashed into the glass hard enough to crack it then fell in a heap onto the floor.

Its form shimmered, rolling back from bird to human form, revealing a small, thinnish woman with hair that initially looked black but had a shimmer of purple and green when she moved. A common starling rather than a blackbird shifter.

I pressed the poker against her stomach. “Move, and I’ll fucking break both your arms.”

She stared at me, her eyes glazed and sweat popping out across her forehead. Shock, I thought, which was no real surprise given she’d crashed into the glass hard enough to not only mash her nose, but also split her mouth open.

I warily stepped closer and then, when she made no move to attack, bent and gripped her hand. She automatically tried to pull free, but I held on tight.

I called to the pixie controlling magic and said, “You will answer all my questions honestly and you will not move until I tell you to. Understood?”

She licked bloody lips and nodded. Her gaze was unfocused, suggesting if I didn’t hurry up, she’d be unconscious.

“Why were you sent here?”

“I was to question you about the location of the Eye and relieve you of it if it was here.”

“How were you meant to question me?” Few shifters were telepaths, so she couldn’t have read my mind. Even fewer were magic capable. “As shifters go, you’re on the small side, and unlikely to overwhelm me physically.”

Although she almost had.

“I was supposed to fly in and dart you once you’d gone to bed.”

Which meant whoever had told her about the broken skylight latch didn’t truly understand the deep connection pixies had with manufactured wood. No matter how easily she had entered the loft, she couldn’t release the ladder without attaining human form, and her sudden weight on the floorboards would have altered their song enough to alert me.

“Then why use the gas?”

“I didn’t.”

“No, but your friend downstairs did.”

“I have no friend. It was a solo contract.”

Then who the fuck was the mage downstairs? Hopefully, Sgott’s men had caught the bastard. The knives were no longer reacting, and the wood song was a confused mess right now thanks to the number of people down there, and while I could sort it out, it would take deeper immersion, and I simply didn’t have the time. Or the inclination, to be honest. Either he’d been caught, had concealed himself, or scarpered, and no matter what option he’d chosen, Sgott’s men were more than capable of dealing with it.

I returned my attention to my prisoner.

“Who gave you the contract?”

“Kaitlyn.”

Which meant either the stupid bitch obviouslyhadn’ttaken the warning to broker no contracts involving me or Lugh to heart or the payment terms were simply too high for her to ignore. Either way, she needed to be dealt with ASAP. As much as I’d have loved to have been personally involved in that, she was half elf, and therefore immune to my controlling magic.

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