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Grace watched me pull out my phone. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“We need to get his armor off.”
“With your phone?” She gave me a dubious look.
“Yes.” I navigated to the app Bella had made me. “Ok, here goes nothing!” I tapped the screen to unlock the fiend’s armor.
Nothing happened.
I tapped the screen again. “Come on, come on.”
The fiend continued stomping toward us.
“This guy’s armor must be different than Bella’s.” I grabbed Grace’s hand, pulling her away from the toppled bed moments before the fiend blew it up.
The magic shockwave threw us across the room. I heard at least five things crack when I hit the wall. Hopefully, I hadn’t broken anything important. Grace had been hurled even further, through the open door, into the bathroom. She clawed herself out of the deep bathtub. The fiend’s head pivoted toward her, the movement so mechanical, so dispassionate.
He marched toward Grace, but Nero cut him off. He jumped onto the fiend’s shoulders, locked his arms around the helmet, and heaved. He heaved and he heaved and he popped the helmet off, revealing the enemy beneath.
“Stash?” I froze when I saw my cousin’s face.
Stash took advantage of my shock. He swept his arm toward me like a blade on a wind turbine, knocking me across the room. Again.
I scrambled to my feet, meeting Stash’s blank stare. He was not himself. His dark brown hair had gone even darker. It was blacker than black. Just like Bella’s hair turned white when she was acting under the curse’s power.
Stash was cursed too. Zarion had turned his own son into a weapon.
Grabbing a thick curtain rope off the ground, I staggered toward him. He tried to punch me, but I beat him back with the heavy, knotted end of the rope.
Smack!
I whacked his hand.
Thump!
I snapped the rope against his other hand.
Whomp!
I bounced the thick knot off his head.
I wound up the rope for another strike, but Stash leaned in, catching the rope around his forearm. He kicked me back, at the same time stealing my rope. A white blaze lit up the braided fibers. He whipped it at Grace.
I jumped in the way. The rope wrapped around my torso several times, pinning my arms to my sides, burning that white fire into my skin. But it was a good fire. An empowering fire. Nectar didn’t kill me. Like Venom, it only made me stronger.
“You should not have done that,” I told Stash. I pushed against the rope, and it dissolved into smoke.
He drew his sword.
And then he just stopped. His eyes panned down to the glowing cuffs around his wrists. He blinked in confusion.
“Well, it looks like the cuffs work,” Damiel commented, waving his hand.
A cage of thorns shot out of the ground and engulfed Stash.
“Magic-neutralizing cuffs.” Grace peered through the thorny cage at Stash. “An immortal artifact?”
“Yes,” Damiel told her. “But don’t get too excited. Demons can’t use them.” He eyed Faris. “Or gods either.”
