Nero snarls above us. I see a flash of his fangs, and I feel a stray claw of his accidentally tear at my flesh as he mauls the creature between us. I grunt at the wave of pain that comes a moment later.
Damn the gods, Empress, USE MY POWER! IT IS YOURS! Memnon roars.
My pain and panic and those compelling words are enough to call forth another wave of power.
I don’t mean to let my magic make use of my blood; it’s simply that my attention drifts briefly to my newest wound, and the magic follows. Once there, my magic feasts.
My power comes alive like never before. I didn’t know it could feel like this—like a live wire. It’s burgeoning more and more as my blood dissolves.
I gather it in my palms and move my hands to the monster’s chest. Its own hold is still fast around my neck, despite Nero’s attack.
For an instant, I move into Nero’s head.
Move away. Now, I command him.
I shift back into my own head as my panther hops off the creature, then prowls back to the girl.
Black spots obscure my vision, but I wait until my magic has finished devouring my blood. I know that’s forbidden magic; I know that tomorrow I’ll be sorry I used it.
But tonight, I have no remorse.
I stare into those empty eyes, and I speak a single word. “Annihilate.”
My power detonates.
The creature blasts into the air, its body shattering as it’s thrown across the forest. My spell continues, the last of it hitting a tree and cracking it apart.
Then the woods fall silent, so painfully silent.
There is my queen. Memnon’s words seem to echo in the silence, though I know I’m only hearing them in my head.
I take a deep breath of air, then cough, my throat raw. Nero comes over to me, rubbing his head and then his body against my face.
I force myself to my feet, though my body feels incapable of holding me up. I stumble over to where I saw the creature’s remains fall.
When I get to where I think it landed, I whisper “illuminate” into my hand.
A weak orb of light bursts forth, the light from it flickering. I blow it off my palm, watching it float over the ground.
I draw in a breath when I see dozens and dozens of clay shards. I lift one of the larger pieces, one that resembles a finger. The inside of it is hollow. There’s no muscle, no bone, no blood. The thing that almost killed me literally shattered like a broken pot. Still, several feet away, its head and one of its shoulders lie mostly intact.
As I walk up to it, it hisses, snapping its teeth at me.
Yeah, not today, Frankenstein.
I lift my bare foot, then slam it down on its face, grimacing as the sharp, jagged edges of its head cut into my skin.
What’s one more injury at this point?
I draw my foot back and bash it in again. And again.
Somewhere along the way, I begin to scream my rage, and I think I may be crying, and I don’t care. I don’t care because my body feels like this is the last bit of energy I have.
I pulverize the creature’s face until nothing remains.
And then I limp my way back to the girl.
I still don’t know her name.
I want to laugh. We both nearly died three times over, yet I don’t know her name, and she knows even less about me.
Then I do laugh, and I think I’m still crying.
I’m losing it. I know I am.
I bend to pick her up, and it’s not going to happen, my muscles are too tired, my body too spent.
Still, I manage to scrape together enough of Memnon’s power to lend me the needed strength.
I haul the girl into my arms and stumble toward the boundary separating witch from lycanthrope territory. With a final lunge, I cross the line.
I fall to my knees on the other side of it, Nero next to me.
My arms loosen, and the girl slides out of them.
And then I pass out.
CHAPTER 29
I am cloaked in darkness, my mind wrapped in it like a blanket. It only pulls back slightly when I hear a low warning growl from Nero, who’s curled against my side.
I fight my way back to consciousness, rousing only enough to lift my hand in additional warning to whoever is approaching.
My eyes meet the brown eyes of a wolf. As soon as I see it, I drop my hand.
Not a witch.
In the back of my mind, I note the irony that even bloody and weak, I feel safer right now in the presence of a predator than I do a witch.
“It’s okay, Nero,” I whisper.
My familiar quiets, though he’s tense behind me.
The wolf paces forward, and if it’s interested in eating me, I’m F-U-C-K-E-D because I’m not moving. I don’t think I could even if I tried.