by Kat Colmer
I gritted my teeth at the wave of rage gathering inside me. He wasn’t touching Cora. Ever. The only thing keeping me from slicing the vile expression off his plastic face with the blade in my hands was the knowledge that I’d never get close enough to him to do so. Not yet, anyway.
“That’s not going to happen,” I bit out through clenched teeth.
“Oh, but it is. And there isn’t a thing you can do about it.” He cocked his head again, this time to the other side, then let his gaze drop dramatically to the Book of Threads on the desk flanked by his splayed hands. “Ah, quite right. There is one thing you can do about it.” He lifted his dark head and looked me in the eyes. “So what are you waiting for, Mr. Leander?” He glanced at the khopesh in my hands. A frisson of fear broke through my anger and brushed up and over my skull. It wasn’t his words so much, but rather the calm, conversational tone of his voice that made me take notice. “Make your cut nice and deep.”
Make your cut— He knew! He knew I was going to relinquish my Protection Charm to get to the book. And the feral smirk on his face made me think he almost…looked forward to it. My hands grew clammy around the sword’s hilt despite the freezing temperature of the study. Why the hell would he look forward to it when I had possession of the one thing that could kill him?
“You look confused, Mr. Leander.” As Elymas straightened, he picked up the khopesh off his desk and held it effortlessly in one hand. Someone shifted in the shadows. Most likely Clay, itching to start the bloodletting.
Lips set in an infuriating self-assured snarl, Elymas slowly rounded to the front of the desk. I took a step back and, one by one, wiped my sweaty hands on my pants, then tightened my hold on the Sword of Absolom. “I don’t see what you have to smile about when I’m holding your one-way ticket back to hell.”
He flashed toothpaste commercial teeth. “Ah, Jonas—you don’t mind if I call you Jonas, do you?—let me enlighten you.” With a wave of his long-fingered hand, the flames in the fireplace leaped higher. My breath faltered when several orange-tipped tongues broke free and licked along the walls, setting a dozen or so torches alight, flooding the library in bright ochre.
“You see, I’m confident that, even in my mortal form, my strength is greater than yours. Because unlike you, my judgment isn’t clouded by that most pathetic of all emotions you call love.” He sneered the word, his contempt echoing around the room. “It’s a chimera, your human love. Nothing more than a cruel deception, an illusion.” His expression turned predatory. “It’s already fooled you, led you here alone, without her. Which is exactly how I wanted it.”
Behind me, Leo groaned, a wounded animal kind of sound. Elymas ignored him. So did Baptiste and Clay.
Confusion, and a creeping wariness, pulled at my brows. “Why?”
Elymas made a show of sliding the blade of his sickle sword between thumb and forefinger. “Because with the surprisingly skilled Cora by your side, you actually had a chance at success. Together you might just have posed a threat to me. But alone, at worst, you’re nothing more than an interesting diversion, and at best, a satisfying way to extinguish another arm of the Guardian Line.” He smirked and took a step forward.
I fought the urge to step back. Together. She’d been trying to tell me. We were stronger together, but I’d been too pigheaded to listen. Elymas’s eagerness for me to relinquish my Protection Charm poured doubt on my decision to do this without her. He was convinced he could best me, even without the advantage of his supernatural power. Suddenly his intent was clear: only one of us was walking out of this marble tomb alive tonight, and if Elymas had his way, it wouldn’t be me. A chill descended over me, so cold it made the hairs on my arms brittle.
Deep, rapid breaths at my shoulder reminded me I wasn’t alone. Leo was here. Which was as good as being here alone. I wanted to turn and tell him to get out if he saw a chance, but I didn’t want to draw attention to him. So far Elymas and his demon cronies had ignored Leo completely. With any luck they’d continue to do so.
“We’re wasting time, Guardian. Make your blood flow. Or do you need a reminder of what I’ll do to the lovely Cora next time I see her?” Elymas didn’t wait for an answer. He arced his hand through the air and sent me flying into the lectern. Pain raced up my side. My eyes watered. Darkness crowded the edges of my vision as I crumpled to the stone floor. The only sign that Elymas felt any of my pain was a tightening of his jaw.
Fuck. I stood no chance against him like this.
“I ask you again: would you die for her? Or have you come to your senses and decided to leave her to her rightful fate? All you have to do is hand over what is mine.” He eyed the Sword of Absolom still in my grip. “Go on, Guardian, make your choice.”
Choice. You can risk love and allow it to change you for the better or harden you to become bitter and vengeful. Face-to-face with Elymas, my choice was suddenly as clear as the centuries-old vengeful bitterness in his violet eyes.
A wave of certainty flooded me, so powerful it drowned my fear. I heaved myself up off the floor and faced him.
“I’d rather die.”
He smirked. “And therein lies your weakness.”
“No, therein lies my strength.” And as I spoke the words, I knew they were true. Aunt Helena was right—my love for Cora wasn’t a weakness; it was a strength. It empowered me to step outside myself, outside my own fears. It put her first, smack in the middle of my circle of importance where she belonged, where she’d always been, even though I’d refused to see it.
With the realization came calmness. Resolution flowed through my veins: I was ending this tonight. If I didn’t manage to tear my page from the Book of Threads, then I’d die trying. Either way, the curse would be broken and Cora would be safe.
And in the end, that was all that mattered.
Without another thought I lifted the Sword of Absolom and sliced its blade along my forearm. The cut stung. Warmth snaked along my skin as blood trickled down my arm.
Elymas watched it drip onto the pale marble floor. When he lifted his eyes back up to mine, they were filled with purple menace.
Then he lunged.
The blade of his khopesh slammed down hard on mine, the force of it jarring all the way up my arms and into my skull. He swung again, using both hands, his strength brutal. I ducked, and his blade hit the lectern behind me with a dull thud, catching in the wood. Seeing my chance, I aimed my sword for his unprotected side. He was too fast. He’d freed his khopesh and leaped out of the way, my blade slicing only his silk shirt.
Elymas glanced down at the gaping purple fabric. “First the window, now this.” He sneered his contempt at me. “You have no respect for other people’s property, Guardian.” With ruthless determination in his pinprick eyes, he charged again.
This time I was ready for the bone splitting jolt. His blade bit into mine. My teeth rattled, but I held firm.
The bastard’s strong. Even in human form.
Now I understood his eagerness for me to give up my Protection Charm. Suddenly my chances of surviving this didn’t look that great. I had no time to dwell on the morbid thought.
His blade swished. I parried. The moment our weapons collided, he swung again, too fast for me to find an opening. Blades clashing, he forced me across the marble floor, my limbs straining against his blows.
Heat pulsed against my back—Elymas had backed me up against the fireplace. Flames licked my calves. Another step and I’d be toast. The lack of space meant I couldn’t take a decent swing while he kept at me, his blade powered by brutal downward thrusts. Heart thumping with exertion—and maybe with a bit of panic—I looked around for a way out. There was none. Only Elymas’s blade in front of me and the burn of the fireplace at my back.
A vicious downward slash of his blade unbalanced me and—shit! I had to move or step into the fire. I grappled for the mantelpiece, somehow managed to grab hold without
dropping my sword, and twisted away from the flames. Elymas’s khopesh met the marble with a jaw-rattling clang in exactly the spot my head had been. Bloody hell.
He only took a second to recover from the jolt. That was all I needed to grab the side of the mantelpiece and swing out with a high kick to the demon’s head. He stumbled, narrowly missing a face plant into the flames.
I took off for the table—but instead smacked the cold stone floor when Elymas grabbed my ankle. I thrashed and twisted out of his grip and scrambled to my feet. But the demon was also back to standing. Back to slashing his blade at me.
“You’re making me work for your death, Guardian.” Slash-clang. Slash-clang. “But I enjoy a challenge. And I’m not altogether surprised…” Slash, slash-clang. “Your kin have always proven hard to kill.” Slash-clang—
What? Did he mean my mother?
Elymas’s next strike aimed high. I ducked, rolled on the floor, and swiped low, nicking his thigh, before jumping back up onto my feet.
Nostrils flaring, he glanced at the small gash then back up at me.
“Did you kill her? Did you kill my mother?”
The demon’s face flashed briefly with a smile. “Ah, Caroline. Collateral damage. The Guardian’s instructions were to end your father, but he wasn’t in the car like he should have been.”
My father? He sent a failed Guardian to kill my father?
“Why?” It didn’t make sense, not when Dad had already made his choice and produced kids.
“Your numbers were dwindling too slow for my liking. I needed to hasten them along.”
Suddenly Elymas lunged with renewed energy. I blocked and countered with a kick to his hip that should have sent him on his ass, but all he did was stumble back a step. The man was a brick. Or I was tiring, because the khopesh grew heavier in my grasp with each of his blows, and at this rate it wouldn’t be long before I couldn’t—
Fuck!
Fire lanced along my right shoulder as his blade sliced deep into my flesh, possibly bone. My legs buckled. I tripped, landing hard on one knee.
The expression on his face bordered on ecstatic. The bastard was feeding off my agony. “And now I’ll have you to add to the body count.” Khopesh lifted above his head in readiness for a lethal blow, Elymas charged.
Fear reared its useless head once my brain managed to focus on something other than the blaze in my shoulder. I refused to let it win. Instead I shoved it down and used the searing fire to fuel my anger, my resolve to finish him. For Mom. For Cora.
My chance came with a streak of white bandage beneath the gaping fabric of Elymas’s shirt. I rolled just as his khopesh slashed next to my head, so close the rush of air fanned my temple. My heart stopped, then hammered double-time.
Too close.
Elymas’s copper blade struck marble a moment before my foot rammed his bandaged side. He hissed, swayed on his feet, but remained upright. Still, it bought me enough time to scramble up.
I swung my blade. It met its mark, slicing deep into the back of his thigh. He screamed, more in outrage than pain. Didn’t matter; I now had the upper hand. Summoning all my strength, I advanced on him before he could get the better of me.
Strike by strike, I forced his retreat. Each blow of my blade ignited new agony in my shoulder, sending a fresh gush of crimson warmth down my already blood-smeared arm. I ignored the wound, even managed another well-aimed kick to his injured side. He grimaced and faltered. The sight of his blood weeping out from under his bandage spurred me on, gave me hope.
I can do this. I can finish him.
Every muscle and sinew in me strained, but somehow I managed to back him up against his desk. The Book of Threads lay on top, but Baptiste and Clay no longer stood guard behind it.
Where the hell are they?
No doubt they’d been instructed to step in if Elymas needed it. Then again, the arrogant demon bastard had bragged about his ability to kill me himself.
No time to worry about his cronies now. If I wanted at the book I needed to bring Elymas down, and quickly, because even though sweat coated his Ken-doll features, I was tiring faster than him.
My shoulder screamed. It’d bled down my arm so badly the Sword of Absolom’s hilt was slick as grease.
My breath came in rasps, the air cold and metallic.
Concentrate. You need a way around his defenses. What would Cora do?
But no matter what I tried, the Groth Maar demon refused to yield, meeting each of my strikes with a stubborn resolve. Hell, the book is right there. Right there!
Elymas guessed the direction of my thoughts. “You want the book, Guardian? So have it!”
Before I had a chance to react, the demon leaned back. With a jerk of his free arm, he swept the Book of Threads off the desk, catapulting it through the air—right at me.
The corner of the heavy leather-bound tome slammed into my bleeding shoulder. For a heartbeat my vision blanked with the blinding pain of it. The impact forced my arm back, loosening my grip on the khopesh. The sickle sword slipped from my blood-smeared fingers and slid along the floor until it came to a stop right at Leo’s feet.
“Leo!” I ducked, swerved around the side of the desk, narrowly missing Elymas’s swinging blade.
Come on, Leo. Not again!
He was my only hope. Without him I was dead. “Leo! Kick it to me.”
But he didn’t. Eyes downcast under a mess of dark hair, his own khopesh still gripped tightly by his side, he stood immobile in the exact same spot we’d been when Elymas had announced himself. Baptiste and Clay stood either side of him but didn’t touch him.
My frustration boiled over. “For fuck’s sake, Leo!” I dodged another of Elymas’s lethal swings by leaping onto the desk. The sharp blade took a gash out of the wood.
I don’t believe this. I’m going to die because my prick of a so-called friend has no fricking balls.
“He won’t help you.” Elymas swung his khopesh again, this time nicking my side. I bit down on the pain and leaped off the desk, scrambling behind the lectern. “Like your mother’s killer, he has too much invested in your death.”
What the— Elymas’s words turned my limbs to concrete. I’d gripped the lectern, ready to shove it into him, but now I couldn’t move. The rasp of our rapid breathing filled the space between us. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Seeing my sudden stupor, Elymas quickly pointed the curved blade of his weapon near my face, the tip only centimeters away, smeared with my own blood. “Think, Jonas. Who brought you here tonight?”
Confused, I looked across at Leo. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the marble floor.
Leo? I didn’t believe it. He might be a dickless wonder, but he wasn’t that twisted. Elymas was messing with my mind, trying to psych me out.
“You’re lying.”
Still pointing the bloody blade at my face, Elymas smiled, the urgency in him gone, replaced by gleeful malice. “Am I? Or do the two of you have more in common than you think?”
A movement of Elymas’s fingers sent Baptiste rushing to pick up the Book of Threads off the floor. Coming to stand beside his master, Baptiste leafed through the parchment pages until he found what he was looking for.
“Here, see with your own eyes, Guardian.” Elymas motioned for Baptiste to thrust the book forward. Not so close that I might reach it, but close enough for me to see the name written in the center of the page:
Leo Tarsicio
The words were a steel-capped boot to my gut. Winded, I sucked at the icy air but couldn’t breathe. Leo, a Guardian. All this time… Suddenly it all made sense—his aversion to dating, the speed at which his bruises healed after his beating. What didn’t make sense was why he was selling me out to the Groth Maar.
Ignoring the deadly blade near my face, I glared across the room at Leo. “Why?”
This time at least he met my gaze, but he didn’t answer.
Elymas answered for him. “Because I have something he desperately wants.”
Rage boiled beneath my skin. “What can he give you that’s worth more than my life?” I yelled across the room at the guy I’d believed to be my friend. Elymas still held his blade centimeters from my neck, but part of me didn’t care anymore.
Maybe it was the bitterness in my voice or the disbelief in my expression, but finally Leo broke his silence. “It was never meant to be your life.” He grimaced. “It was supposed to be easy—get three Guardians to choose badly.”
My jaw slackened; he’d sold out, just like X and the Guardian who’d killed my mother.
“You were the third,” Leo continued. “All you had to do was kiss another stupid girl, one you cared nothing about, like all the other ones you cared nothing about. Everything was on track, and then you planted one on Cora and it all went to shit!” He stepped forward but stopped when Clay clamped a hand on his arm.
“They beat me to a pulp that Wednesday night because I’d failed, because by some fluke you’d chosen right. Like you, they can’t kill me, but three days of constant thrashing by a horde of Groth Maar made me wish they could, you self-righteous asshole.” The blade in his hand shook with the force of his words.
Beside Leo, Clay sneered. My bet was he’d been first in line during the beatings, relishing every second of Leo’s pain, even though he would have felt the sting of the blows he himself inflicted. Sadistic demon bastard.
“It was never meant to get to this, but when Cora ended up a Loose Thread…” His chest heaved with emotion. Frustration? Anger? Regret? I couldn’t tell. “Now one of you has to die.”
Hopelessness pressed down on me, cold and unyielding. I fought to hold it back. I gripped the lectern so hard my nails dug into the wood. “Our friendship? The threat to Beth’s life? Was any of it real?”