Then the darkness shifted and a scaly brown shadow launched at me. I held my ground, waiting, as it arrowed through the air, reaching for me with brutally sharp claws. At the last possible moment, I dropped low, raised Nex, and sliced the bastard open from neck to genitals. As the black rain of his blood and guts fell all around me and his body flopped lifelessly into the water behind, I pushed upright and waited for the next attack. It was tempting, so very tempting, to unleash the combined power of the daggers and cinder the whole unseen lot of them, but I’d only just recovered from the effort of killing the red bastard, and I had no idea what sort of toll unleashing the daggers so soon after that would have on me. Better to wait and only use it as a last means of survival.
There was no immediate response from the narrow darkness of the slot ahead. No sound to indicate they were still on the move. Either they were waiting to see what my next move was or they were deciding whether it was feasible to sneak up on me from the other side of the bridge.
I shifted stance so that I was slightly side-on and able to see both ahead and behind.
Mo, I noted, was almost finished. A few more minutes was all she needed …
With a roar that echoed across the night, the demons attacked. Not just one or two, but at least a dozen of them. They rushed from both sides of the canyon, their claws and yellowed tusks glinting in the fractured, eager light being emitted by both daggers. I swore and attacked, twisting and slashing, cutting fingers and arms and legs. Sliced faces and chests, dodging and weaving as best I could in the slippery confines of the beck. And still they came at me, a never-ending flow of stinking, bleeding scaly flesh.
Three more dropped over the edge of the bridge and arrowed toward Mo. I screamed a denial and clashed the blades together to form a cross. Power surged—one that spoke of storms, not magic, and a force that came from deep within rather than the sky—and then twin bolts of lightning shot from the ends of both blades. They peeled away the night as they arced across the canyon, cindering the three demons in an instant.
Something hit my back, a weight that bit and tore even as it drove me into the water. I screamed again and slashed back with Vita; felt a moment of resistance and then the spurt of liquid across my neck. The weight fell away, but others leapt closer, eager to take its position. I swore and whipped the lightning around the canyon, cindering every one of the bastards. As their ash fell around me, I sucked in a deep breath and thrust fully upright again.
Another scrape of sound … I spun around, daggers at the ready. Saw a shadow, then the gleam of a blade, and flicked the lightning toward it. Then awareness surged. I swore and recalled the bolts.
This was no demon or dark elf.
It was my goddamn brother.
Chapter Two
I sucked in a breath to steady my nerves and then said, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“What the fuck do you think I’m doing? I’m certainly not here to enjoy the damn scenery.” His expression was a mix of annoyance and concern. “How badly are you hurt?”
“Lots of bites and cuts, but I’ll survive.” I shoved the daggers back into their sheaths. “How the hell did you know we were here?”
“How the hell do you think I knew? I met the Blackbird at what remains of our bookstore.” He paused. “How did that happen?”
“Long story short, we were attacked by a Darkside-raised witchling with the ability to raze buildings. And Luc couldn’t have known where we were, because the last time he saw us we were flying toward King’s Island.”
“Why were you flying there?”
“Because we feared the maniac who’s been killing off heirs might have gone up there to draw the sword.”
“And had he?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, fuck.” Max swept a hand through his short dark hair. Unlike me, he was full De Montfort in looks. The males of our line all had black skin and hair, while females tended to be brown, but both genders had blue irises ringed by gold. Sadly, I’d been born with Mom’s Okoro coloring—though not her gifts—and had white skin, pale blonde hair, and black eyes. Strangers rarely ever guessed that Max and I were twins.
“To put it mildly, yes,” I said. “Hence our frantic flight up here and the wall Mo’s raising.”
His gaze narrowed thoughtfully. “One that almost appears to be a mix of personal and elemental magic.”
“It is, and that will hopefully mean it’ll take the bastard with the sword longer to break through it. And you didn’t answer the question.”
He raised an eyebrow, though amusement lurked in his eyes. “What question?”
“How could Luc have told you where we were when he didn’t know?”
He gave me the look. The one that suggested I was being an idiot.
“Put together a missing sword and the fact you two weren’t home, and it’s not hard to come up with the correct answer as to where you’d gone. He’s not dumb, Gwen, even if he is an annoying prick.” He glared at me for a second, and then added, “Why am I getting the third degree? If you don’t want my help, just say so. More than happy to fly back to the evening’s entertainment. He’s keeping a nice bottle of champers on ice for us.”
I raised my hands. “Okay, okay, sorry. It’s just been a stressful few days.”
Which technically wasn’t true, as I’d actually been unconscious for the last three days; it was hard to be stressed when you were oblivious to everything that was happening around you.
“Yeah, well,” he growled, “there’s no need to take it out on me.”
I was tempted to bite right back, but resisted. Anger wouldn’t get me anywhere; it certainly wouldn’t get me answers. I’d learned that a long time ago. I trusted my brother—I really did—but we now believed someone within our small circle was passing information on to Darkside, and Max had to be a suspect. Maybe Darkside had infiltrated his circle of friends, or maybe one of his lovers was being paid to gather information. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time they’d tried that tactic. They’d hired Tristan Chen—who’d been my first boyfriend, and someone I’d remained close to even after we’d broken up—to get information not only from me, but also from the sister of at least one heir. Of course, Tris was now dead, killed by a single shot to the head when his usefulness had ended. I didn’t want the same thing happening to my brother, however peripherally or unknowingly involved he was in this mess.
“This man you have waiting for you … are you sure he’s okay?”
He gave me another of those looks. “I always use condoms, Gwen.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He rolled his eyes. “He’s not another Tris, if that’s what you’re saying.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I am.” He glanced across the Gill. It was only then I realized Mo had finished spelling and now walked toward us. “Where the hell did you learn to create something like that, Mo? It’s not a De Montfort skill.”
“Healing isn’t the only thing I can do, my boy, and if you stayed home longer than it takes to grab clean clothes, you might be aware of that.” Though her tone was tart, it was softened by the smile tugging at her lips. “Better yet, you might even be able to help your sister fight a demon or two.”