The Spirit Thief

and flopped on the ground beside her. “Get on already, you’re making me hurt just watching you.”

Miranda grinned and tossed her improvised crutch aside, climbing up his back as fast as her aching muscles allowed.

“Anyway”-Gin lowered his head to his paws, which suddenly required his immediate attention-“I preferred to wait.”

Miranda hid her smile in his fur as she made her way to her usual seat behind his ears. When she was settled, she nudged him with her boot. Gin rose and, together, they slunk westward through the trees.

In another world, a door opened in a white room. Or, rather, that was incorrect, for to say a door opened implies that a door existed. Nothing here existed if she did not will it, and she was not expecting the door. Still, it opened just the same, and a tall, angry man stepped into the perfect white nothing she lounged in, watching her sphere.

Her white eyes flicked over him, and a delicate sneer appeared on her flawless white face.

Why do you come when you are not summoned?

The angry man did not answer. He crossed the blankness with long strides and stood beside her, arms folded over his chest.

“He’s doing it again.” His voice was like distant thunder. “You have to put a stop to this.”

What should you care?

The man’s face grew even angrier, and his long fingers gripped the blue-wrapped sword at his hip. She smiled coyly. It was times like these, when his rages got the better of his sense, that she remembered why she treasured him still, despite his presumptions.

“With respect,” he growled, “you created me to care. I spared your favorite’s companion when he took in the demonseed. I even turned a blind eye when he gave her that triple-damned coat, but this is too far. The whole League just felt her attack a stone spirit, and yet you give no order to attack.” His voice rose with each word, and small tongues of lightning began to crackle from the hand that gripped his sword hilt. “How am I to fulfill my purpose if you block me at every turn for the sake of your pet thief!”

He had barely finished when the empty whiteness pressed in around him, grabbing him in a vise of air and lead. The woman’s coy smile never faded, but her anger thrilled through the emptiness until he felt the light itself burning his skin. Even then, he did not move, and his scowl did not change.

Eli is mine. The words were glass shards grinding through his mind. You are not to go near him.

“And should the demonseed awake?” he said, choking against the unrelenting pressure. “Am I to watch her devour the world and your precious Eli with it?!”

I have spoken!

The man staggered under her anger, dropping to one knee. Her white face softened, and she reached out to lay a snowy hand on his dark hair.

There, there, she cooed. It will not come to that. She slid her hand down his cheek and tilted his head up, her sharp nails digging into the tender flesh of his throat. Have faith in me, my Lord of Storms.

The dark-haired man shivered as his silver eyes locked with her white ones, unable to look away. Slowly, she leaned across the emptiness and laid a kiss sharp as broken ice on his trembling lips.

Now go. She pushed him away. And do not return until summoned.

Released from her grip, the Lord of Storms struggled to his feet, but the white woman’s attention had already strayed back to the sphere that floated in front of her. It hung in the white nothingness like a rain drop frozen in the moment before it lands, and inside, a tiny, flat map of greens and blues, snowy mountains and glinting seas, revolved in absolute perfection under a cloud-strewn evening sky.

“As you ask,” the dark-haired man said, bowing low, “Benehime.” With those words he vanished from the white, empty world, leaving the lady to her delights as the door that was not a door closed behind him without a sound.

In the inmost chamber of a great stone fortress that stood alone on a sea cliff hundreds of miles from the nearest city of men, a thin, white line appeared on the soot-blackened wall, drowning the sputtering light of the oil lamps with snowblind brilliance. The man waiting there sprang to his feet, his long black coat falling around him like wings as the Lord of Storms stepped through the cut in reality and into his office.

The unworldly light had barely faded before he grabbed the sword from his side and flung it as hard as he could against the iron armor chest on the far wall.

“Damn that woman’s moods!” he roared, and whirled to face the man who had been waiting for him. “Do you believe it, Alric? A blatant attack on a spirit and she still refuses to let me go anywhere near that thief and his damned demon!”

“But the seed has already eaten her down to skin and bone,” Alric said, crossing the room to retrieve his master’s cast-off sword. “With food like that, and unlimited time to consume it, the seed could reach full maturity before awakening. If that happens, we might not have the numbers to stop it, and it will be the Dead Mountain fiasco all over again.”

“It won’t come to that,” the Lord of Storms said and began to pace the tiny room. “Have the League put up a watch for a hundred miles around the area where we felt the girl attack. Even if that blasted coat hides her when she’s passive, it can’t hide her when she uses the demon.”

“You think she’ll use it again in so short a period?” Alric handed him his sword. “Monpress has been very careful about that.”

“It doesn’t matter what the thief does.” The Lord of Storms sat down on his desk and laid his sword across his knees. “No matter how careful he tries to be, the truth doesn’t change. If he keeps letting the girl use her demon powers, then, sooner or later, the balance will tip. Once the awakening starts, nothing can stop it. Eventually, the demonseed will turn on him, and that infatuated woman will have no choice but to give the order.”

“You say that,” Alric said, frowning, “but a fully awakened demon is no small matter. We’ll have to be extremely thorough if we want to keep the seed from regressing and switching hosts. What of the thief or his swordsman should they get in the way? They seem very attached to the demon’s human shell.”

The Lord of Storms unsheathed his sword with a ring of steel. “Killing the demon is all that matters,” he said, admiring the blue silver blade with a bloodthirsty smile. “Everything else can burn to ash.”

“Everything?” Alric arched an eyebrow.

The Lord of Storms swung his sword, his silver eyes lightning bright as he watched the air spirits flee before the blade. “Despite her whims, there are some rules even the Shepherdess can’t afford to break, and the lady always finds a new favorite in time.”

Alric bowed low. “We shall be ready. The League of Storms moves at your command.”

The Lord of Storms nodded, and Alric slipped quietly out of the room. Closing the door behind him, he set off down the narrow hall to ready the League for the hunt.

CHAPTER 12

Josef leaned against the tall boulder that marked the outer ring of the clearing that he’d chosen as their trade-off point, sharpening his dagger. It didn’t need the sharpening, but it was a good way to kill the time, and he had plenty of time to kill. Nico and the king were a few feet away, Nico looking thoughtful, the king looking terrified, standing at the very end of his tether. Eli was around the other side of the boulder, as he had been for the past half hour, talking to it animatedly. Josef ignored him when he could, focusing on the sound of the blade as it slid over the stone. Finally, the boulder rumbled gently, and Eli came around to Josef’s side, looking very pleased with himself.

“Are you done gossiping with the scenery?” Josef said, holding his knife out in front of him to check the