The Spirit Rebellion: The Legend of Eli Monpress: Book 2

side, Gin turned north between the silent, trembling buildings and headed toward the tower where, somewhere, her spirits were waiting.

Eli waved until the dog dove into the riverbed, and then sat down with a long, pained sigh to rub his poor, aching wrist.

“There was no need for disjointing,” Monpress said, sitting down beside him. “You could have just borrowed my lock pick.”

“What,” Eli said, “and ruin the show?”

Monpress sighed. “When will you learn there’s more to life than theatrics?”

“About the same time you learn there’s more to theft than money,” Eli said, slapping the old man across the shoulders.

Monpress grunted at the impact. “We should be going,” he said. “Will your companions be along soon?”

Eli looked sideways at him. “The Heart’s going strong, and I can hear the demon panic from here, so I think Josef and Nico are a little busy. Even if they weren’t, I’m not going anywhere. Weren’t you listening? I have a crazed Enslaver duke to bring down.”

Monpress gave him a surprised and disappointed look. “You’re actually going through with it? Have you forgotten everything I taught you?”

“I know, ‘the best revenge is a clean getaway,’ ” Eli said. “But this isn’t about revenge, old man, not entirely. It’s about principle. Not letting the tyrant win.”

Monpress shook his head. “Since when are you a man of principle?”

“Since always,” Eli said, getting up. “My principles were just never anything you cared about. Anyway, I didn’t volunteer you to come. Isn’t it about time for you to make a quiet exit?”

“Past time,” Monpress said, standing as well. “But I just lost ten thousand gold standards worth of stolen art trying to save your neck. I’m not about to let you go off and ruin my investment completely.”

Eli rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the fatherly concern.”

Monpress nodded graciously. “So, I assume you have a plan.”

“The beginnings of one,” Eli said, scratching his chin. “Can you still throw a clawhook and line two stories?”

“Of course,” Monpress said, insulted. “I’m old, not infirm.”

“Good,” Eli said, starting toward the bridge. “Then this just might work. Come on, I’ll explain on the way.”

Monpress shrugged and jogged after him, moving silently over the glowing river and toward the cowering city.

CHAPTER 21

Nico crouched, panting. Sted was walking toward her, panting as well, but his sword didn’t waver. They’d been going around the room for what felt like hours, neither able to land a finishing blow. Nico was too fast, and Sted was, so far as she could tell, uninjurable. He didn’t even defend when she leaped at him, but always went on the offensive, and the maze of long, bleeding cuts running across her body was all she had to show for her efforts.

But it wouldn’t last much longer. Already she’d dipped too deep into the demon’s power. The blackness was swimming over her vision, and she could feel her eyes burning, which meant they were glowing with the unnatural light. She was getting very close to the edge.

Normally she wouldn’t be concerned. She’d gone over the edge and come back before, and it was worth the risk if it meant she could do what needed to be done. But this time was different. This time there was no Josef waiting to bring her back. She slid between the shadows, watching as Sted circled in the dark, racking her brain for a way to finish this quickly, when a voice whispered deep in her ear.

Why not let go?

Nico froze midstep. The words echoed in her mind, but the voice wasn’t Sted’s. It came from inside her ears, from the dark blotch deep behind her conscious mind.

Embrace what you really are. We could crush him like a bug in one blow, him and that rabid dog sword of his.

Nico began to breathe heavily. The voice was cold and soft and somehow nostalgic, but she couldn’t actually remember hearing it before. In answer to that thought, the voice began to chuckle, and Nivel’s warning came back to Nico in a cold rush of sudden understanding: Never listen to the voice. Never acknowledge it.

Nico fled the shadows and dropped to the ground behind a crate, slamming a wall down between her mind and the voice. It was happening. She was losing control, just as Nivel had said she would. But Josef was relying on her. She had to hold on, had to beat Sted. Now was not the time to go soft.

As if to prove the point, the boards on the other side of her hiding place began to creak. Sted was moving toward her, dragging his sword along the crates, methodically breaking up every hiding place. Nico crouched in the shadow, examining her options, but any way she came at it, the situation looked hopeless. She’d matched Sted strength for strength, bashed his skull hard enough to crumple it to dust, but even after her best blows, Sted was uninjured. His skin was still whole and without so much as a bruise. Nico bit her lip. He couldn’t be unbeatable. No one was unbeatable, but she’d tried everything.

Everything? The voice chuckled. You haven’t begun to try. What are you doing, anyway? Dancing around in circles, trying the same things over and over, like they’ll somehow come out differently this time. How stupid.

Nico slapped her hands over her ears, but unbidden, driven by a force other than herself, her eyes flicked to Sted’s shoulder and the narrow sinews bending under his impenetrable skin.

Nico closed her eyes. This was too much. She couldn’t fight Sted and the voice. She cracked her eyelids, and her vision snapped back to Sted’s shoulder.

The strongest are only as strong as their weakest point, the voice said, smooth as honey. One hit and you’ll have the victory even Josef couldn’t manage.

Nico frowned. For all that she knew she shouldn’t listen, it was a good idea. Certainly better than her other options. Knowing she would probably regret this, but seeing no other option, she slid forward. Sted was nearly on top of her, though still clueless. For a League member, he was laughably bad at finding demons. She held her breath, waiting until the very last moment, as his hand was reaching for the lip of the crate that covered her. The moment his fingers wrapped around the splintered wood, she leaped.

She grabbed his sword arm and swung up, moving so quickly he could do nothing but watch as she landed feet-first on his shoulder. As soon as she had her footing, Nico reached down and grabbed Sted’s arm at the elbow with both hands, planting her feet on his shoulder, just like the image the voice had shown her in her mind. Pressing her feet against his straining shoulder right at the joint, she brought his arm up and back with all her strength until, with a sickening pop, she felt his shoulder snap through her boot.

Sted screamed, and there was a great crash as his sword fell to the ground from his limp hand. It was a temporary victory, however. Sted’s shoulder was only dislocated, not broken. Before he could recover, she needed to do some permanent damage. So, almost before the sword had hit the ground, she swung sideways, wrapping her legs around his thick neck and, using her motion as torque, threw him sideways. Overbalanced from his huge bulk, Sted slammed to the ground. He tried to catch his fall with his uninjured arm, but Nico was too quick. She kept moving, grabbing his arm and stepping sideways so that he landed on his stomach with her on his back, her foot stamped on his remaining good shoulder and his arm bent backward in her grip.

He was trapped beneath her, unable to move without breaking his own arm. Slowly, pleasurably, Nico bent his arm back over her knee, grinning as the bones groaned under the pressure, ready to snap. But as she bent his arm toward the breaking point, something deep inside her smiled, and her fingers began to move on their own. Her nails stabbed into Sted’s arm, digging into the flesh. Panic-blind and terrified, Nico tried to let go, but her limbs weren’t listening. Deep in her mind, the voice began to laugh, and, a second later, her fingers broke Sted’s iron skin.