Reluctantly, the healer moved away. Jocasta sheathed her weapon and turned as well.
“Jocasta, mocasta, bocasta,” Jamshir sang.
“Surprised you remember that much,” she muttered.
“Sneaky-squeaky-jojojo.”
Jamshir’s voice was closer. In his madness, he’d ignored her and kept approaching. He couldn’t be allowed to follow them, or he’d warn Malachi of their approach.
“Enough,” she said, turning back to him.
He was right in front of her, a knife of his own that he must have hidden in his robes held in his hand. She had enough time to see the madness there tinged with malice before he struck.
The knife sank into her belly, fire spreading from the wound.
She gasped, unable to utter any other sound.
Her hand grabbed her own knife, and reflexes born of many a dockside brawl took over. Fighting the pain and nausea of her own wound, she plunged her dagger into Jamshir’s thigh.
He let out a high-pitched scream and pulled back, his knife sliding out of her, doing more damage on the way. Blood ran down her front, hot and sticky.
Jocasta tasted something foul, like iron, and knew that she was hurt badly.
Jamshir was moving away, limping backward and grasping at his right leg, his screams shrill.
“Shut him up!” Darius said. “He’ll bring the whole House down on us!”
Jocasta drew her other dagger, fighting to stay upright. Jamshir stared at her with the wide eyes of a child who’d been unfairly punished. With a snap of her wrist, she sent the dagger flying, turning end over end.
Her aim was good. It took Jamshir in the throat, cutting off his screams. He grabbed at it, the blood spurting between his fingers, a harsh rasp coming from his open mouth. He turned to run, staggered on his wounded leg and crashed into the wall.
Sliding down it, he turned his head to stare at Jocasta, tears running down his cheeks.
Time seemed to slow, and it took forever for him to die, his breath rasping in and out, becoming shallower by the moment, until finally, mercifully, it stopped, and Jamshir was no more.
Chapter 80
It all happened so fast that Darius barely had time to move. Jamshir appeared, stabbed Jocasta, screamed and died within moments. He vaguely recalled telling her to stop him from screaming, but he didn’t mean to…to…
He was shaken from his stupor by Willow rushing past him to help Jocasta. He ran also, catching her as she started to crumple to the floor.
“Stay calm,” Willow said, her voice measured.
“I’m always calm,” Jocasta said, her voice little more than a whisper.
“Good. That’s good.” Willow was already moving, ripping open Jocasta’s shirt to get at her wound.
It didn’t look good, at least not to Darius’s untrained eyes. Her belly was slick with blood and it was hard to tell where in the mess it was coming from. But considering the way it was running down her sides and pooling beneath her, it was obviously still bleeding badly.
“He got me,” Jocasta whispered. “Can’t believe I let him do that.”
“Yeah, well, you got him back,” Darius said and tried to smile at her. He was afraid that he managed nothing more than a rictus grin.
“Huh. Yeah…too bad…”
He was about to ask her what she meant when Willow hushed him.
“I need to concentrate,” she said. “You need to keep watch. And see if you spot the others coming.”
She was sending him away so that she could work in peace. Darius could respect that. He was always able to work better magic when he could focus on it as well. He was pretty sure that everyone could. After all, it wasn’t unusual that…
Even to himself, he was babbling.
He was actually trying to distract himself from what lay ahead. They were counting on Jocasta being their secret weapon, their momentary decoy that would allow the others to get to Malachi without getting cut to shreds.
If she wasn’t with them, then what? Call the whole thing off? Send in Solomon and hope that he was quick enough to get Malachi before he made a portal and escaped?
And even if Jocasta could continue, was this nothing more than a fool’s errand? She’d let herself be gutted by a decrepit madman. How could she possibly stand up to Malachi, even for a moment?
“Calm yourself,” he thought.
He tried to put it in Willow’s voice. You’re panicking over nothing. Willow will heal Jocasta and, unlike with Jamshir, she’ll be on her guard against Malachi. All we need is a few seconds. Keep him occupied and let Thaddeus fry him, or Jocasta stab him, or Melanie break his mind again. Or Solomon….do whatever it was that Solomon did.
He controlled his breathing. Nothing stirred in the hallway. He moved a short distance away, going to the stairs leading to the second above-ground floor. Nothing there, either.
Walking back to where he left the other two he heard Willow suddenly gasp, and broke into a run, opening his mind to the magic.
He was no Thaddeus, but he knew a few spells that would cause someone to think again. He ducked his hand into his pocket, pulling out a small, sharp piece of metal. A few quick words and it would fly through the air like an arrow, enough to put out an eye if need be.
There was no sign of any attacker.
Jocasta was still lying in her own blood, her skin ashen. Willow knelt next to her, eyes closed, murmuring softly under her breath.
Darius wanted to ask her if she was okay but didn’t dare interrupt what she was doing. He held onto his piece of metal and resumed watching in every direction at once as best he could.
Minutes passed, and still Willow continued to chant quietly. With every
