The office they entered wasn’t what Jocasta was expecting. Huge windows overlooking stunning mountain vistas occupied one whole wall. In front of that was a large wooden desk, neatly arranged, with a grand padded chair behind it. Two other chairs were set in front of it, small in comparison to the desk. Shelves lined one wall, holding books, vials, scrolls and other items that she didn’t have time to examine.
And Malachi himself sat behind that desk, watching them from hooded eyes. White hair, worn long and tied in a simple tail at the back, pale skin and eyes so dark they were almost black.
For a moment, Jocasta had to restrain herself from laughing. If she ever thought of a perfect villain for a story, Malachi would fit the bill.
“Who is this?” Malachi was looking directly at her, but obviously not talking to her.
“Ah,” Darius said. “This is Lady Jocasta, of House Whispering Pines. She has come to…ah…treat with you? To try to come to terms for her House. And this is Willow, who—”
“I know who that is,” Malachi snarled. “Do you think I’m an idiot? What’s she doing here?”
Jocasta was good at reading body language, and Malachi appeared to be uncomfortable in the presence of the healer. That was a good sign.
“She’s come to join,” Darius said. “I believe she sees the way things are going and wants in on the winning side.”
“I want to survive,” Willow said, her voice full of disdain. “Even if I do find your methods repugnant.”
Malachi stared at her, staying silent. Then, “We’ll see. I don’t trust you, healer.” He turned to Darius. “And I’m not sure about you, either. Why do I feel that you’re up to something?”
He narrowed his eyes, and Darius stiffened, sweat breaking out on his brow.
Jocasta knew next to nothing about magic, but given what they’d all discussed, she believed that Malachi was burrowing into Darius’s mind, trying to root out any hidden plots.
“It’s not him you have to worry about, you piece of filth,” Jocasta sneered.
She drew a dagger, her arm going down to grab it, then back up and over her shoulder for a throw in one easy motion. Her role was to be a distraction, but she had every intention of finishing the job if she could and putting the knife right into his eye.
Then, she remembered that she couldn’t. They needed him alive to tell them how to stop the madness infecting their Houses.
Malachi spun, snarling and raising his hands. A force hit Jocasta, not so much a physical one, although her head did rock back with the strength of it. Instead, it was as if something were squeezing her brain.
She’d never felt anything like it before, not even in front of that gate. That had been vile, wrong, a sickness that didn’t belong in the world. This was pure pressure.
She dropped her arm and let her gaze unfocus, watching Malachi smile.
“So, you did bring an assassin in,” he said.
“No!” Darius insisted. “She said she wanted to—”
His words were cut off midsentence.
“Silence,” Malachi whispered. “It’s a shame you weren’t here before. You could have taken your final reward with the rest.” He smiled. “It’s not too late. Besides, have you forgotten that you already belong to me?”
He curled his hand into a fist and twisted it in the air.
Darius cocked his head and looked back at him. Malachi frowned and repeated the motion.
“Something wrong?” Darius asked.
“The healer!” Malachi spat. “You must live up to your reputation if you were able to undo my work. No matter. I have other ways.”
He threw out his hands, fingers crooked, and a blue, shimmering light appeared in the air in front of him. Malachi’s eyes were focused squarely on Willow as the field spread.
“You first,” he purred. “You’ll be a powerful addition to the blood sacrifice.”
Willow stiffened, her eyes never leaving Malachi.
It was time. Jocasta pulled back, aimed, and threw in one swift motion. Her dagger flashed through the air between them and hit home with a satisfying sound.
Malachi let out a brief scream and dropped his hands, grabbing the dagger that stuck out of his right shoulder with his left hand. The blue shimmer in the air disappeared. Then, he started to laugh.
Jocasta frowned, unsure of what she was seeing. The man must be as mad as Jamshir.
He pulled the dagger free, still chuckling and tossed it casually back toward her. It fell on the floor near her foot, totally devoid of blood. There was none on the knife and none appearing on the front of Malachi’s robe.
“Children’s toys,” Malachi sneered. “Although how you’re resisting me is intriguing. You, I might leave alive. These two however…”
He slowly turned back to Darius and Willow.
They shrank back, and Jocasta drew her other dagger. The first one might not have hurt him, but one in the temple should be a different story.
Her throw went wild at a simple gesture from Malachi. The dagger flew up, impaling a ceiling beam overhead.
Malachi laughed softly. “You are persistent,” he said. “Perhaps I’ll….”
Then his voice dragged to a drawl and his eyes lost their focus.
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Jocasta heard Thaddeus say behind her.
A sheet of flame, almost white hot in its intensity flared into life in front of Malachi, forming into a circle and starting to surround him.
Thaddeus entered the room, hands moving, manipulating the flame so that it formed a cage around Malachi, closing in tighter. Strangely, it didn’t leave any scorch marks on the floor as it moved inward.
Melanie came behind him, her face screwed tight in concentration. She moved to Darius, hand held out, and Darius took it. Willow grabbed her other one and the three stared at
