A black smudge flew from her body, whizzing toward me.
Moran’s sword appeared in his hand. “Wh-what—”
Normally, I’d have enjoyed rendering him speechless, but there wasn’t time to gloat.
I dropped my blood armor. “It’s a Repha’im. A soul of—”
The Repha’im wound around me like a python, squeezing the life out of me.
If this was a Mundane, I was dead. Jezebels could only destroy Nefesh souls. I fired a red ribbon of blood magic into the Repha’im, tasting dust, but when I impaled it with my red forked branches, it tore free. Shit. Was it Mundane?
One of Moran’s contingent hurled a fireball at it.
The Repha’im released me and blanketed the guard in a giant shadow. The guard gasped and his lifeless, deflated corpse slithered to the ground.
Two more rushed the Repha’im. I knocked them out of its path with brute force, and they turned on me, but Moran yelled, “Hold!”
The guards fell back, but their desire for retribution shimmered in the air. If I didn’t kill this, they’d direct it at me, a convenient scapegoat.
I squared my shoulders and sent more branches into the Repha’im. For a dead spirit, it fought like a man with nothing to lose.
My heartbeat slowed and my vision tunneled in and out. I couldn’t breathe under its frenzied onslaught, my branches sputtering in and out of existence, overpowered.
Moran yelled something but his words blew away on the breeze. Color leached from the world and I fell to my knees. Scowling, he stomped over and stabbed me in the arm.
I screamed, but that rush of pain gave me enough of a boost that time and color snapped back into place. Branches exploded around me, impaling the Repha’im. The clusters bloomed; the shade was destroyed.
I pushed a sweat-soaked lock of hair out of my face, holding my arm. Blood gooped through my fingers. “You asshole.”
Moran gave one more long, hard look at the spot where the Repha’im had been before he shook himself out of his stupor. “Merely a flesh wound. Now, if you will, what is a Repha’im?”
“A dead person’s shade from Sheol, the underworld. The land of death, silence, and forgetting.” I helpfully sprinkled in a few interesting trivia facts that I’d learned, including the fact that I’d only been able to kill this one because it was Nefesh. “Surprise!”
For a brief second, Moran was engulfed in electricity—his actual magic ability—but he quickly shut it down.
“Well, that can’t be good for your blood pressure,” I said. “Feel free to convey my surprising information to the Queen.”
“How did it get into Hedon?” Moran demanded.
“Still unclear on that part.”
“I suggest you find out and get back to me then.”
Well, at least the alliance wasn’t totally off the table after that little debacle. I had the Queen’s stage name and the lip print and lipstick might give me a genetic profile, but she’d gone to great lengths to hide her identity and not every surprise was well-received. I’d wanted the knowledge for myself, not to put myself into a more dangerous situation with her. Would I play that card as a last resort? Probably, but it would have been nice if the Repha’im had been enough to seal the deal.
“You killed Gunter?” In the melee, I’d lost track of Mayan. She sat on the ground, sobbing softly, her eyes trained on me.
“I did.”
The charge of murder galvanized the guards and they advanced on me.
I tried to manifest my armor but I was out of juice. “Calm your tits. I killed Gunter’s spirit. Corporeal Gunter was already dead. Ask Alfie, owner of the Green Olive.” I gestured at Mayan. “Let me take her back and all this becomes Levi’s headache.”
Moran looked between me and guards, fingers tapping against his sword hilt.
My stomach flipped over in dread. The Queen didn’t like complications and I’d brought this massive one to her door. One visit to the Queen’s dungeon was enough for a lifetime.
Moran clenched his jaw. “Escort them to the exit. And Ashira? Should you have an ounce of self-preservation, stay out of Hedon for a good, long while.”
“You of all people should know I’m terrible at following orders.”
He tapped the flat edge of his sword.
“But I’m happy to try.” I scooped up my purse, depositing in it the wreckage of the tiara and my promise to Priya. I’d sworn to the person I loved most to keep this one thing safe and I’d failed. It was her talisman. Her way to move on with confidence. How much of a setback would its loss be?
I bowed to Moran. “Your Henchmanness. Until we meet again.”
Chapter 20
Dawn had broken on Sunday morning by the time I staggered out of the elevator at Harbour Center, carrying Mayan. One of the guards was a healer and he’d fixed her injuries up, but she was still in shock. He’d also treated the sword cut on my arm.
“You’re all right?” Rafael saw us and quit pacing. I nodded. “What took so long?”
“I didn’t want the good times to end.” I deposited Mayan gently on a bench.
She’d stopped crying, but she was pale and unnaturally quiet. The only thing she’d asked on our trip back was whether Alfie was alive. When I assured her that he was fine, she’d nodded, relieved. She hadn’t spoken since.
I called Miles, briefly explaining the situation. He instructed us to wait there, which gave me time to get the story out of Mayan.
“Mayan.”
She sunk further into herself.
“Tell me what happened. Why did you first call Levi?”
Mayan remained silent, her chin cast at a stubborn angle.
I leaned in, determined to get answers out of her, but Rafael put a hand on my shoulder.
“Allow me,” he murmured. “Mayan. We require your assistance. It’s vital that we understand what led us to the events of this evening.”
It was the British accent, I swear. She gave him this melty look and nodded.
It was the age-old story of girl meets boy, girl discovers boy is a necromancer, girl asks ex
