And it felt so good.
He cursed, long and loud, as he fought against my restraints, trying to attack, trying to move. Every movement tore at me, and deep in my brain the ache began, a slow beat that would soon be followed by blood if I didn’t end this.
“You will eventually escape the magic that binds you, Clayton, but by then, it’ll be far too late.”
His gaze snapped to mine. For the very first time, a smidge of uncertainty was evident in his expression.
“Meaning you intend to kill me? And risk internment for a very long time?” He snorted. “You didn’t have the courage thirteen years ago. I doubt you have it now.”
“I have no intention of killing you.” I grabbed the hilt of my knife and slowly withdrew it from his flesh. As a dark stain began to spread across the silk of his suit jacket, he hissed and his hands twitched. Whether he meant to grab at his stomach or me was a moot point—he was too tightly bound to do either. “But that doesn’t mean you’ll live to see the rise of dawn.”
“The wound won’t kill me,” he growled. “You’d better run, dear Elizabeth, because I’m through playing games—”
“Oh, so am I.” I stepped away from him. “There’s one very vital thing you forgot—the wellspring in this reservation lay unprotected for over a year, and that allowed all manner of dark entities to come seeking its power. I’d wish you luck against them, Clayton, but in truth, I hope they tear you apart piece by tiny piece.”
His sneer remained, despite the strengthening swirl of unease in his aura and the growing smell of his fear. “They won’t get through my protections—”
“They already have. You’re going to die wishing you’d never ever laid a goddamn hand on me and Belle.”
And with that, I grabbed my clothes and walked out.
His rage and threats chased me out the door. I picked up the backpack and my phone, but as I walked down the steps, awareness stirred.
Maelle had returned.
Her anger—and her hunger—was so deep, so fierce, that it stained the night and burned across my skin. I didn’t stop. I’d made a bargain with the devil herself, and I dared not go back on it. And, in reality, I didn’t want to. He deserved the slow dance of death he was about to get. I only wished the souls of all those he’d killed could be here to witness it.
Her magic surged, and Clayton abruptly fell silent. I climbed into the SUV, started the engine, then turned around and left.
I didn’t look back.
Epilogue
Everything that happened after that was somewhat hazy. I had no memory of reaching Monty, no memory of ambulances or doctors, and only the vaguest recollection of anxious faces staring down at me.
Consciousness was a long time returning; I stirred, aware first of a soft, slow beeping, a rhythm that not only matched the beat of my heart, but that of another.
Belle.
She was here, in the same hospital room, in the bed next to mine.
“And alive, just like you,” she said softly. “But I’m going to fucking kill you when I’m feeling up to it. You scared the hell out of me, woman.”
“Not as much as I scared the hell out of me.” I opened my eyes and studied her. There were healing wounds on her arms and a thick bandage around her shoulder where the black knife thingie had been. The blankets were tucked up over her breasts, so I couldn’t see the state of the wounds on her torso, but given her thoughts were free of pain, they were obviously on the mend.
And lord, it felt so good to have the background buzz of her thoughts in mine again.
“How long have we been here?” I added.
She grimaced. “Five fucking days. My shoulder was a mess, and you were unconscious and unresponsive to any and all treatment, and they had no idea why.”
I did. It was the cost of tearing open the last of the restraints and allowing the full force of my inner wild magic free. There would be further consequences, of that I was sure. “Has there been any blowback from Canberra?”
“Not as yet.” She wrinkled her nose. “Aiden and Monty have been handling all their enquiries, but they’ll want to interview us eventually.”
“Did Monty give them the recordings?”
“Yes. From what he said, they were rather shocked.”
I snorted. “I’m not sure why. We did warn them he’d lost the plot.”
“I think they were rather shocked at just how far he’d fallen, though.” She hesitated, and then added softly, “Apparently, there’s been no sign of either Maelle or Roger. They’re sifting through Émigré’s remains, looking for them.”
“Monty knows she’s not dead.”
“So does Aiden. The council finally told him about her, though I suspect only because he demanded the truth from them.”
I wrinkled my nose. I daresay that meant he and I were going to have another one of those conversations about honesty.
“Have they found Clayton’s body?”
“Yes, although to actually define his remains as a body would apparently be something of a stretch.”
“Maelle did say she was going to bathe in his blood and dine on his agony.” I did my best to ignore the vague pinpricks of guilt. No matter how much they might suggest I should have at least ensured him a quick, clean death, there was no way in truth I could have ever swayed Maelle from her chosen means of revenge. “Was he found within the reservation or outside of it?”
“Out.
