I’d felt the attack like a tug at my magical center. Myrial must have reached inside me somehow to grasp my energy and pull it out. I opened my eyes and tried to focus on her lower abdomen, where succubus energy seemed to be centered. She was moving around too much, though—I couldn’t maintain my focus with her ducking and whirling so fast.
Instead, I closed my eyes again and tried to reach out with my other senses. This had worked pretty well on occasions when I was feeding; I could usually picture the animus trails behind my eyelids, even ones that weren’t directed at me. I doubted there would be any trails here, as such. Full-blooded demons wouldn’t go around letting hard-won energy leak out of them for anyone to pick up and use. It would be barricaded inside them somehow.
After a few seconds of concentration, I became aware of two reservoirs of glowing magical energy spinning and wheeling madly as the demons fought each other. Rans was a familiar presence at my side. His energy was mostly contained, as I’d asked—warm even though his flesh was cool. I directed my focus away from him and toward the unfamiliar energies.
One was cool and cerebral, but felt oddly depleted. Nigellus, I decided. The other was hot, almost molten... full of anger and passion.
Bingo.
I tried to reach for it, but it felt very far away. It was like reaching for an object that wasn’t where you expected it to be, your fingers closing around nothing. I shook my head sharply. No. It was right there. I just wasn’t used to having to work so hard to grasp animus—that was all.
I’d sucked ten strong men dry, not ten minutes ago. I could do this, damn it.
The invisible barrier that kept me from grasping what I wanted couldn’t be impenetrable. Myrial fed from other people just like I did. There had to be a way in.
A strong hand steadied me, resting on my lower back, and I realized I was swaying in place.
“Almost there,” I grated, keeping my eyes closed as I fumbled around Myrial’s magical barriers, seeking.
Metal clashed against metal with startling force, and suddenly I was inside—Myrial’s moment of surprise as Nigellus briefly gained the upper hand giving me the distraction I needed when her guard dropped for the barest of instants. I pictured her energy unspooling toward me as the cops’ energy had done, and felt her smooth movements falter under my assault.
“Something’s happening,” Rans murmured near my ear. “Keep going.”
I had every intention of doing just that. Unfortunately, a second later I heard Myrial’s enraged shout, and a vicious yank against my magical core nearly sent me to my knees. It was the same feeling as when she’d drained me at the gate, and panic clawed at me as I realized the connection flowed both ways.
The bitch was trying to turn the tables on me.
“Zorah,” Rans said sharply, his hand still supporting me.
“She’s fighting back!” I snapped. A flash of lightning split the sky. I slithered to my knees in the mud, not wanting to split my attention between the unexpected tug-of-war with Myrial and the complexity of standing upright. “I need her distracted again!”
I mentally dug my heels in, picturing the energy connection as a physical rope that I could pull on. Rans cursed under his breath. My eyes blinked open again as he sprang toward the clashing figures, salt dagger in hand.
The rainwater blurred my vision. I blinked my eyes clear as best I could, needing to see what was happening even though I knew it was a bad idea to split my attention between my eyes and my magic.
Rans slammed into Myrial, only to be thrown off violently. He dissipated into vapor an instant before her battle scythe would have sliced him open from neck to belly, and I cried out in dismay at the near miss.
Myrial snarled, the sound feral. My control of the connection between us slipped, some of my animus sliding away from my grip. With a curse, I redoubled my efforts. I’d wanted Myrial distracted, but I was the one in danger of being distracted now with Rans in the line of fire.
A horrific gash decorated Nigellus’ chest where Myrial’s blade had caught him at some point, but the demon of fate wasted no time in pressing his attack—taking advantage of Rans’ entry into the fight. He slashed and parried relentlessly, heedless of the fresh slices from Myrial’s crackling blade whenever he got too close to her.
Rans darted in and out, solidifying for the space of a heartbeat and attacking, only to dematerialize into mist again before Myrial could gut him. Her wings were as much weapons as her scythe, battering him whenever he tried to pincer her between his attack and Nigellus’ fiery blade.
Meanwhile... I pulled. I gritted my teeth and clamped my jaw, trying not to focus on how obviously in over my head I was. I sure as hell wasn’t winning our tug-of-war. I wasn’t even sure I was holding my own. The fear that my gambit might somehow end up strengthening Myrial rather than weakening her kept me fighting—even though every muscle in my body quivered like I’d just run a marathon.
I didn’t have to win, I told myself. I just had to keep her occupied on a third front. With all three of us ganging up on her, someone would eventually get in a lucky strike. At least, someone had damned well better get in a lucky strike, because I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep this up—
Nigellus lunged, ignoring the bite of Myrial’s blade as it impaled his side. He grabbed the handle a few inches
