The Demon's Covenant

It was too late, though. Jamie was kneeling at Nick’s side and Mae saw the white, strained look on his face before he bowed his head over Nick’s again, saying something lost in the sounds of battle.

Alan stooped and picked up Nick’s fallen sword, and he was suddenly carving his way toward them, passing Mae without acknowledging her at all except by clearing a path for her to follow him.

Alan dropped to his knees by Nick’s side just as Jamie got to his feet. The sword fell carelessly out of his hands and he touched Nick’s hair, his fingers coming away crimson and slick with fresh blood.

“Nick,” said Alan, and his voice broke on the name. “Oh, God. What have I done?”

A man rushed at Nick and Alan, one of the magicians and not an illusion, Mae was almost sure, going for them at their weakest moment. Mae stepped in, stopping his rush cold, and shoved her knife in below his ribs as hard as she could.

She’d been right. He wasn’t an illusion, he was a man.

He was the second man she’d killed. Mae looked into his slack, surprised face, the weight suddenly sagging on her knife, and she wanted to cry or scream.

She shoved him and he toppled backward, a heap of bones and flesh, with the ugly gracelessness of death. She’d wanted this battle. That meant she had to take what came with it.

“Hey,” Nick said, his whisper a thread of sound in all the screaming noise of battle and yet somehow catching her ear all the same. “You were holding that sword like it was a big dagger. Never let me see you do anything like that again.”

Alan made a sound that was torn roughly between a sob and a laugh.

The world went still.

Mae turned away from the brothers on her right and her mother on her left to find the source of all that stillness, the storm calmed as if it had never been, all the illusions suddenly night air. Above the bloodstained square there was suddenly nothing but stars.

The Obsidian Circle had stopped, hands up and magic arrested in their palms. One of them was a jaguar, and even it had gone still.

The only thing moving in the square was Jamie.

“Drop the helpless act,” he said in a pleasant, reminiscing voice. “Isn’t that what you said to me?”

“Um,” said Seb.

The night was so clear, the air suddenly crisp as winter. Mae found herself caught by Jamie’s eyes.

They were not brown, not even brown with a scythe-bright gleam. They were filled with the silvery shimmer of magic, making his eyes a scintillating wash of light. He looked blind.

On the side of his jaw there was a black demon’s mark, shadows crawling and burning against his pale skin.

A magician with a demon’s mark, not a magician’s mark, and power flooding through it.

Mae heard her own voice in her head. Nick could use Jamie as a channel for his power. It would help him to have a—a pet magician.

“And you said, you could be so much more,” Jamie told Gerald.

Gerald didn’t look scared the way Seb had, for Jamie or for himself. He stepped forward.

“You can be so much more.”

Jamie blinked at him, reptile-slow.

“You’re like me,” Gerald went on, low and coaxing. “You’re a magician. You know whose side you’re really on.”

Jamie looked back at Mae with her bloody knife, Alan with his bloody hands in his fallen brother’s hair. Mae followed Jamie’s gaze and saw Nick stirring, obviously healed before her magician brother had gotten to his feet.

“Not yours,” Jamie said. He lifted a hand, and the Obsidian Circle magicians fell against the side of the town hall like dolls hurled against a playroom wall.

Nick scooped up his sword and Alan took out his knives again, and Mae and Annabel joined them on either side. They all moved to stand behind Jamie.

Mae sought for Sin and found her, long knives in her hands and her silk shirt torn. She raised her eyebrows as if to say, What are you waiting for?

“Join up,” Sin snapped, and the Goblin Market stood with the demon and the traitor and the magician as one.

Gerald got to his feet slowly, the other Obsidian Circle magicians rising slowly around him, their eyes wary. Seb stayed down, his wrists propped on his knees, watching Jamie.

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” Jamie told them, his luminous, terrible eyes traveling across every face in the Circle, and back to Gerald’s. “I can’t kill you.”

“I could,” Nick volunteered.

The Goblin Market seemed to agree with Nick, drawing in closer, a tight, angry knot. Jamie glanced around at all of them and hesitated; he seemed to be on the verge of stepping back.

Then Gerald knelt on the ground.

“That’s right,” he called. “Come here.”