him.”
Carson fought to keep her mind walled off. She might not be able to use her magic, but Kynan was right about one thing. She was free, and she could do whatever she wanted. “I’d rather die.”
Chapter 9
N ikodemus smelled pizza when he came in with Durian. The whole business with the phone and the yelling was an annoying fuckup. Durian had called to report no progress and then dropped his phone in the john, hence the screams of anguish before everything cut off.
“The witch still here?” Durian said.
“Yeah.” Good, he thought, smelling the extra garlic and basil. At least Carson had had something to eat. The imps were jumpy, but considering Magellan’s not-really-a-witch was in the house, no wonder. She amped him up, too.
“You sure?” Durian had been all over the city, and he still looked like he’d just stepped out of the pages of GQ.
He was sure, except, actually, he couldn’t feel her. Not a thing. An exhausted human could do that, sleep so hard he couldn’t be felt. “She’s probably asleep on the couch, dead to the world. She’s had a hard couple of days. Makes sense she’d fall asleep after getting some food in her stomach.”
“Sure.”
She wasn’t in the front room.
But a quarter of a large pizza and two bottles of beer sat on the coffee table. The television was on with the sound off, frozen on a scene from Mortal Kombat. One of the beers was empty. The other one hadn’t been touched. Not more than a sip or two at best. Cold. Not icy anymore, but still cold.
Durian picked up her purse. Black leather, battered and shapeless, the stitching coming loose. “This hers?”
“Yes.” From the corner of his eye, he saw a red dot on the floor. His pulse shot up to two hundred. A drop of blood. Just one, a perfect circle on the floor. He knelt by the droplet. Not fresh enough to be warm, not old enough to be dry. He touched the drop and brought his finger to his tongue. Carson’s blood, no question. Even stale, the taste worked on him. He let his body react, and his magic roared to life. He didn’t do anything to bring it down. The imps chittered loudly.
“What is it?” Durian asked.
“Carson’s gone.” The house was empty. No mage. No Carson Philips. No talisman, either. An uneasy feeling settled on him. That drop of blood suggested too much that wasn’t pleasant. “I don’t feel another fiend, do you?”
“No.” He felt Durian go on alert, gathering his magic, letting the constraints of a human body dissolve enough to pull additional power. Nikodemus had already done the same. A sweep of the house didn’t take long.
“Looks like your little witch robbed you blind,” Durian said when the two of them stood in front of the empty niche. Nikodemus tried pretending the talisman was still there, but his indulgence lasted about three seconds before the disaster sank in. The thought of a mage with the kind of power the talisman would confer turned his blood to ice.
“No, she didn’t.” His defense of her came out without him even thinking about it. Now, that was a shock, to realize how strongly he felt about the witch. Well, fuck Durian’s attitude.
“She’s on her way to Magellan right now,” Durian said. “Or else off by herself, killing one of the kin on her own.”
“I want to know what happened here,” Nikodemus said. “Then I want to find her.” There was no way she could crack the talisman on her own. She couldn’t. And he just didn’t believe she’d go running back to Magellan. No way.
Durian bent on one knee, examining the floor. “You got fooled, Warlord. That’s what happened.”
“Only another fiend could have gotten through my wards.” Durian didn’t argue, because it was true. “And since we didn’t feel so much as an echo of a fiend here, whoever took it must be mageheld.”
“Of course. She’s a witch. She probably has dozens of magehelds at her command,” Durian said. He looked over his shoulder at Nikodemus. “She
Carson fought to keep her mind walled off. She might not be able to use her magic, but Kynan was right about one thing. She was free, and she could do whatever she wanted. “I’d rather die.”
Chapter 9
N ikodemus smelled pizza when he came in with Durian. The whole business with the phone and the yelling was an annoying fuckup. Durian had called to report no progress and then dropped his phone in the john, hence the screams of anguish before everything cut off.
“The witch still here?” Durian said.
“Yeah.” Good, he thought, smelling the extra garlic and basil. At least Carson had had something to eat. The imps were jumpy, but considering Magellan’s not-really-a-witch was in the house, no wonder. She amped him up, too.
“You sure?” Durian had been all over the city, and he still looked like he’d just stepped out of the pages of GQ.
He was sure, except, actually, he couldn’t feel her. Not a thing. An exhausted human could do that, sleep so hard he couldn’t be felt. “She’s probably asleep on the couch, dead to the world. She’s had a hard couple of days. Makes sense she’d fall asleep after getting some food in her stomach.”
“Sure.”
She wasn’t in the front room.
But a quarter of a large pizza and two bottles of beer sat on the coffee table. The television was on with the sound off, frozen on a scene from Mortal Kombat. One of the beers was empty. The other one hadn’t been touched. Not more than a sip or two at best. Cold. Not icy anymore, but still cold.
Durian picked up her purse. Black leather, battered and shapeless, the stitching coming loose. “This hers?”
“Yes.” From the corner of his eye, he saw a red dot on the floor. His pulse shot up to two hundred. A drop of blood. Just one, a perfect circle on the floor. He knelt by the droplet. Not fresh enough to be warm, not old enough to be dry. He touched the drop and brought his finger to his tongue. Carson’s blood, no question. Even stale, the taste worked on him. He let his body react, and his magic roared to life. He didn’t do anything to bring it down. The imps chittered loudly.
“What is it?” Durian asked.
“Carson’s gone.” The house was empty. No mage. No Carson Philips. No talisman, either. An uneasy feeling settled on him. That drop of blood suggested too much that wasn’t pleasant. “I don’t feel another fiend, do you?”
“No.” He felt Durian go on alert, gathering his magic, letting the constraints of a human body dissolve enough to pull additional power. Nikodemus had already done the same. A sweep of the house didn’t take long.
“Looks like your little witch robbed you blind,” Durian said when the two of them stood in front of the empty niche. Nikodemus tried pretending the talisman was still there, but his indulgence lasted about three seconds before the disaster sank in. The thought of a mage with the kind of power the talisman would confer turned his blood to ice.
“No, she didn’t.” His defense of her came out without him even thinking about it. Now, that was a shock, to realize how strongly he felt about the witch. Well, fuck Durian’s attitude.
“She’s on her way to Magellan right now,” Durian said. “Or else off by herself, killing one of the kin on her own.”
“I want to know what happened here,” Nikodemus said. “Then I want to find her.” There was no way she could crack the talisman on her own. She couldn’t. And he just didn’t believe she’d go running back to Magellan. No way.
Durian bent on one knee, examining the floor. “You got fooled, Warlord. That’s what happened.”
“Only another fiend could have gotten through my wards.” Durian didn’t argue, because it was true. “And since we didn’t feel so much as an echo of a fiend here, whoever took it must be mageheld.”
“Of course. She’s a witch. She probably has dozens of magehelds at her command,” Durian said. He looked over his shoulder at Nikodemus. “She
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