The Faerie Prince (Creepy Hollow, #2) by rachel morgan Page A

can’t have some fun with you. Shall we see what kind of fun we can have when we get back to my room at the palace?”
    “You’re disgusting,” Ryn growls, appearing suddenly beside up. “And if you’re looking for your magical bat, it’s currently crammed inside a clay jar.” And with that he brings his fist up to meet Savyon’s chin.
    The Unseelie Prince loses his grip on me as his head snaps back. He stumbles away, regains his footing, and levels his gaze at us. “You know you can’t defeat me without magic,” he says with a maniacal laugh. He points his right hand at Ryn; the gesture is almost lazy, but the black sparks that shoot toward Ryn are powerful enough to knock him off his feet and into the air. When he hits the ground, he doesn’t move.
    Crap. Is he okay? I need to check, but Savyon has set a new whirlwind into motion. Broken items lift off the ground and begin to swirl around me, trapping me in their funnel. I grab onto a stray piece of vine, then force my way out of the mini tornado, shielding my face with my arms. Tiny cuts sting my skin. My hand burns where the vine leaves touch it, but I’m not letting go of my only weapon. I lash out at Savyon, using the vine like a whip. The end catches him across the cheek. He grunts in anger as I snap the makeshift whip a second time. His hand flashes out and he grabs the end of the vine. He tugs me forward, but I let go just in time.
    “Come here!” he shouts. He reaches into the air with fingernails painted black. Against my will, I find myself skidding over the floor toward him. I try to fight it, but I just end up falling over. I see light glimmering off a sharp edge and grab onto the shard of blue glass as I slide past it. The jagged edge slices into my already burning palm. But I can’t think about the pain right now. As I crash into Savyon’s booted feet, I raise my arm to stab the glass into his leg. He kicks my arm aside, and the glass goes flying. I throw myself after it, but he grabs my legs and yanks me back. My scrabbling fingers reach desperately for the glass, but I’m already being pulled away. Savyon drags me across the floor and flings me around so that my body slams into the side of the couch.
    Pain!
    I try desperately to suck some air into my lungs as I look around for something, anything, I can use as a weapon. Then I see it—the handle end of the broken broomstick. With all the strength I can muster, I reach out and wrap my blood-covered fingers around the wood. Savyon grabs my waist, flings me over onto my back—and I shove the splintered end deep into his abdomen, just below his ribcage.
    He gurgles and chokes as I kick him away from me. Still gasping for air, I get to my feet and stumble over to Ryn. I shake him, then slap his cheek a few times with my non-bloodied hand. “Get . . . up,” I manage to say as my breath returns to me. I shake him some more, accidently spreading blood across his white shirt. “Come on, Ryn, we have to get out of here.”
    Nothing.
    I lean over and speak right into his ear. “Please, please, please get up. I can’t leave without you.”
    Nothing.
    Then I see movement behind his eyelids, and he suddenly jerks awake. “What—how did—” He blinks as his gaze travels over me. “You look awful. Are you okay?”
    I feel pretty awful. In fact, little sparks of light that I’m pretty sure aren’t real are beginning to dance in front of my eyes. “I’m fine.” I blink a few times as I stand up and tug his arm. “We have to run. Now!”
    He jumps up and heads for the passage, pulling me after him. I hear Savyon shouting behind us, and I run as fast as my injured body will allow. I should be in a lot of pain, but adrenaline seems to be masking most of it—for now.
    We run up the stairs and into Mr. Hart’s study, which looks like a hurricane hit it. The window has been shattered, and torn books and broken furniture litter the floor. Smoke catches in my throat, and I can hear screaming