Part 22 (1/2)

A bolt of fear washed through Chase's eyes. ”He's still alive?”

I was about to speak when a voice from the stairs answered for me.

”No, they haven't been able to kill me,” the voice said. ”Just like you weren't able to fight me. You tried your best, Detective, but you couldn't do a thing when I was holding you down. When I made you kiss my feet.”

Karvanak was standing there, in his Calvin Klein suit and polished shoes, his wraparound sungla.s.ses hiding the cruelty in his eyes. The light glinted off his shaved head, and he gave me a soft smile.

”Mistress Cat, you've stolen my toy. Haven't you heard what curiosity does to kittens? I suppose I'll have to teach you. And Fraale, you dare to turn on me? Both you and Vanzir will live in my h.e.l.l for a long, long, long time, and you're going to rue every moment of every day that you still draw breath.”

And then, in back of him, a tall man appeared. Dressed in a long, black robe, he looked vaguely Chinese, but it was hard to place his background. This was no biker, no FBH thug. No, power drifted off of him in waves, setting off an internal alarm that shrieked so loud I thought I was going to scream.

And then I knew-somehow I knew. I stared at the creature who looked so human but was so far from humanity that there was no center point on the line where the two could meet. One of the Scytatians, summoned from the deepest bowels of the Netherworld. A Scythe Reaper. A Scythe Reaper.

Karvanak nodded, looking pleased. ”Oh, yes, be afraid. I know who you are, Death Maiden, and I know that you're young. You can't hope to fight a Scytatian, and neither can your friends.”

I stood frozen in my tracks, the tattoo on my forehead s.h.i.+fting and pulsating in response to the being's appearance.

Never moving my gaze, I said to the others, ”Scytatians are from the realm of Death, the realm of the Harvestmen. I know this in my core. I can feel feel him. None of you can fight him-only me. And only because I have a direct connection to the realm of the Netherworld, so if I fall, get the f.u.c.k out of here. Because I guarantee you, if that thing touches you, it will rip out your heart and swallow it as a snack.” him. None of you can fight him-only me. And only because I have a direct connection to the realm of the Netherworld, so if I fall, get the f.u.c.k out of here. Because I guarantee you, if that thing touches you, it will rip out your heart and swallow it as a snack.”

And so we stood for what seemed like an eternity, waiting for that moment when the dam breaks and the battle begins.

CHAPTER 27.

Every battle is different. Every fight has its own spirit. Every haunted battlefield is rife with not only ghosts of the dead but the soul of the battle. And just so, every sword has a consciousness. Every blade, a name. Sometimes steel and silver remain silent until they are gently coaxed out of hiding. Sometimes they never reveal themselves. And sometimes, they wake up on their own.

My dagger tingled in my hand as I stared at the Scytatian. I sucked in my breath. Could it be? My blade had never spoken to me before, but now I heard the whisper of a woman's voice, delicate and ethereal and cold as ice.

”Lysanthra,” she whispered. ”I am Lysanthra. And I am your blade.”

Without moving my gaze, I answered as silently as the message had reached my ears. ”I am Delilah. I'm Fae, human, and Were. And . . . I'm a Death Maiden.”

I might hate the term, but I had to face it. Not only did I belong to three realms-Fae, human, and the realm of felines-but I also walked under the shadow of Death. I followed in the tracks of my master.

And with that acknowledgment, the truth I'd been hiding from for months faced me square on. No matter how much I'd tried to avoid my fate, I knew I had to face-and embrace-the person I was becoming.

Delilah, the Death Maiden. Delilah, obliterator of souls. Delilah, harvest woman of the dead.

My blade sent a bolt of energy reeling through my hand, and her gentle laughter rang in my ears. ”Your father chose well to give me to you. Wake me, Delilah. I will help you walk through the darkness. I will teach you how to grow strong and keep your soul intact when all around you is madness.”

Destiny in action. Fate on the move. ”How do I wake you up?” I asked. ”And why have you never spoken to me before?”

Lysanthra's breath tingled through my elbow, through my shoulder, into my heart. ”Only when I'm wielded by one who loves with the depth of her soul, and who fights to protect the one she loves, will I speak. You have been close to summoning me before, but today-today you fight with the desire to die rather than see the one you love destroyed.”

Chase. It had to be Chase. I It had to be Chase. I was was in love with Chase. Despite the pa.s.sion I felt for Zachary and the betrayal from Chase's lies, I still loved him. Fool? Maybe. But sometimes our hearts don't play the logic game. Sometimes the Hags of Fate like to see us squirm. in love with Chase. Despite the pa.s.sion I felt for Zachary and the betrayal from Chase's lies, I still loved him. Fool? Maybe. But sometimes our hearts don't play the logic game. Sometimes the Hags of Fate like to see us squirm.

”Tell me what to do.”

Lysanthra's voice was so delicate she might have been the tinkle of wind chimes, the delicate call of a night-roaming bird to her mate. ”Say my name three times aloud. And then I am yours. But you will not be able to kill this creature using me. For that, you must use your own powers.”

I raised the blade. The Scytatian waited, silent and brooding. Karvanak looked impatient but didn't seem in a rush to hurry things along. Smart move. The Scytatian could make mincemeat out of him in three seconds flat.

”Lysanthra, Lysanthra, Lysanthra!” I called out, raising the blade. A shaft of light burst from the tip, and I flushed, new strength flowing into my veins. Lysanthra fell silent, but I knew we were bound together.

Camille kept quiet, her gaze fixated first on my blade, then on my face. When Menolly started to speak, Camille shushed her and smiled gravely at me.

I turned back to the Scytatian and Karvanak. ”You-demon sc.u.m. You're so sure of yourself, so get your a.s.s over here and fight. The Scytatian's got your back. What are you waiting for?”

Karvanak let out a low snarl, then he s.h.i.+mmered, and his head took the form of a tiger, claws ripped from his nails, and he stepped forward.

At that moment, the sound of a freight train came whistling down the steps, and a blur of white and silver crashed into the room, knocking over the Rksasa as the whirlwind whipped down the stairs. Straight out of the Ionyc Sea, Smoky landed in a crouch and rolled to straddle the demon.

Smoky promptly began to beat the c.r.a.p out of Karvanak, but the Rksasa was strong. He managed to get a hand free and clawed at Smoky, gas.h.i.+ng the dragon across the face.

”Don't you hurt him!” Camille leapt forward, yanking out the unicorn horn. She'd used it once in the past few days. How much power did it have left?

My question was answered as a shaft of ice burst forth, like a frozen bolt of lightning, zigzagging out of the tip of the horn. The ice bolt struck Karvanak directly on the head between his ears, distracting the demon long enough for Vanzir and Menolly to dive in and help out.

Karvanak roared, lunging at Vanzir. He knocked the dream chaser down and stepped over him to get to Zachary, who was trying to protect Chase. With one hand, he backhanded Zach and sent him flying against a wall, then turned to Chase, who was still in shock.

Menolly raced across the room, but Zach was faster. He scrambled to his feet and, head down, charged directly into the center of Karvanak's stomach, driving him back. He was able to hold him off long enough for Menolly to grab Chase and pull him out of the way.

Karvanak growled and whirled, his foot squarely landing against Zach's lower back, sending him to the floor. Smoky dove in, but then my attention wavered as I noticed the Scytatian bearing down on me.

I had no doubt it intended to kill everyone in this room. Once we were all toast, if Karvanak was still alive, my guess would be that he'd find himself next on the menu. Summoning spirits-even for a demon-never worked out quite the way it was planned.

I sheathed Lysanthra and focused on the swirling energy that pulsated a staccato throbbing beneath my tattoo.

”Hi'ran,” I whispered. ”Help me. I need you. I need your power. I need your strength.”

A faint laugh, carried on the wind along with bonfire flames and graveyard dust drifted by. ”I'm sending you help. Let go and change. Only you can kill this creature. Your sisters will die if you don't.”

And so I unleashed Panther. Hands to paw, spine lengthening, ears pointing, teeth growing long and sharp, fur coating my palms, coating my legs, coating arms and face and back . . . the world was bathed in gray scale as scents grew stronger, urges grew more difficult to control.

As the transformation fully took hold, I let myself flow into the opulent energy that imbued my Panther self. I sucked in a deep breath as mist rose around me, and I found myself facing the Scytatian. Everyone else had vanished, and once again, I was fighting alone, on the astral.

The creature had been cloaked in shadow-difficult to get a bead on when I'd been in my bipedal form-but now I could see him clearly for what he was: an avatar of Death. The shadows were gone, and he stood there in brilliant white, s.h.i.+ning like magma working its way up to the surface of the world.

The Scytatian shone so brilliantly, he was difficult to look at, but my third eyelid shaded my eyes from harm, and I slowly moved forward. If I'd been a regular Were, my claws would not touch him, my teeth would bounce off. But with the energy of the Autumn Lord behind me, I had the power to defeat the being from the Netherworld.

I crouched as the Scytatian approached. One . . . let it get close enough . . . two . . . wriggle into just the right position and then-pounce! I grappled him with my front paws. For a fraction of a second, I felt my essence being coaxed out of my body as he sucked me into his energy field, but then I yanked myself back. He stumbled, just the briefest moment, but enough to tell me he hadn't expected my strength.

And then we were wrestling. He took me down, his strength phenomenal. It was all I could do to keep him from squeezing me to death. If he got his arms around my neck, I'd be screwed for sure. I leaned my head back and drove my fangs deep into his shoulder as we rolled along the floor.

And then I made a mistake. I let go of him to try for a better grip.