Page 59 (1/2)

In an instant I understood what I should have comprehended earlier Way earlier The usualwasn’t a vamp and never had been A vaht it in to a blood-fanized my blood scent Instead, a skinwalker had eaten the liver of a va his native scent; he had eaten Immanuel, Leo’s son, and taken his place The reek of rot filled the hallway

Statue dust rained down Theh a storm of stone projectiles Immanuel lashed out One h my leather jacket Sliced flesh beneath deeply I sucked in a scream

"Stop!" The word echoed with power Witchy power The walls rippled at the purpose and intent of the single syllable Power bo my breath Off balance, I fell to the floor and bounced, muscles frozen, stopped

Immanuel, on one knee, at the apex of his swipe, stopped I realized it hadn’t been Ihts flickered A human I hadn’t seen stood at the end of the hallway, immobile, panicked Footsteps trod up the stairs, soft in the carpet I remembered the cars I passed, people inside Crap The cavalry had nearly been here when I arrived--witches "Stop," the voice said again, softer, closer, strengthening the spell Beast raged in ht

My hands sizzled with heat and electric agony I’d been hit with a spell before, and I understood that to resist was to ainst the corips My hands fell open My body relaxed The Benelli thumped softly to the carpet; the charm lay exposed in my palht

The rogue/skinwalker began to slowly sink to the floor, fighting the co a fraction of an inch at a tiies were used to bind him I looked around, able to move only my eyes I couldn’t even breathe beyond a shallow intake of air, not nearly what I needed in the interrupted afterue was similarly trapped Neither of us could rew closer I heard others behind theether

The cole syllable It was an intricate spell, a general, all-purpose, spoken word--a wyrd--wrapped around a spell, intended to stop all kinetic energy, except the speaker’s oithin a predeter to relax, trying not to fight for the breath I so desperately needed Everything around ht and sharp, aue, where the silvery energies began to tighten and constrict as he fought the forces bearing down on him

The witch moved into view Antoine Behind him was the woman I had seen in the Royal Mojo Blues Club in the secreteasily, hu skirt swaying Antoine stood before her, his locks tied back, curiosity on his face He earing sneakers, a button-down shirt open at the collar, and threadbare jeans A half dozen or so wicked-sharp blades were strapped at his belt, blades with steel and green stone handles His cooking knives I wanted to giggle but I didn’t have the breath My sight was growing darker at the edges, a sign of oxygen deprivation I needed to breathe Soon A glance at the liver-eater showed his face ashen His eyes livid

Antoine pulled a knife as he advanced on the rogue, who still wore the beautiful face of Leo’s son But, like the walls that had rippled at Antoine’s wyrd, and the air that held too ue was tiring, his exhaustion draining his control; he was losing his focus The rot stench intensified His skull bones took on an odd fusion of features, part human, part lion, while his skin slipped from hue to hue, a coppery, olive, pale, tawny pelt patchwork underlain with sickly, yellowed skin and pustules His hair slid from blond to ashy brown to black with scraps of pelt His flesh--the snake in his bones--wanted to return to its Cherokee forinal pattern, while his intent and fear pushed his body toward other forhtened; his hair flowed black and long His eyes went from a tint so dark they looked black, to a softer tone, yellowish, like , he turned those eyes, those so-faain flared there He saw Beast within me, close to the surface, barely harnessed He hissed in a breath so hoarse it sounded as if he breathed in through glue

Antoinein the air He knelt beside Immanuel, one knee on the carpet, close to my face I could see the frayed seam in the deniether The rogue was trying to take over Leo’s position of power, using Grégoire’s form and monies to buy land for his new clan In a perfect position to carry out his plan, he was the one creating instability in vamp politics Like I said before, could I be any ht be you," Antoine said Immanuel’s eyes flitted to hi up all the land, we thought it was the wo control of her clan, or seeking to begin a new clan-fawithin the outstretched claws of the rogue "Or, we think perhaps it was Blood-master Arceneau, eh? You lead us to think that, yes? The ‘traveling in Europe’ was ruse? You have him, Arceneau, bound in silver, stash him somewhere?" He chuckled at whatever he saw in Im about you becoue, the liver-eater, twitched a claw Only a fraction At theOh crap The char to my fear and Antoine’s spell They were intended to protect me Clearly at least one of the to react The burning increased, gathering, intensifying in the center of ed a gasp, soft, almost silent

Neither of the two looked ue’s paw, one finger on the tip of a claw "I don’ knohat you are,time pass Decades, maybe You steal Immanuel shape, yes? And this sabertooth shape How you do that? You kill a witch and take her power? Yes? No? No matter Your time here done I no miss de heart, like dis petite chat"