“At least hide,” Kim said, despair in his voice. It was obvious he couldn’t help her without paying for his actions later anyway—and Angela understood his reasoning. Her death would be a blow, but not as terrible as one from Troy. He must have gone through this enough times that hoping for the best was no longer an option. “What the hell are you doing—”
“Time’s up.” The Jinn dropped from the darkness, a maelstrom of feathers and incredible menace, leaving Angela less than a breath to dodge her. But Troy was enjoying the chase, and she let her escape, toying with her like a cat.
Angela backed into the corner where Fury had been tugging at her prize.
Maribel’s corpse knocked into her boots. She was half eaten, her rib cage exposed, and such a mess of blood that it was impossible to stare without throwing up. Angela choked down the bile rising into her mouth, desperately trying to regain her sanity. Troy continued to pace nearer and nearer, her expression now more business than games. For all her nasty sarcasm, she took murder seriously. Like Kim said, there would be no apologies.
She’s just like any other predator. Beautiful and a hundred times smarter, but still a predator. Even if she’s immortal, she can die. She has weaknesses, limitations.
The problem would be figuring them out in the space of a few seconds.
She remembered Kim’s own attempt to save himself.
Latin. It hurts her.
But Angela didn’t know any Latin. Except . . .
Anything. Anything is better than nothing.
“Omnes relinquite spes,” Angela shouted.
Troy shuddered like she’d been rapped on the knuckles. Her lip quivered up again, revealing her glistening teeth. “That was uncalled for,” she said, still advancing, though slower than before.
Bind her. You can Bind her to yourself.
But how?
You know how . . . you made the Rules, after all.
These thoughts. They had her voice, her inflections—yet—
Angela gasped. It took less than a moment, but in that blinding flash of time she held Kim’s book again, gazing into the pages where the illustration of the Jinn gazed back at her, dark and terrible. The Binding. Its every word and intricate detail hovered before her anew, completely and mysteriously understandable, as if she’d known the ritual forever, merely forgetting for a convenient length of time.
As if she’d written the words herself.
A hideous growl interrupted her vision.
Troy bounded across the gap between them and lifted into the air, descending with her wings wide and her hand pulled back, ready to strike. One blow would be enough to push Angela out of the picture permanently.
But now Angela was ready.
She grabbed a bone shard lying on the floor, lifting it just in time to collapse beneath Troy’s fury, her strong, relentless wing beats. Angela was almost crushed, given no space to breathe, the Jinn’s sharp nails biting through the thin fabric of her blouse. Blood welled beneath them, soaking into the cloth and warming her skin, but she’d made her mark. Troy’s hand had been sliced wickedly along the palm.
The Jinn wrenched the makeshift knife from her hand. It clattered across the floor, unreachable.
Then the world was feathers, shadows, and pain. The worst Angela had ever felt.
She fought off her dizziness and pressed the Jinn’s bony hand tighter to the blood on her chest.
“You are Bound,” she hissed back at Troy.
They were face-to-face, and the Jinn’s eyes narrowed in rage. She attempted to free herself, but Angela held her tight, as if they were lovers. She was literally embracing Death, and Death would either be hers or rip her heart out if she made a single mistake.
“You are Bound, and I am the one Binding you. We are One now in blood, according to the Law.”
This sounds right. It’s right.
“The Creature is under my command. To assist when I ask in my need, to destroy when I demand to be avenged—”
“You’re done, you bitch,” Troy screamed at her, nightmarish with rage.
Yet her strength wasn’t what it had been before. Angela’s words were draining her.
Angela wrestled her tighter, locking her violently like she was a dog beneath a chokehold. Troy’s voice was weaker now, but just as deadly. “I told you,” she screeched to Kim, “that she should die. She’s a danger—”
“To be released,” Angela murmured into her long ear, “when I request death at last.”
Troy stiffened, frozen by her words. A deep quiet filled the Bell Attic, and they gazed into each other’s eyes, both of them overwhelmed by the invisible tethers connecting their souls. Then Angela let her go, and Troy backed away, injured within and without. Her expression was that of a person violated. If Angela ever did release her, they both knew she’d be destined to die just as the Binding had warned. She now had a guardian, but one tied to her by force rather than affection—and she could barely explain how it had happened.