Wulver’s lips turned up. He turned to Fallon and arched his eyebrow. “That only leaves making some new friends to help us out tonight. Can you handle it?”
It was in the form of a question, but there was an undeniable order underneath that. Fallon nodded. “Of course. I’m always up for making new friends.”
The acolyte watched them, a fervent gleam in his eye. “What makes you think I’ll talk to you and abandon my Master?”
“Trust me. You don’t have a choice,” said Wulver.
“But I think I do.” And the acolyte stuck out his tongue and bit clean through. The pink fleshy nub fell to the ground and spurts of blood squirted from his mouth.
Before the tongue hit the ground Fallon pulled out a knife from a sheath on the outside of her thigh. “Laire, fire.”
Laire complied, and Fallon’s knife went red-hot. Fallon grabbed the acolyte’s head with her other hand and forced his mouth open, bringing the knife against his gushing tongue, burning lips and cheeks and any other skin that lay in the way and sent the smell of burning flesh wafting through the air.
The man flailed and wrenched and shrieked, but in long moments his wound was closed.
Wulver watched. When it was done, he turned to the mage “You need to bring Kyo. You would be fastest.”
Laire’s face tightened and a hurt, almost betrayed expression crossed her features for a brief moment. But then it smoothed into a mask, and she disappeared.
Fallon still had her hand wrapped around the acolyte’s jaw, and she pulled the man close, her fingers digging into his skin, making him wince. “A necromancer wannabe not able to kill himself? I’m ashamed for you.” She twisted his head, studying the work of her knife. “You should have kept your tongue, because now the Psy Master is going to rip into your mind.”
He whimpered. She loosened her grip and leaned close to whisper in his ear. “Don’t worry. If you’re still alive after he’s through with you, I’ll take pity on you and kill you. I have enough compassion that I won’t let you live like that.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
‡
Terak searched Larissa’s apartment. Each pass plucked the ever-tightening string of fear that wound around his heart.
They had her. Somehow they had used a magic even he was not immune to and could not see through and had taken her from her books and her children. He spoke to Olivia, who informed him she had not seen Larissa since lunch. Olivia called Larissa’s father and brothers who also did not know Larissa’s whereabouts, and reported that information back to Terak.
It was now, when his mate was in danger, Terak understood the value of Clan, the slice-cut of being alone. He had no one to turn to who could help him save her.
Larissa’s door opened, and Fallon entered, cloaked with her customary assurance. Her sword hilt shone bright above her shoulder and her movements placed her where she could draw freely.
The quick-rise of anger flooded his muscles, expanding them with desire to destroy the warrior before him, but long-fought-for control held him still. “If you have her, I’ll kill you.”
“If I had her, I wouldn’t be here.” She took a step toward him, still out of reach, still with her sword at the ready. “Did you know why they wanted her?”
Assured Fallon was, but there was a harsh tension in the lines of eyes and mouth and shoulders that not even battles with orcs and wargs had engendered. Something was out of her control, something frightening, and Fallon was readying herself for a life-altering battle.
The string around his heart pulled tight in a snap and severed the organ in his chest, the destruction leaving him unable to breathe. “Where is she?”
Fallon made no comment on the weak and pitiable sound, but her head tilted as she studied him. “She’s a null,” the swordswoman said after long moments. “They brought her in and used her to tear through our security. Years of magic cast by the greatest of mages, and tissue paper would have given her more of a challenge.”
“Nulls are beings of myth.”
“Really? Maybe you should tell that to my dead.” Fallon’s body shifted in her anger, but within a moment she was back to her original stance. “There’s more. They’re sacrificing her tonight to raise the Four Demons.”
Sacrifice.
Sacrifice.
Sacrifice.
He rushed at Fallon and grabbed the swordswoman by the throat. “Tell me where she is!”
Fallon’s eyes bore into his, molten gold surrounded by fire, and under his hand a peculiar warmth, a current of power traveling over her skin. “Get your hand off me or lose it.”
His hand loosened but did not let go. “Tell me.”