For a Few Demons More(145)

Ignoring him, Ceri turned to Quen. “You hesitated to attack Rachel at first. Why?”

Quen blinked, clearly not expecting this. “Rachel’s strongest defensive abilities are in her physical skills, not her magic,” he said, his gravelly voice blending beautifully with Ceri’s smooth, perfect tones. “I’m proficient with both, and it wouldn’t be honorable to defeat her using something she can’t defend against when I can assert my will where she has a chance to meet me equally.”

From my shoulder came Jenks’s loud comment, “Piss on my daisies, I knew there was something I liked about the little cookie maker.”

“That’s important to you?” Ceri questioned regally, ignoring Jenks’s comment.

Quen dropped his head, but his eyes were unrepentant from beneath his dark bangs. Trent shifted his feet. I knew it was a ploy to bring her attention to him, but Ceri smiled at Quen. “There is a spark of us left,” she said, then took a breath as if readying herself for a difficult task.

Outside, pixies plastered themselves against the glass, and I felt a stab of nervousness when Ceri returned her focus to Trent. Seeing them together, I was struck by how much they looked alike. Their hair was that same fine, almost-transparent blond, their features both had the same delicate yet firm cast. Slim without losing strength. Strength without sacrificing beauty.

“I’ve been watching you for some time,” Ceri said softly. “You’re very confusing. Very confused. You have forgotten nothing, but you don’t know how to use it.”

Trent’s expression almost hid his anger. Almost. “Mal Sa’han—”

Ceri’s breath hissed, and she dropped back a step, dress furling to show her bare feet. “Don’t,” she said, complexion a delicate rose. “Not from you.”

Quen twitched when she reached for her waistband, and she froze him with a look as she pulled a swab in a torn cellophane package from it. I recognized it as one of mine. “I came to give you this,” she said, handing it to Trent. “But since I have your attention…”

Jenks’s wings made spurts of cool wind on my neck, and the tension escalated. Ceri tapped a line, and her hair shifted in a breeze that touched only her. I thought I sensed a metallic taste on my tongue. My face cold, I looked over the sanctuary as if expecting a demon to melt into existence, but then my gaze fell upon Ceri, and I blanched.

“Holy crap…” Jenks breathed, his wings going absolutely motionless.

Ceri had gone deathly still, gathering intent and power about her as if supplementing her damaged aura. Her undeniable beauty was like that of a fairy, savage and pale, face hollow, hard, and unyielding. Quen didn’t move as she closed in on Trent, near enough that her hair mingled with his. Near enough that she could pull his aura into her as she breathed.

“I am black,” she said, and a shudder rippled through me. “I am foul with a thousand years of demon curses. Don’t cross me or I will bring you and your house down. Rachel is the only clean thing I have, and you won’t sully her to further your high ideas. Understand?”

A hard expression replaced Trent’s shock, reminding me of who he was and what he was capable of. “You’re not who I though you would be,” he said, and Ceri let a cruel smile curve the corners of her mouth.

“I’m your worst nightmare come to walk this side of the lines. I’m an elf, Trent, something you’ve forgotten how to be. You’re scared of black magic. I can see fear shimmering under your aura like sweat. I live and breathe black magic. I’m so tainted with it that I will use it without thought, without guilt, and without hesitation.”

She stepped forward into his space, and Trent moved back. “Leave Rachel alone,” she said, the words soft as rain and as commanding as a god’s.

Ceri reached to touch him, and in a blinding fast motion, Quen bolted forward.

I took a breath to shout a warning, but Ceri spun, hurling a black ball of ever-after. “Finire!”

“Ceri!” I exclaimed, then cowered when it hit the circle Quen flung up and exploded into black sparkles.

Clearly ticked, Ceri strode to Quen, Latin spilling from her like black smoke. “Quis custodiet ipsos custodies?” she said wrathfully, then plunged a tiny white fist into his circle.

Quen stared in shock as his circle fell.

“Finire,” Ceri said tightly, reaching for him, and when Quen grasped her wrist to do something, he froze, then dropped to the hardwood floor, out cold.

“Holy crap!” Jenks chirped from the rafters, and Ceri looked away from Quen. Anger made her pale beauty terrible.