The Spirit Thief(91)

I rather like you this way, she murmured, tracing the bridge of his nose. Broken and helpless. It reminds me of when I first found you. That time, you accepted me with open arms.

“Time is a fickle master,” Eli said, closing his eyes against the light. “He changes many things.”

You’re full of sayings today. The disembodied hand brushed past his lips and slid down his neck to his chest, tapping the gaping wound the stones had torn open when he hit the wall, just below Karon’s burn. Eli sucked in a breath when she touched the ragged skin, and he felt her chuckle against his skin. Your time is about to end, if you stay like this. Such a pity, I hate watching you squander my gifts. Her white fingers moved in circles along his rib cage, tracing the bloodstains on his torn shirt. Of course, her voice slid seductively along his ear, I could help you, if you asked nicely.

Eli turned away. “Do what you want, Benehime.”

She laughed gleefully as he said her name, and a second disembodied hand snaked through the white opening to join the first. Her palms slid over his open wound and, still laughing, she pressed down. Overwhelming pain lanced though Eli’s body, darkening his vision and slamming his teeth together. It was as if every wound, bruise, cramp, and discomfort from the past twelve hours was happening again, only all at once, and amplified. He gasped and tried to jerk away, but Benehime’s hands pinned him to the icy floor as surely as if he were nailed there. The pain went on and on, until he was sure it would never end and he would be stuck like this forever. Then, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, it stopped. The pressure lifted from his chest and breath thundered back into his body.

As he lay on his back in the shallow water, gasping like a landed fish, Benehime’s white hands moved to cup his cheeks. Next time, I’ll make you beg, she murmured, trailing her burning touch across his skin one last time before drawing her hands back through the white cut in the air. I will see you soon, my favorite star.

The white line faded with her voice, leaving Eli staring at the empty air. It took a few moments more for her overwhelming presence to fade completely, and as his soul righted itself, he realized he could barely feel Miranda’s spirit at all anymore.


Miranda was on her hands and knees in the water beside Gin’s flank, panting. Her librarian’s outfit was dirtied beyond recognition, and her pinned hair had tumbled in a wet tangle down her neck, clinging to her skin like red seaweed caught in the tide hole of her shoulders. She was soaked and shivering, her eyes dull and weary, but she was not beaten. They were huddled in a small circle, with Josef and Nico’s heads propped on Gin’s paws to keep them from drowning in the shallow water that rode in hand-high waves across what was left of the marble floor. The fact that Gin did this without complaining was proof enough of how serious the situation was. Two feet above them, held back only by the invisible bell jar of Miranda’s open spirit, the wall of black water rippled in threatening patterns.

Mellinor surrounded them on all sides, his powerful current beating steadily against the thin bubble of Miranda’s spirit. Each time the water crashed down, she felt her mind drowning under the endless, tireless power. Each time, it pushed her right to the edge of buckling, but each time she rallied and met the crash strength for strength, keeping their tiny bubble intact for another few seconds before the next wave hit and the struggle started all over again.

In the tiny space between the surges, the grim corner of her mind that could still think on things besides mere survival wondered why she bothered to resist.

She had done well, at first. After Eli went down, she’d been able to go blow for blow with the water for a little while. The great spirit was powerful, but his imprisonment had left him slow and weak. However, the longer he spent in the open air and moonlight, the more his power returned, and as he had gained strength, Miranda had exhausted hers. Slowly, inch by inch, the great spirit had pushed her back until he washed her under entirely. Now, trapped in a bubble with her air running out, it was all she could do to survive another wave. Of course, the grim corner muttered, just surviving wasn’t winning. She wasn’t even sure what the standards of victory were in a fight like this. Even if she had been stronger, more resilient, even if she hadn’t let herself be trapped, her enemy was a great spirit of an inland sea. She could no more defeat him than she could defeat a mountain.

So why was she holding out, her doubt whispered. What hope was she trying to preserve? There was no help coming, no knight to ride to her rescue. Even if she could somehow get a message to the Spirit Court, Master Banage was the only wizard strong enough to have a chance against Mellinor, and he would never raise his soul against a great spirit, not even to save her. Hopelessness welled up in her chest, and Miranda choked back a sob, almost losing her rhythm as another wave crashed down. As she struggled to keep their last few feet of air intact, she couldn’t banish the thought that, even if she did somehow get out of this alive, Master Banage would never forgive her for fighting a great spirit. Especially seeing as she was doing it to protect two bounty-carrying criminals and a demonseed. Perhaps it would be kinder to everyone if she dropped her shield and let the water carry them away.