Broken (Otherworld 6)

I turned my back to the wall, then threw open the door. The stink of cleaning chemicals hit me. I peered inside. Just a closet--so jammed with janitorial equipment even Hull couldn't have squeezed inside.

As I closed the door, something rustled in the main room. Had Hull somehow retreated there while I'd been checking the other rooms? But how? He couldn't get past without--

Witch magic.

I cursed under my breath. Unlock spells were simple witch magic, and most sorcerers never bothered to master more than that, but they could learn stronger witch magic, like cover spells. I could have walked right past Hull and not known it unless he'd moved or I'd bumped into him.

I scanned the main room. All had gone silent. Of course it had. Hull had found a new spot, and cast his spell again. So why change places and risk making noise? Because he wanted me to hear him, to know he was there, and to keep searching.

Hull hadn't "accidentally" backed himself into this basement. He lured me in, and now he was teasing me while his spell power recharged enough to take me down--kill me if necessary, here in an empty basement where he could take what he wanted from me without fear of interruption.

My hands shot to my stomach. I had to get out of here. The impulse surprised me. Any other time, I'd have been hell-bent on showing this bastard he couldn't beat me, that I wouldn't be a victim. But now "showing him" didn't enter my mind.

I made my way slowly across the room, each step deliberate, gaze swinging from side to side, nostrils flaring as if searching, but my focus fixed on that exit doorway.

Footsteps clomped onto the stairs. Heavy footsteps, coming down. Nick? My heart leapt. With Nick I wouldn't have to run. We could flush out Hull and finish this--

The footsteps faltered as if he'd tripped and caught himself before falling. I hurried forward. If Nick was still hurt, then we were both getting out of here.

I rounded the doorway before I noticed the heavy stink of rotting flesh. I looked up to see the bowler-hatted zombie staggering down the stairs, knife in hand.

My heart sank, but I shook it off. This would do. Get the zombie in here, and I could run for reinforcements while he kept Hull busy.

"He's in here," I said. "He's using magic to hide, but he's here--"

The zombie's eyes met mine. I leapt aside just in time, as he barreled down the final steps, knife raised like a bayonet.

I backpedaled into the main room. The zombie faltered, as if still struggling under dueling orders. Then he shot forward. I backed up and smacked into the first table. As he came at me, I swung onto the table top, sliding across the slick surface and nearly tumbling off the other side.

"Elena!" Jaime's voice, from the top of the stairs.

"Down--"

The zombie's knife arced my way. I shimmied back along the tabletop, out of the knife's reach, then pushed to my feet. I turned, planning to leap to the next table. Then I saw Hull, across the room, face drawn in concentration as he warred for the zombie, the effort too much for him to continue casting the cover spell.

Our eyes met. He lifted his hand in a knockback spell, which would send me sailing right into the zombie. I kicked fast and low, keeping my balance. My foot connected with the side of the zombie's head just as Hull's spell hit me. The zombie went down. So did I--the spell sending me flying over him, so fast that I could barely protect my stomach.

I hit the floor in an awkward tumble, teeth clamping down on my tongue. As I scrambled up, Hull raised his hands in a second cast, his lips forming the words. Then he stopped, face darkening, lips forming a silent curse.

"Not quite able to muster enough juice, hmm?" I said, spitting as I tasted blood. I swiped my hand over my mouth.

Hull restarted his incantation.

"I hope that's nothing stronger than a knockback spell," I said as I advanced on him. "Or it's not going to work. Witch magic is tough on sorcerers, and you've already OD'd. But you know that, don't you? You can feel it."

Hull's lips twisted in a humorless smirk, but he said nothing.

"Maybe a hundred years ago, you could have done it, but you're still recuperating from an unexpectedly long incarceration. An incarceration that proves you're far from perfect...and too dumb to realize it."

He

snarled, and lifted his hands. Then he stopped before even beginning the incantation. I was now within fifteen feet of him. Just a little closer...

Hull looked over his shoulder.

"No escape there," I said. "It's a dead end."

I charged. Hull's hands went up, lips moving, but he'd never have time--