Not that it would do me any good at the moment, because she simply wasn't close enough.
She placed the larger bowl on the floor, shifting it several times until she was satisfied, then rose and looked at me. "Don't you wonder how I'm about to kill you?"
I snorted softly. "Lady, dead is dead, no matter which way it comes at you."
Besides, she'd already told me she was going to bleed me. It said a lot about her state of mind that she couldn't actually remember that.
"That, I'm sorry to say, is very true."
She didn't look sorry. She looked positively ecstatic. She raised the smaller bowl and scooped her fingers inside, gathering a handful of the powder before throwing it down the length of my body. It took every ounce of control I had not to react, not to show my hand just yet. Truth was, she still wasn't close enough. I just had to hope the dust didn't do its stuff as well as it was supposed to.
The thick cloud settled around me, clogging my eyes and making my nose twitch. And it smelled even fouler than before. My body began tingling even as my muscles seemed to relax and feel oddly weak. Like before, only worse. I twitched my fingers, wriggled my toes. Response was slow, but it was there, at least for the moment. I had to hope it remained that way.
She grabbed another handful and threw it over me again. The tingling increased, and deep down, the wolf bared her teeth and roared to life. Her strength infused me, battling the sleepiness creeping over my body, keeping it at bay if not away altogether.
"If you have any questions, you'd better ask them quickly. It's a much stronger formula this time." Her voice was conversational-like we were best friends rather than mad sorceress and intended victim. "You taught me that this powder doesn't work as well on humans and other nonhumans as it does vampires, so I guess its better to be safe than sorry."
I could only hope she was wrong about the strength of the formula. But I asked my questions quickly, just in case she wasn't. "Did Jessica tell you she sent one of her creatures after the street kid?"
"She was in the room when that blackmailing little bastard rang. Personally, I would rather have taken care of him myself."
I bet. "Then the business cards you gave the teenagers were infused with some form of tracking magic?"
"Of course. How else would I have known exactly where to transport myself?"
She gave me a serene sort of smile, then turned away and walked back to the table. I twitched my extremities again, and was relieved to discover that everything that should wriggle did. The mix might be stronger, it might make the tingling fiercer, but it still wasn't completely freezing me. Which made me wonder if the mix was wrong, or whether the fact that I was a half-breed was fouling the reaction.
She returned carrying the knife. I didn't move, just watched her. To have any sort of chance against the woman, I needed her to get closer. Needed to grab that knife and use it against her flesh rather than mine.
She grabbed my right arm and pulled it away from my body. The arm was numb, so it flopped around like so much dead flesh, and she made a satisfied sound in the back of her throat. I held my tongue and didn't say anything, hopefully giving her the impression the powder had done its work and stolen the power of speech.
With my arm positioned on its side and presumably over the bowl, she clasped the ornate silver knife with both hands and raised it above her head.
Fear slithered through me. The mad bitch was going to cut off my arm. Why else would she need that much leverage to cut flesh? A quick slice along the forearm from the wrist was all it took to get a decent bleed-and yeah, werewolves were tough, but we still had skin like a regular human, not a rhinoceros.
She began to murmur, the words incomprehensible. Maybe it was sorcerer talk, maybe it was a prayer in some old language. I didn't really care, because my attention was on the gleaming knife being held above my body. I'd get only one chance at stopping that knife. Once she realized I was partially free, she'd no doubt either knock me out or kill me, and I wasn't overly thrilled with either option.
She continued to murmur and tension wound through me, tightening my muscles and making my stomach ache. The pain in my shoulder seemed to have retreated, but not the numbness. It was now creeping outward, reaching toward my neck. If I didn't remove the bullet soon, I'd be in real trouble.
The words stopped. For a moment that knife didn't move, just stayed high above me, glittering brightly in the semilight of the room.
Then it came down.
Fast.
I barely caught it. Whether it was the dust she'd sprinkled over me or the weakness washing though my body thanks to the silver, the fact was, the blade was inches from my flesh when I stopped it.
And I didn't stop it by the hilt, but by the blade itself, and the metal sliced into my flesh as easily as butter. Blood seeped past my clenched fingers and began to run into the bowl under my right hand. I didn't care. I ripped the weapon from her fingers, flipped the blade, and stabbed her.
But again I was too slow. She moved at the last moment, and the blow meant to pierce her heart got her in the side instead. A nasty wound, but not a deadly one.
She grunted and staggered backward, once again out of my reach. She slapped one hand against the wound, but it didn't stop the bleeding.
"For that," she hissed, "you will die horribly."
She raised her free hand and blue sparks began to dance across her fingertips. I drew back the knife, taking aim, knowing it was a risk to lose my one weapon but having little choice.
But before I could release the blade, something hit the door-hard-and the whole frame shuddered. Hanna spun as the door took another blow, and this time the wood splintered. She lunged for the table, her fingers grasping for the second knife as another blow hit the door, and this time it gave way.