“Hi!” Jo said brightly, and stabbed me.
Chapter Forty-two
The only thing that saved me was my Michelin Man jacket, stuffed with a hundred ducks’ worth of down, and the matching padded overalls I was wearing underneath. I guess Jo hadn’t been expecting that. Like I hadn’t expected to feel the blade pierce my flesh, a sharp, burning pain; or to see my white suit flood bright red; or to smell my own blood on the air as the world tilted from shock—
And then I was reaching for my power and pushing back against time, although it felt like moving a mountain, like moving the whole world. Because this wasn’t my world, and every action in Faerie took ten times the strength. And that was without a knife sticking out of my ribs!
But I wasn’t dying here, not at anyone’s hands, and especially not hers.
I felt it when my power surged around me, when time slowed and then stopped, leaving the vicious satisfaction frozen on Jo’s face. The narrowed eyes glittered; the dark hair flowed out like a frozen banner behind her; the lips snarled, baring teeth almost as sharp as a vampire’s. But that wasn’t what had me staring.
What had me staring was that she looked exactly the same as always.
Jo was a necromancer, whose freed spirit jumped bodies with ease, and so death for her was a little different than for most people. But I hadn’t expected to see her like this, like nothing had ever happened. Stupid, stupid!
Spirits manifest bodies in Faerie, as I knew from some of Billy Joe’s adventures. I should have expected her to end up here, sooner or later, where my power couldn’t track her. Especially since she’d been working with the goddamned Svarestri!
Like I should have expected her to pull herself out of my spell within seconds, because she was an adept, too.
There was no transition, as I’d seen with the few others who had the power to break through a time stoppage. No time to see the thick, black eyelashes flutter, or the chest rise and fall as she drew in a breath. No time for anything.
One second she was frozen, and the next I was battling for my life with a blade still stuck an inch into my flesh.
Until I used one of the moves Pritkin had showed me and twisted out of her g
rip, cutting myself in the process, since the knife stayed stationary. But it was a flesh wound, burning and stinging and bleeding enough to stain my suit, even through all the padding, but not mortal. And I was too busy throwing Jo to the ground and kicking her upside the jaw to care.
The sharp ice cleats on the bottom of my boot sliced open three gouges across that pretty face, but she didn’t react except to tackle me again as I lunged for Pritkin. I needed to get a hand on him to pull him out of her spell, but that wasn’t going to be easy. She didn’t try to freeze me, probably because she couldn’t, having just done the same thing to him. But she could grab my legs and send me crashing to the ground.
So I smashed her in the face with my cleats some more, causing her to cry out and let go, and allowing me to scramble ahead for a couple of yards while staring behind me—
Before having to dodge to the side, to avoid the knife quivering out of the rock where my torso had just been.
I rolled over, kicked her in the stomach as she sprang at me, heard her scream—
And then she was gone, as suddenly as she’d appeared.
I lay in the snow for a second, breathless and staring. Then I scrambled for Pritkin and jerked him out of the remnants of her spell. The one he’d almost finished breaking himself, which had me doing a double take. Jo must have realized he was almost free; that’s why she ran.
But where? And to do what? I stared around, because Jo just. Didn’t. Quit. It was her most memorable attribute.
Well, except for the hate.
“Are you all right?”
I realized that Pritkin was yelling at me. I swiped a sleeve across my face; my nose was running and I was breathing hard. And my side felt like—
I looked down.
Like someone had fucking stabbed me.
“It isn’t that bad,” I told Pritkin, who was shaking me. And then cursing, and looking around.
“Jo,” I said. And saw his eyes widen, because I’d told him about her during some of our abortive visits.
Or perhaps that look was down to something else, I thought, following his line of vision. And catching sight of what was barreling at us through the clear blue sky like a gigantic missile. Only it wasn’t a missile. Or a manlikan. Or anything else I could possibly have expected.
“What the fu—” Pritkin yelled.