The flare finally faded. Erra’s jeering voice called out from the street, “Is that all you’ve got?”
Couldn’t be. I leaned to the window, Mauro next to me. On the street, Torch pulled the shreds of his cloak off his shoulders. The fabric broke to green-glowing ash under his touch.
He squared his naked shoulders and opened his mouth.
A blast of magic hit me, ripping through the protective spell like a thunderclap. Window glass exploded. The world went white in agony. The building quaked and bucked under my feet, shuddering from the aftershock of the ward’s collapse. I clenched my teeth and clawed through the pain. My vision cleared. In front of me Mauro slumped on his knees among shards of the shattered window. Blood dripped from his nose.
He sucked it in and staggered to his feet, his face caught in a grimace. “A power word.”
“Yes.” Probably something along the lines of Open or Break. I glanced at the window. A translucent wall of blue blocked the view. Hairline cracks fractured the dead ward. The wall held together for another second and broke apart, melting into the wind.
So that was what a power word spoken by a six-thousand-year-old woman felt like.
Erra’s voice rolled through the building in a cheerful song. “One little step! Two little steps! Three little steps!
I’m coming up the stairs, little squirrel. Prepare yourself.”
I pulled Slayer free of its sheath and strode into the hallway. Behind me Andrea dropped through the access panel, landing in an easy crouch on the floor.
The door to the hallway flew open, ripped off its hinges, revealing Torch on the landing. His nude body glowed with an angry deep ruby light. A wide metal collar clasped his neck. There goes my decapitation trick.
He was undead, made with my family’s blood. It gave me a chance, a small insignificant chance, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. I pulled the magic to me.
Torch raised his left foot, stepping inside. Tiny sparks broke across his toes. His foot touched the floor and the sparks erupted into flames, spiraling up his limbs in a quick cascade.
Mauro braced himself.
The flames licked Torch’s bare chest. Fifty feet of the hallway lay between us, four offices on each side. I kept pulling, winding the magic around me. That’s right, bring him closer, Aunt dear. The shorter the range, the greater the impact.
The crossbow string twanged. Twin bolts pierced Torch’s chest. He ripped them out with an impatient jerk of the flame-sheathed hand. Andrea swore.
“Cute,” Erra barked. “My turn.”
The fire swirled around Torch like a mantle of heat and light. He raised his arms. Flames danced about his fingertips.
A huge hand pushed me back. Mauro thrust himself in front of me. His shirt was gone. A dense wall of tattoos covered his back and chest. They glowed with tiny lines of bright red that shifted and flowed, as if inside Mauro’s skin his flesh had turned to lava. He stomped, first left foot, then right, planting himself in the hallway, feet spread wide, arms raised at his sides.
“Get out of the way!” I snarled.
Mauro took a deep breath.
A fireball burst from Torch’s arms, roaring down the hallway.
Mauro bellowed a single word. “Mahui-ki!”
The tattoos flashed with bright red. The wall of flame broke into twin jets five feet before the Samoan, shooting through Mauro’s office on the left and Gene’s on the right. Mauro stood untouched.
The fire died. The Torch cocked his head to the side like a dog. “What’s this?”
Mauro grunted and stomped, one foot, then the other. The red lines on his skin flared.
Another wall of fire hit Mauro and twisted, deflected into the offices. Mauro packed a hell of a power. But now three hundred pounds of him stood between me and Torch and those three hundred pounds showed no signs of moving. The hallway was too narrow. I was stuck.
“Mauro, get out of the way.”
“Hit me!” Mauro roared at the Torch.
Right. No intelligent life there.
“Brace yourself.” Torch swung his arms, building up spirals of fire around his arms.
If I couldn’t go through Mauro, I had to go around him. I ducked into the break room and kicked the wall. The old wooden boards splintered under my kick. The building was solid brick, but the inner walls that cleaved the inside space into offices were single board thin. I kicked again. The wood gave with a snap and I broke through into Mauro’s office.
In the hallway Mauro roared, a raw bellow full of strain.
I hit the next wall with my shoulder.
Mauro’s body flew past me. A thud shook the building—Mauro’s back punching Ted’s office door. A wall of fire followed, blasting me with heat. Andrea screamed.
I tore at the wall in front of me and squeezed through the narrow opening.
“Where are you, whelp? Did you run away again, maggot?”
The boards creaked. She was moving Torch in my direction. A wound to the stomach would do nothing to him and the collar kept me from slicing his neck. Not a lot of choices. If this failed, he’d burn us alive.
Torch passed by the door.
Now.
I lunged out of the room and clamped my left arm across his throat, pulling his back snug against me. Fire shot along his skin. I slid Slayer between his ribs into his heart and whispered a word into his ear.
“Hessad.” Mine.
The world shook, as all of the magic I’d gathered tore from me at once. Pain streamed through my body, wringing tears from my eyes. Torch’s mind opened before me, hot like boiling metal. I clamped it, dousing the flames, and smashed against the solid wall of Erra’s presence. Her mind punched me and I reeled.
The immense force of her mind towered over me. Nobody was that powerful. Nobody.
Was that what looking into my father’s mind would be like? If so, I didn’t have a fucking prayer.
I pushed back, a gnat against colossus. An immense pressure grinding against me, sparking pain. I hung on, clenching my hand on Slayer’s hilt. If I held it in his heart long enough, the blade would turn the undead tissue to pus. I just had to last.
Torch spun, lifting me off my feet. Fire licked my chest. “You shame the family. Weakling. Coward, who runs from the fight like a mangy dog.”
I gritted my teeth against the pain and pushed back with my mind, extinguishing the flames. “It wasn’t my idea. I had you and I would’ve killed you.”
Hard fingers gripped my left wrist and pulled, slowly moving my arm from his throat. I strained. The moment he got free, he’d pull Slayer out and then we’d be done for.