Warrior Fae Princess (Warrior Fae 2)

“My body aches,” Charity said. “Well, hurts more than aches. It feels like dull razor blades are slicing through my middle. I’m not sure I’ll make it.”

“Magic will fix you right up. Penny’s on the other side. She can handle this, trust me. If it has to do with magic, that chick can figure it out.” Reagan nodded with confidence, raised her hand, and fisted the air. “But yes, I will get this disease out of the way. And soon, I will find its maker.”

“Not even you can scrape that out of me, Heir,” the demon rasped, frothy drool sliding down its fangs. “We are bonded, my maker and I. She called me with her body. I have planted my seed within her, as the circle demanded. I could not tell you if I tried.”

Reagan jerked as if struck. “Good God, that is gross. Luckily, I know a guy that is great at messing around with bonds. Transferring them, forcing them—what have you. I wonder if he knows that your master has a spy in his fold, eh? I wonder what he’ll do to you when he finds out.”

“Reagan,” Devon said. Roger would want to hear about this conversation, but interesting though it was, Devon couldn’t wait around to listen.

“Yup, sorry.” Reagan braced, her whole body tense.

The demon grinned around its fangs. “You will be great one day, Heir. Or you will die.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.” Reagan jerked her fist, and the demon haltingly moved out of the way. Reagan stepped aside, but before Devon could go through the portal, she put up her other hand to stop him. Her sword nearly sliced off his nose.

“Oops, sorry,” she said, sheathing the blade. “Listen to Emery. That guy is about as tough as anyone you’ll meet, and he’s been through hell in the Realm. He has no stake in this game besides paying it forward. You can trust him as your guide.” She nodded, and her gaze fell on Charity. “I hope to meet the rest of the warrior fae one day. I hear they were feared back in the day—they didn’t bow to anyone. My kinda people.” Reagan scanned the tree line where she and Charity had sensed a silent observer. “Now to find the Peeping Tom and force it to a tea party with my new friend here.”

Devon didn’t watch her march the demon away, nor did he stop to wonder how the hell she could control it. He faced down the portal and took a deep breath.

“This is probably going to hurt, Charity,” he said. “It might hurt a lot. But just hold on, okay? I’m right here. Once we get through the portal, we’ll be fine. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said, her voice quavering.

He held her tightly, refusing to notice the weak grip she had on his neck. Refusing to notice her lack of fire in the face of danger.

Refusing to notice that the natural inner glow that usually shone so brightly within her was fading.

“Let’s go,” he said, terror riding high in his chest. “Hurry!”* * *Charity could barely think through the fog. She could barely see past the haze over her eyes. The weight of her limbs, once so heavy and hard to manage, barely registered. They were nearly completely numb.

Without warning, or maybe there had been warning, an incredible flash of heat boiled her blood and blistered her skin. Hot needles stabbed her eyes. Sharp points dug into her ears. The strange suck of energy that had been continuous since the battle in the parking lot intensified, sapping what few reserves she had left. Stealing it, and her life force with it.

She screamed against the onslaught, struggling to get away. Trying to break free.

“Easy now,” Devon said, his voice miles away. “Push through it. You can get through it.”

Agony clawed at her insides, fierce and hot. It yanked at her limbs, threatening to pull them out of their joints. Her guts twisted, and then felt like they were being pulled from her body. Acid dribbled across her bones, eating them away.

“I can’t make it,” she yelled. She didn’t have any strength, not compared to the iron wrapped around her body. “Please, stop. I can’t make it!”* * *Devon gritted his teeth against her cries of pain. Her words ripped at his heart, but he pushed through the pain.

“I can’t make it!” She thrashed against him, as weak as a kitten. “It’s killing me!”

Tears blinded his eyes and fear pushed against his chest, but he kept walking. Kept going. If he didn’t, she would die anyway.Chapter ThirteenCharity fluttered her eyes, trying to get them open, to see past this darkness. She couldn’t feel her body. She couldn’t feel anything. She floated in a blank, featureless space that part of her realized was the holding room between the living and the dead. The place for those who were too obstinate to move on.