text beside it said, Give your man what he deserves!
“Kick ’em in the nuts” used to be my solution for most things. But then
again, I was a lot more put together before I knew that sorcerers and
werewolves existed. That had thrown old Savy for a bit of a loop. Where was
that girl now?
Sitting on the crapper, hiding from a mean girl like she’s back in high
school, my wolf chided. Let me go talk to her. I’ll teach her a thing or two.
“Regina’s not my problem,” I muttered. She was just a mirror of my own
guilt. That was what I was hiding from in here. Guilt. Not her. Just the faces
of the sleepers hanging on the wall.
I pushed my palms against my head. “What the hell am I going to do?
Even if we can get the witch to help us stop the dream attack, how are we
going to stop Kahanov?”
Kill him, duh, my wolf offered, somewhat unsympathetically.
“Easier said than done. He’s crazy powerful with all sorts of demons and
spells and God-knows-what. How am I supposed to stop him?”
Rip out his throat. Massive blood loss is an effective way to kill
everybody. I’d be happy to do it for you, the monster inside of me eagerly
chirped.
I knew where all of this was heading sooner or later: Kahanov and me,
face to face. Him with all his magic and demons, me with my ignorance and
lack of control. What edge could I possibly have?
Closing my eyes, I concentrated on the Soul Knife, trying to recall the
way it felt in my hand and the sensation of its magic. After a while, electricity
tingled in my arm, and the blade slowly took form.
I hefted it, measuring its weight. It was something, at least.
With a deliberate motion, I jabbed the tip of the knife into the door and
started carving graffiti as I considered my options.
After few minutes, a series of light footsteps echoed outside, and the
bathroom door swung open. Sam. I knew her instantly by her scent.