Page 25 of Light

It had been another fortnight. Some small part of her mind was counting. Fourteen days. The last time he’d come, it was fourteen days after the first.

But the night came and went, and he never showed. With no new attacks and nothing to occupy her time, she thought of him.

Jophiel came each night, showing her some new way to use her gift. On the fifteenth night, she waited by the door, and when there was a knock, she threw it wide.

Crimson lips stretched into a cruel smile, and bright yellow eyes glimmered in some unnatural light.

Adalaide slammed the door, her chest heaving as she slouched against it.

The witch was back. She was here to kill her, and Jophiel had not come.

Adalaide had set her own wards, following all the instructions Jophiel had taught her, and woven in a few of her own—ones she’d seen Gabriel create.

“How unkind,” a voice said from the other side of the door. “It's impolite to close a door in your guest’s face.”

Gabriel, she thought. Gabriel, please come. But wishing for him was as useless as wishing for her mother and father to be alive. She could only hear his thoughts when he was near, if he let her, and she had a feeling it was the same for him. If she hoped to survive another attack from the creature outside, she would need to be strong. She would need to be clever.

“You’re not welcome, and you’re no guest of mine,” she called through the door.

“Come, Adalaide. I will make it quick. I promise.”

Adalaide’s heart stuck in her throat, the thrum of its rhythm making her breath come in short gasps. The wards were meant to hold off the creatures who had hunted her these past eight years, but the woman outside was so much stronger than they had ever been.

She stepped away from the door, frantically tracing the shape of a five-pointed star in the air. She called on the words in her journal, written in her father’s hand, some bit of dark magic meant to hold their victim in place.

They were charged by demon magic, but perhaps she was strong enough to make it work. She ran to the kitchen, pulling a knife from the drawer, cutting her finger, and returning to the foyer. She traced the star shape she’d made with her bloody finger and let out a small sigh of relief as the blood dissolved, accepted by the spell.

A loud bang against the door sent her stumbling back, but it held. It was due entirely to the magic and had nothing to do with the extra money she’d spent on a reinforced door—she was sure of that. A creature such as Sanura would not be deterred by wood and steel.

Another loud bang at the door had Adalaide backing up.

She didn’t know how long the wards would hold, so she used the time to construct another two magical traps in the foyer. They would slow her down, at the very least.

When no sound had come in some time, she dared to peek through one of the windows beside the door. It was dark and quiet. Had Sanura given up for the night?

A crash and the sound of shattering glass on the second floor made Adalaide’s heart race, and nausea roiled in her gut as the ward across her second-floor window failed and zapped some of her energy. Steadying herself, she ran for the sound, lighting both hands in blue flame as she reached the second-floor landing and halted.

Hovering before her were two dark, insubstantial creatures. The one to the right whipped her tail in agitation, reminding Adalaide of a cat. The one to the left appeared at ease, making Adalaide more anxious.

She lifted both hands, forming balls of fire in them. “Don’t come any closer.”

The one to the left eyed her blue flame warily, but the catlike one gave a feral scream and lunged forward.

She met the creature, pressing both hands into her face and shoved with all her might, closing her hands into fists as the demon dissolved.

She turned her attention to the second demon, lifting shaking arms.

The toll of maintaining the wards, creating new traps below, and casting fire was wearing on her fast. The demon’s horned brow rose as he observed her.

A loud bang and a cracking sound at the door below drew her attention.

The demon dived for her, wrapping sharp talons around her throat. She gasped as the tips dug into her delicate flesh. Where they drew blood, her skin burned, and she let out a rasping cry.

She wrapped her fingers around his, trying to pry them from her throat as his dark skin popped and sizzled under her flaming touch.

He hissed, releasing her, and she staggered forward, sucking in lungfuls of air.

Her skin was swollen and raw; she touched her neck, feeling the wet warmth of her own blood as it ran down her throat.

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