Page 21 of Shadow's Heart

When Silt halved the body of a giant one, his gaze found hers and awareness simmered between them—a pair of immortals impressed with one another.

Soon only two corpse-eaters remained. “You want the honors?” Silt asked, sharing foes, a polite gesture.

“Delighted.” With a grin, she sped between the wendigos, twirling with her sword outstretched. Heads tumbled as their bodies collapsed.

Never slowing her momentum, she raced forward to attack the sorcerer.

“The hell?” He blocked with wicked strength. Then a second time.

Stalemate. Out of breath, they circled each other.

“I just saved your life—again—and this is how you thank me?”

“The threat has passed, so I reacquired my former target. Besides, you only saved your bait. I don’t want to bekept alive for a time.”

His lips curled, and he didn’t deny it. “You didn’t overstate your talents with a blade.”

“You didn’t hint of yours,” Mina said, proud of her banter.

“But I’m going to want my sword back.” He must be feeling better; he assessed her figure with a slow perusal.

The flare of interest in a male’s gaze should have mortified her. She felt her old awkwardness surging. Fury, plague, and the heat of battle helped her stifle it. “Indeed? Come and get it.”

“Your eyes are even redder. You’re as much of a maneater as that shifter you attacked.”

“He pounced first,” she said, beginning to explain. But letting this sorcerer assume she was a terror made sense. “And so he paid.”

When more howls rang out from behind them, indicating a number that would dwarf this one, Silt said, “That pack will swell as long as we’re in their territory.”

She’d spotted a rise several dozen miles away. Higher ground out of this muck should give her an advantage. “You and I will resume this at a later time.” She whirled around and sprinted.

But the sorcerer was right on her heels.

Ten

“Save your murderous looks,” Silt told the vampire as they slogged over soggy ground. “I go where you go.”

Her glare deepened, though she never slowed. “What’s your plan now?”

“Make sure I’m beside you in case Mirceo somehow shows up here. He might actually do it, using whatever arcane powers he used to breach my home’s defenses. I doubt his demon friend could’ve managed that on his own.” Scores of demons had tried and paid for their folly. “And then when Mirceo arrives, I’ll strike.”

Lips thinned, she said, “You blame him for your plight? Why not blame the Gaolers? Or by that chain of reasoning, blame yourself for breaking the laws of the Lore!”

The Gaolers had warned Silt not to use his sorcery in front of humans. But after he’d been robbed of his abilities—enslaved, then preyed upon as a child and young man—his lust for power had overwhelmed him. “You’re one to talk about broken laws, maneater,” he pointed out. “And of course I blame your brother. I’ve survived as long as I have because of my reputation. Mirceo has undermined it. Until I behead him, every immortal fromhere to the Elserealms will consider me an open target. That’s the way the Lore works.”

“You confound me. You seem to believe you can easily defeat Mirceo—who is an expert swordsman—yet not defeat any other foe.”

Silt sped through a puddle, splashing mud. “You must think I can defeat him as well.”

“I know that vow of yours will strengthen the resolve of a man otherwise lacking in it.” She eyed him for a strike, would cut his throat without so much as blinking. “And there will be zero chance of a conflict after you’re dead.”

“Try it, leech. Make this interesting.”

“You won’t see me coming.” Had her gaze dipped to his neck?

With each step across this wasteland, his hunger increased. Her thirst must be burgeoning like a tidal wave. “When was the last time you drank?”

She hurdled a large rock. “Why do you care?”

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