Page 97 of Court of Evil

Their screams are music to our ears. As Tate mentioned, it won’t kill them, but it will hurt. I can taste their pain in the air, and I feed on it. It’s not as delicious as hers nor her surrender, but it will do. I linger in the shadows, waiting.

I do not need a weapon because I am a weapon—one she wields even if she does not know it.

It has been too long since I have experienced battle, the high of trading blows and stealing lives. I should thank her for bringing me with her and allowing me this freedom to kill and slaughter.

Ronan, the ghost fool, pops into existence in the middle of the room. He looks uncharacteristically stoic as he holds out his hand, revealing a dagger on his palm. The hilt is twisted golden metal that hums with magic, inlaid with glowing red stones.

It possesses strong, ancient magic. In fact, from the feel of it, it appears to be death magic.

“This is how you kill a ghoul, with an enchanted blade. You must remove the head from their body,” he murmurs. “Shamus sends his regards.”

Tate grips the dagger and nods at Ronan. “Thank you. Good work.”

“Make it worthwhile. Shamus had to give a lot to get that,” he murmurs, and she frowns but turns back as the screams taper off. They are silent, or at least they must think they are, but I can hear the pitter-patter of their feet like scurrying rats.

Do they really think they stand a chance?

They took us by surprise in the hotel room, and if she allowed it, I would have ripped them apart until I learned how to kill them, but I did not want to leave her unprotected. Now, however, she is giving us free rein. She looks at us and grins.

“Kill them or make it hurt so much they beg us to.” She holds up the dagger. “And I’ll end their miserable lives.”

“Monsters killing hunters,” Jarek scoffs. “I love the irony.”

They appear around the corner, and I don’t wait any longer.

I am showing off a little since I rarely get to, but I can’t resist.

I appear in their midst, and they turn, but it’s too late. I move like air, faster than they can follow, wielding my magic like a weapon. I slice and cut them apart, dancing as their bellows of outrage and agony fill the air. Their tainted blood spills across me, staining my perfect skin and hair, but I do not stop.

My hand slams into one of their chests, and I grip their heart and yank it out, dropping it to the floor before moving on to the next. They reach for me, but they move too slowly. I let out all my rage and darkness, everything that made my own people fear me.

I am the creature they speak of when they tell tales of the evil unseelie. I am the reason they fear the dark, and it has been far too long since I reminded the world of it. I feel the air darken around me, reacting to my magic. The earth calls me home, offering me its strength, but I do not need it.

I rip them apart like butterfly wings as they flutter to the ground around me, torn apart in a macabre offering.

Covered in blood, I turn and look at Tate. She smirks at me, and I see no fear in her gaze, unlike everyone else whohas ever seen my darkness and fury. She watches me like I am magnificent, and as I meet her eyes, I know I will be hers until my last breath. There’s a groan, and I glance down as they start to put themselves back together again.

I walk to her side, and we watch as they mend their broken bodies until a leering Black stands before us. “You cannot kill us,” he reminds her.

“Want to bet?” She walks over to Eric, jerks him up, and forces him to kneel before her as she faces Black.

She presses the dagger against Eric’s neck. The enchanted blade glows, the magic calling to my own as I watch curiously. “You brought him back, Black, so you must care a little, but I’ll kill him.”

“Do it.” Black shrugs. “He’s nothing to me and never has been. They are all expendable, just like you, Tate. You were just another stupid blade.”

“Sir,” Eric rasps, struggling in Tate’s hold, but Black ignores him, keeping his eyes on Tate. He thinks she won’t follow through. He thinks she’s weak.

He’s a fool who can’t see past his own ego.

Her eyes remain on Black as she leans down, her mouth near Eric’s ear. “See what your loyalty gets you? You sullied your soul for a devil who doesn’t care if you live or die. I want you to remember that while you burn.” She cuts with the dagger, and it glows brightly at the first drop of blood, and the slash widens. Tate slices again, cutting his head off and tossing it at Black’s feet. Eric’s now headless, lifeless body falls to the side, and we all wait with bated breath, but he doesn’t move.

Holding up the dagger, she grins. “You always told me to be prepared.” She eyes the bloodied blade and glances at Black. “You’re next.”

“Get the blade!” he roars.

CHAPTER 40

Mav lunges forward at Black’s command. His bright smile and dazzling blue eyes are gone. All the joy and life he carried with him is drained, and now he’s just a shell of a man intent on following orders. Before he can reach me, Tem tackles him from the side, growing in size and strength as his shadows and beast come out to play. I leave him to it as Goose, Wick, Santos, and Ara head towards me while Black lingers at the back. Ara has no blade, but I see his hands twitch and I brace myself.

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