Page 23 of The Crow Games

Mara stretched up next to him, and he scratched behind her ears. Whatever she said to him, she sent it straight to his thoughts. He chuckled over the words I could not hear, though I sensed they were at my expense. His laughter was unkind.

The sigil that Nott had used to summon the monstrous garm remained on the wall in the shape of a shard of ice, the same frost that formed the gates to Hel. Below it, a pile of gifts were strewn about. Supplies mostly. Gifts of fresh fruit, bags of ingredients crucial to spells, things of great value from the desperate in Wulfram. Things Nott and Mara had grown tired of quickly, so they’d summoned themselves something more entertaining.

I drew in closer to the sigil. Its magic was so cold it made my skin pebble. This was not the divine energy responsible for killing my sister. It burned differently, so frigid it stung. I filed that information away for another time when my life wasn’t in immediate danger.

The garm raged at his chains, startling my spirit into alertness. This was my chance to crush this beast to mush, to send him straight back to Hel in pieces. I readied my magic. It gathered in my palms, pressing at the pads of my fingertips, darkening my hands to gray. I reached for the sigil greedily.

A shadow fell over it, blocking my way, and the sigil went out with a sizzle.

The darkness lingered there, wafting the spicy scent of powerful magic and leather. I made a rude gesture at the crow spy hiding in the shade.

“If you and your god have decided to kill me,” I hissed, “at least have the courage to face me yourself.”

Hands in fists, I moved to the edge of the circle. Anger crackled and sparked through my spirit. I wasn’t practiced enough anymore to make my spirit act on my behalf with any sort of certainty. Not depleted as I was, and not without stolen god power to add to mine. Nola didn’t want me to waste precious bullets, but I fired a quick shot straight at the beast’s heart.

The bullet pierced his meaty flesh just right of my target. He let out an angered yelp and leapt away. I charged the circle, aiming the next shot at his right eye, adjusting for the sights.

The lumbering creature moved with a speed I could barely follow. The injury had been an act, lulling me into coming closer, and I’d fallen for it. The beast struck at my arm, and my gray magic reacted instinctively, thank the Crone. It surged just enough to absorb most of the blow.

The strike that should have taken my arm off knocked the revolver from my hand. My fingers throbbed. I went for the garm’s eye with my dagger, and the great beast lunged low, dodging the strike. He swiped my legs out from under me and knocked me onto my back.

I hit my head and lost my wind. My vision swam. It was over already. The garm loomed above me, his gaze on his god, waiting for permission to end my life. He pinned me to the ground with one of his bulky hooves on my stomach. I groaned under the weight of him.

But Nott wasn’t paying attention. He picked at his nails, and Mara slumbered in her throne. Not even my death was enough to hold their interest, they cared so little for me.

Fucking gods.

I saw red and roared. Energy churned through my belly, pumping up into my heart. A blast of gray burst from my chest, knocking back the beast. I leapt to my feet, fueled by a righteous fury that lit me up from the inside out. The garm snarled, and the stench of sulfur burned in my nostrils. He lunged for my face, tusks and teeth bared.

With claws of gray magic, I reached into his chest, passing straight through thick skin and bone and sinew. I grabbed his heart and crushed it between my palms. He spat blood in my face. His shriveled little soul was next. I ripped it out through his throat without tearing any of the muscle. His spirit clung to me, delicate and sticky as spider silk. His soul was a messy, broken thing with no magic to speak of, but I was so starved for energy I was tempted to eat it, to replenish a little of what I’d lost.

But I could think of nothing more wicked to do, even to a garm. I tossed his misty essence into the ether for the crows to fetch. His soul screamed as it vanished.

The garm’s empty body swayed on his hooves. He fell forward, his weight too much for me. My spirit surged again with the last of the energy I had left, just a silvery puff of light. It kept the beast from crushing me flat, but his massive body caged me against the ground.

I squirmed my way toward freedom and barely managed to get my face out from beneath his broad chest, I was so depleted.

“I can’t . . .” I gasped.

Nott threw back his head and cackled at the ceiling. His mirth echoed off the walls. “Did you see that, sister dear? How spectacularly unexpected.”

The big cat licked a paw. At least she wasn’t sleeping now.

“Can’t breathe,” I panted. “Help me out from under here. I fought him like you wanted, didn’t I . . . ? I gave you a good show.”

“Yes, my bloodthirsty little pet,” Nott purred at me. “I’ll help you out of there if you ask me nicely.”

The beast stank like sulfur and piss, and I missed being able to fill my lungs. The back of my head hurt where I’d knocked it against the floor. My body was sore and growing more uncomfortable every moment I remained trapped. I swallowed my pride. “Please. Please, glorious Lord of Night and Mischief. Aid your servant, I beg you.”

Nott vanished from his throne. The garm’s weight lifted, and I gulped air into my lungs, grateful for every single breath. The god moved his monster one-handed, tossing him aside like he weighed nothing. A stone paver cracked where the Hel creature landed in a heap of hooves and limbs.

“Servant,” Nott cooed. “I do like the sound of that.”

I smelled the crow before I spotted him forming from the shadows between the columns, the tart and tangy scent of his death magic much more pleasant than the reek of sulfur. Gritting my teeth, I climbed to my feet.

“Don’t be fooled by her good manners,” the reaper cautioned, his baritone curling into my ears like smoke. “She’s a vicious little troublemaker.”

Nott chuckled. “But I love troublemakers. How long has it been since you’ve seen a gray witch, Asher? They don’t visit us in the Otherworld nearly enough. It’s been centuries for Mara and I. We’re delighted.”

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