Page 48 of The Grip of Death
“Thanks,” I breathed, relieved that the fire had passed.
How Gertrude’s kitchen had survived her oven’s explosion, I couldn’t guess. Enchanted to protect against fire, perhaps. But even more infuriating was how Gertrude still stood leering before us, unburnt and unharmed.
“And how the hell did you survive that?” I shouted.
“If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.”
She was also magically protected against fire, maybe even the other elements. It made practical sense for someone who spent half her life in the kitchen to insulate herself against extreme temperatures, perhaps electricity, too.
But there was one thing I just knew she wasn’t resistant to.
Gertrude chuckled. “And that was only the first blast, gents. Your parents truly were so talented, Jackson. Are you ready for more?”
I gritted my teeth, knowing that she was taunting me deliberately, hating that I kept falling for it every time.
“Nah,” Xander said, cool and casual. “I don’t think so.”
I didn’t quite hear the spell word he used. It sounded like he’d spoken in four voices all at once. Xander threw his arms forward, a twisting coil of elemental power blasting from his fingertips.
Jagged shards of rock blazed with ropes of fire. Wicked icicles crackled with arcs of electricity. All four elements swirled and whistled through the air, then struck the Crucible’s gaping mouth with a thunderclap that shook the room. The Crucible cracked, then split in half, the metal blackened, its fire instantly extinguished.
“No!” Gertrude screeched. “The Crucible!”
Xander’s gamble had paid off. He’d pierced the Crucible’s protection by overloading it with all the elements at the same time. But I had my own ideas about overcoming something’s protection.
Or someone’s.
A cylindrical object had rolled its way to the side of my boot. In one quick motion, I lunged for the ground. Gertrude’s eyes went huge as I leapt forward and bashed her in the head with a rolling pin.
Gertrude Goodness toppled like a tree and crashed to the floor, unconscious.
“Oh, gods,” Xander breathed. “Jack, you just killed her.”
I nudged her with my boot. “No way. Evil like her doesn’t die that easy. And anyway, you’d think she would have cast her own kind of shielding spell.”
Sparrowheart scoffed. “She should consider herself lucky. I had every intention of taking her head off her shoulders.”
“Okay, everyone.” Reza raised his hands, positioning himself between the three of us and Gertrude’s body. “We’re notchopping a guild master’s head off today. My people will take it from here.”
“That’s if they ever get here. Fight’s over. Good job, SEER.” I threw my hands up in frustration, then winced from the sting of my hand. My poor Gauntlet. But that was fine. I was an artificer. The Gauntlet, I could fix.
Sounds of distress echoed down the corridor to Gertrude’s office. Someone in guild headquarters had finally noticed the commotion. I dropped my rolling pin. It clattered and rolled somewhere under a cabinet.
Let the guild members come and find their master passed out on the floor. We had SEER, the Summer Court, and justice on our side. I wrapped my arm around Xander’s shoulder and pressed a sweaty kiss against his cheek.
The first person through the door was not, in fact, a Mother Dough member, but a small brass bulldog. Brutus waddled in, a paper bag gripped between his teeth. The remains of his lunch, perhaps, a literal doggie bag. His jaw fell, and so did the doggie bag.
“What the hell happened in here?”
19
I wokeup the next day to the tantalizing aroma of coffee wafting up from the ground floor. No, wait — from a little tray table sitting on our bed, complete with eggs and bacon and toast for two. Breakfast in bed courtesy of Lore and his talented tentacles? Yes, please.
I nudged Xander awake, kissed his hair when he complained, lavishing him with affection until he, too, realized that we had to deal with the very serious matter of eating a delicious, greasy breakfast. Just me and my husband, Xander.
My husband Xander! Imagine that.
Our first week, our first moments as a married couple. It felt like a faerie tale — or our twisted version of one, the two of us and all our friends and family somehow overcoming unearthly odds. A power-hungry queen, and an equally megalomaniacal guild master. The evil faerie godmother and the witch in her cottage.
