Indigo(83)

Damastes roared. A sudden roar that set Indigo staggering, tripping, slamming into the table. What the hell—?

She could feel Damastes chuckling as he squirmed free of his confinement. She had no time to put the lid back on him. Rafe spun so fast the blade sliced a thin line across Graham’s neck, the older man letting out a hiss of pain.

“Indigo,” Rafe said, smiling. “How nice of you to drop in. But I knew you’d have to show up sometime.”

“Spare me the banter and let go of Edwards—you’ve lost.”

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t you see that with you here, I’ve won?” Rafe laughed merrily and the knife rose. Indigo leaped to shove Graham out of the way, but Rafe wasn’t killing him—he’d lifted his hand to cast a spell. When it came down, light flew. A hundred points of light, those whirring razor-sharp balls of pure energy. Indigo dove, and as she did, she became shadow. The lights hit and her darkness consumed them. Most of them anyway. A few still struck, slicing into her as she hit the floor, hard, naked to the glare of light. Dammit! Rafe had been ready for her—that scraping feeling had to have been some trap he’d laid that she hadn’t seen. He knew she sheltered Damastes and that he didn’t need the Edwards kids if he could capture her alive. But he also knew Indigo wasn’t likely to let that happen.

She spun and scrambled to her feet.

Rafe cast again, and Indigo reached for the shadows. Nothing happened. The shrapnel shards of light hit, and Indigo bit back a howl of pain. She managed to leap into the shadows along the wall, and they enveloped her.

She struggled for the reassuring strength of the shadows at her command, but there was nothing, as if the flow of darkness was restrained inside her. Was it Rafe’s magic or…?

You bastard.

Yes, child? Damastes laughed. Would you like something?

Let go or we’re all dead.

I think not. Just continue antagonizing Rafael. He’s overburdened. Between stopping you and holding Graham Edwards, he’ll eventually break. He’ll kill Edwards, and we won’t need to worry about the ritual. The shadows around Indigo parted enough for Rafe to see her. He cast again, and she dove into the blackness as the balls peppered her legs, each one a pinpoint of excruciating pain.

You son of a—

I’ll accept an alternative. If you agree to cooperate with me, I’ll help you take Edwards.

Another power blast from Rafe, and Nora looked down in time to see the shadows had forsaken her again. She tried to run back into them, but it was like a child standing behind a pole and thinking her enemy couldn’t see her if she couldn’t see him. As Indigo, she tore at Damastes, trying to wrest the shadows back into her control. Why wasn’t it working? Hadn’t Selene said the shadows had no allegiance? What had Damastes—or Rafe—done?

Bits of magical shrapnel struck as she ran. The pain crippled her. She fell to her knees.

I don’t want to hurt you, child.

Then don’t!

She wrenched around and shouted to Graham, “Run!”

Rafe was in the middle of casting another magical assault, distracted by Nora, and Graham realized it. He broke free from Rafe’s grasp and started for the door … and Rafe swung the full force of his spell on the older man.

Indigo shouted, “No!” and bolted to Graham, but it was too late. The spheres of spinning light hit him in the back, ripping through his shirt, tearing into his flesh.

Damastes chortled. Indigo leaped on Graham, taking him down and smacking the remaining spheres away, ignoring the pain.

Then she realized what she’d done. Captured Graham Edwards without the shadows’ help. She was stunned. Then a hand grabbed her from behind. A blade went to her throat.

“Go ahead and run, Graham,” Rafe said. “The men outside will bring you right back to me. You can hear them, can’t you?”

Graham, still on the floor, heaving in pain as blood ran down his back, listened to the sounds of battle drawing nearer. He shook his head. Then he said, voice quaking, “My daughter. You can have my daughter. Leave my son. I need someone to carry on my name.”

Rafe bent to help Graham to his feet, keeping an eye on Indigo and the knife raised between them, the hilt gleaming with the spell concealed in his hand. “You’ve made a wise choice,” Rafe murmured to Graham.

As Graham got up, tears steamed down his face, which was twisted into an expression of torment. Indigo stared at him. Tears or no tears, any sympathy she’d felt for him washed away in a wave of disgust. Carry on his name? That’s what he was concerned about? She started forward—damned if she’d let Rafe win—but her feet seemed stuck to the carpet—as if her own shadow had nailed her there.

Let me go!

Damastes laughed. You assume it is I who holds you back.

Isn’t it?

She could feel his shrug, like the churning of her stomach. And she was helpless to fight for Graham or herself, forced to watch Rafe drag him into the doorway.

Bastard!

I’m not one to let opportunity pass me by, little Nora. And you have already given your word …

Rafe paused in the open doorway with his knife to Graham’s throat again. “Don’t come after me—you’ll hurt yourself trying to pass the ward. It will fade in an hour or so … unless someone else opens the door for you before then. Oh, and don’t get any silly, heroic notions about saving poor Graham, here. Because I think you know what the alternative is, if anything happens to Graham or his adorable kids before the ritual. I’ll be seeing you, though. I’m sure of it.”