Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1)(82)

“Stay back!” I jabbed the tongs at him again for good measure. “Don’t come any closer!”

“I’m going to cut you into fucking pieces.” Grue dove at me again, but I dodged, swinging the tongs wildly. Andre’s knife slashed past my face. I jerked backward, but Grue was already there. His hand caught the end of the tongs, and he ripped them from my grasp with brutal force.

I flung my hand toward the sand bag, desperately guiding the pattern to his eyes—and away from mine.

Andre screamed as the sand rose in a wave and pelted toward him. He stumbled back, hands flying to his face, tearing at his skin, attempting to scrub away the tiny knives in his eyes. I watched in wild fascination—my own eyes perfectly intact—until Grue moved beside me. A blur. I spun, lifting my hands in self-defense, but my mind turned sluggish and slow. He lifted his fist. I stared at it. Unable to comprehend what he meant to do with it. Unable to anticipate his next move. Then he struck.

Your vision for his.

Pain burst from my nose, and I staggered backward. He grinned, wrapping his hand around my throat and lifting me off my feet. I gasped and clawed at his hand, drawing blood, but his grip didn’t loosen.

“I’ve never killed a witch before. I should’ve known. You’ve always been a freak.” He leaned closer, his breath hot and foul against my cheek. “After I cut you up, I’m going to send you back to your blue pig, piece by fucking piece.”

I struggled harder, lights popping in my vision.

“Don’t kill her too quickly.” Tears and blood streamed from Andre’s ruined eyes. The sand had fallen now, mingling with the golden dust at his feet. The gold winked once more before vanishing. He bent to retrieve his knife. “I want to enjoy this.”

Grue’s grip loosened. I coughed and spluttered as his hand fisted in my hair instead, yanking my head back and exposing my throat.

Andre’s knife found the scar there. “Looks like somebody beat us to it.”

White dotted my vision, and I thrashed against them.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Grue jerked my hair, and pain radiated across my scalp. “Not again, Lou Lou.” He jerked his head toward the knife at my throat. “Not there. Too quick. Start on her face. Cut off an ear—no, wait.” He grinned down at me, eyes burning with true hatred. “Let’s carve out her heart instead. That’ll be the first piece we send to the pig.”

Andre dragged the knife down my throat to my chest. I focused on his revolting face, willing another pattern to emerge. Any pattern.

And there it came, glowing brighter than before. Taunting me.

I didn’t hesitate. Clenching my fingers, I jerked the cord sharply, and the coals in the forge careened toward us. I braced for the pain, elbowing Grue in the stomach and twisting away. When the coals struck their faces, my own skin burned. But I knew this pain. I could endure it. I had endured it.

Gritting my teeth, I seized Andre’s knife and plunged it into his throat, slashing through skin and tendon and bone. His scream ended in a gurgle. Grue lunged toward me blindly, bellowing with fury, but I used his momentum to drive the blade into his chest—and his stomach, and his shoulder, and his throat. His blood sprayed across my cheek.

When their bodies thudded to the floor, I collapsed right along with them, pawing at Grue’s corpse for Angelica’s Ring. I thrust it back on my finger as a knock sounded on the door.

“Is everything okay in there?”

I froze at the unfamiliar voice, panting and shaking. The doorknob rattled, and a new voice joined the first. “The key is broken off.”

“I heard shouting.” Another knock, louder this time. “Is anyone in there?”

The doorknob rattled again. “Hello? Can someone hear me?”

“What’s going on here?”

That voice I knew. Strong. Confident. Damnably inconvenient.

Leaping to my feet, I staggered to the water barrel, praying the door would hold against Reid’s strength. I cursed quietly. Of course Reid was here, now, with magic lingering in the air and two corpses burning on the floor. I slid a little in their blood as I tipped the barrel. The water cascaded over them, diluting the worst of the smell. The embers hissed at the contact, smoking slightly, and a sickening, charred scent swathed the room. I tilted the barrel and doused myself too.

The voices outside paused as the barrel slipped from my fingers and crashed to the floor. Then—

“Someone is in there.” Without waiting for confirmation, Reid kicked the door. It bowed under his weight. When he kicked again, the wood gave an ominous crack. I lunged toward the forge and pumped the bellows feverishly. Coal smoke poured into the room, thick and black. The door splintered, but I kept pumping. Kept pumping until my eyes watered and my throat burned. Until I couldn’t smell the magic. Until I couldn’t smell anything.

I dropped the bellows just as the door exploded.

Sunlight streamed in, illuminating Reid’s silhouette in the whorls of smoke. Massive. Tense. Waiting. He’d drawn his Balisarda, and the sapphire glinted through the shifting smoke. Two concerned citizens stood behind him. As the smoke cleared, I better saw his face. His eyes swept across the scene quickly, narrowing at the blood and bodies—and landing on me. He blanched. “Lou?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My knees gave way.

He moved forward quickly—ignoring the blood, water, and smoke—and dropped to his knees before me. “Are you all right?” He gripped my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. Pushed my wet hair from my face, tipped my chin, touched the marks on my throat. His fingers stilled on the thin scar there. The cold mask of fury cracked, leaving only the frantic man beneath. “Did they—did they hurt you?”