The Vine Witch (Vine Witch #1)(69)

“I was going to say nasty old bag of crone bones.” Yvette stepped into the candlelight. “I can’t believe you just left me there.”

“Yvette, no! Go back outside!” Could the girl do nothing she was told to do?

In her hands were three axes from the cooper’s shop, two in the left and one in the right balanced perfectly by its wooden handle. The first left her grip with such ferocity it made a whirring noise in the air. When the blade landed it hit with a hard thud, cleaving the tasting cup at Gerda’s feet in two and sending wine and blood splashing across the witch’s skirt.

“Sorry, old habits.” Yvette cocked her arm again. “We’re taught to just miss our targets in the carnival, you know.”

She tossed off a second ax just as violently. It struck with exact precision, the blade slicing through the end of Gerda’s foot before she could hobble out of the way. The old witch let out a cry to rival a banshee. She twisted her body, tugging her deformed foot free of her shoe, leaving a bloody trail behind.

Yvette cocked her arm. “The next one goes between your eyes if you don’t call off that beastie of yours.”

Gerda hissed and raised a knobby arm to signal the demon. “Kill them!”

The demon pricked its ears and curled its lip. Defying gravity, it leaped from the winepress to the ceiling, where it crawled bat-like along the stone arch above Yvette’s head. Too late she ran for cover behind a wine barrel. The demon pounced, landing on her shoulders. It clamped its teeth on her throwing arm and yanked, dragging her into the open. She released the remaining ax in a painful spasm, and it scuttled across the flagstones.

Yvette’s scream awakened an animalistic fear in Elena that begged her to run, but she held firm, even as Gerda slunk off down a shadowed passageway deep in the cellar. She could not abandon the young woman to that thing. Feet planted, she rubbed her palms together as vigorously as she could until a blue vein of electricity arced in her hands. Infused with the energy of her anger, the lightning bolt shot out at the beast, striking it in the spine. The demon arched its back and grinned as its hair singed and smoked. It released an ungodly howl of laughter that pierced the ear. Cunning Yvette didn’t waste the distraction. She grabbed her silver hairpin and stabbed the creature in the torso. The fiend squealed as if amused by the fight in its prey and then flung her against the wall with one hand. She crumpled like a soggy playing card, a streak of blood trailing from her nose.

The demon drew back its lips, revealing a pair of canine teeth, as it skulked toward Elena. Across the room Jean-Paul groaned as if in agony. From the corner of her eye she saw him pull one hand free from its restraint. She stepped to her left to keep the devil focused on her. If she could lead it far enough away, Jean-Paul might have a chance to free himself. She didn’t dare speak but held eye contact with the beast, luring it toward her. Back, she must lead it back. Her foot nudged the cooper’s ax on the flagstones. The bloody shoe lay nearby. The beast hissed and crept closer.

On instinct she backed inside the witch’s circle, hoping it held some protective energy against the thing. But the moment she stepped across the line, tendrils of murky energy crept up her legs, seething with dark magic. A current of energy ran over her skin, sleek as snakes. The demon held back, studying her, watching for what she would do with the magic.

She took the gamble. Elena drew the bierhexe’s magic into her hands as a thread of saliva slipped out of the demon’s mouth. Miraculously, the magic held together like a ball of static that bit at her skin. The beast crouched, legs ready to lunge. With fingers quivering, she unleashed the sphere of crackling energy. The blast hit the creature full in the muzzle, but instead of setting it afire as she hoped, the energy enveloped the demon’s body in glowing green light.

The thing’s hair thickened, its snout elongated, its teeth and claws curved and sharpened, and then it stood on its hind legs, displaying the full height of a grown man. The fiend roared at her, its breath reeking of spoiled meat.

Her mouth convulsed as if to scream. It merely grinned back. And though the demon didn’t speak aloud, she understood every word directed at her as it inched closer. “That old hexe’s instincts were right about you,” it said, unfurling a pair of leather wings. “Your cursed blood only enhances the dark energy.” It licked its lips, tasting her magic in the air. “Pity you won’t be joining us in everlasting life, but you’re going to taste deliciously wicked when I tear your throat out.”

Jean-Paul let out an agonizing yell as he scraped his chest against the press to free himself of its grip. She heard a rib snap. The demon heard it, too, and just for a second seemed to consider which was the better of two meals.

Her eyes darted from Jean-Paul to the beast. It growled low and hungry. She pulled the cochoir from the small of her back and waved the curved blade in front of her as she inched backward. There were no more magic spells. “Get out,” she shouted to Jean-Paul, not daring to take her eyes off the demon a second time. “Take Yvette with you.”

“Elena!”

The beast pounced, fangs bared. It pinned her against a row of barrels, its teeth sinking into the triangle of flesh above her collarbone. She’d thought she’d known pain when Old Fox took her toe, but it was nothing compared to the electric stars that flashed in her eyes. Jean-Paul’s voice shouted at her to hold on. Fight, Elena, fight! She swiped the curved edge of the knife against the thick hide of the demon, and it answered by sinking its teeth deeper. A strangled animallike shriek crawled out of her throat. She tried to push the thing off, to wriggle loose, to flee, anything to be free of its bite. But its grip was too strong, its teeth too practiced at their purpose. Her blood was being drawn into its mouth.