Ancient Magic (Dragon's Gift: The Huntress #1)(5)

“Fine, don’t—” More static broke up Nix’s voice.

“If I’m not out in an hour, remember that I hate lilies,” I said. “Worst funeral flower.”

“But—”

I touched the silver charm around my throat, and its magic went dormant. Only the sound of the shadow demon’s breathing echoed in the chamber.

It was time to get this over with. I was starving, and this was my last gig before the long weekend. My leg screamed as I pushed myself to my feet. Breathe through the pain. It’s just bruising.

I drew my obsidian blades from the sheaths strapped to my thighs and stepped out from behind the boulder. Torchlight reflected wickedly off the black volcanic glass. Lefty and Righty, I called them—not nearly regal enough names for their power—but I’d never been good at clever names.

“Time to go back to hell, fella,” my voice echoed in the stone chamber. “The devil says he’s missin’ ya.”

The shadow demon laughed, his dark gray skin absorbing the light. Fine, it was a little corny, but I was tired.

The demon raised his hand to throw another blast of magic at me. I flung Righty at him, dodging the whoosh of magic that he managed to get off before my blade sunk into his arm.

Perfect hit. Ten points.

He roared in pain as heat seared my shoulder through my leather jacket.

Oh, so he wanted to play that way? With heat as well as wind? I thought wistfully of blasting him back with a reflection of his own power. His magic manifested as burning smoke. I’d give him a flaming tornado.

Except that was the problem. My magic was too powerful for me to control. I just blew shit up if I tried. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, so I didn’t use my power. But I didn’t hide that I was a Mirror Mage—strong supernaturals could tell I had magic. If I didn’t use it often, my magical signature appeared weak to those strong enough to sense others’ powers.

So I’d gotten really good with weapons.

I pricked the back of my hand with Lefty before immediately throwing the blade at the demon’s heart. My blood ignited a spell that would call its twin back to me.

As Lefty hurtled toward the demon, Righty pulled itself out of the demon’s arm and flew through the air toward me. As long as I was quick—which I usually was—I always had a dagger at hand.

I reached up and snagged Righty as I kept an eye on the dagger that zoomed toward the demon. He used magic to blast it away.

“That’s all you’ve got?” he roared.

I dove behind the nearest column, a stone warrior woman in a flowing cloak, both of her hands gripping swords.

A guardian. Of me, I decided.

I swiped my dagger over the small amount of blood welling on the back of my hand so that my other blade returned to me.

The demon roared again, his muscles bulging beneath his thin shirt as he drew his arms back to throw twin blasts of magic at me. All supernaturals had different gifts and his seemed to be throwing blazing blasts of smoke that blew things apart like a grenade.

The smoke blast hit my guardian column. Her bottom half blew apart, rock and debris flying across the temple. With an enormous cracking sound, the guardian crashed to the ground. The stone floor vibrated beneath my feet. Dust filled the air until I could hardly see.

Guilt ate at me over the damage done to such an ancient place. Don’t worry about that now. Fix it later. I jumped onto the guardian, who was now lying on the ground in several large pieces, all lined up in a row. I raced across her skirt, jumping from piece to piece until I was right above the shadow demon.

I leapt for him.

He looked up at the last moment, his eyes widening. He twisted and Lefty sank into his meaty shoulder. With a roar, he threw me off him. I skidded across the floor, then groped my way behind the top of the fallen column. He was strong, both in magic and form, and his magic smelled ancient. Like dust. I’d bet he was an old demon.

“Blades?” he yelled. “You come at me with blades? Use your magic and give me a real fight!”

“What? You bored? Been guarding this tomb a long time, eh?” I said as I flung Righty at him.

It sank into his chest, nearly a perfect shot at his heart. Or at least, where I figured a shadow demon’s heart might be.

He yanked it out and said, “You have no idea.”

I swallowed hard.

Missed his heart, I guess.

Quickly, before he could fling the dagger, I called it back to me. Righty pulled itself out of the demon’s hand and flew home.

The demon didn’t startle, nor did he look weakened by the dark blood leaking from the wound in his chest. Old and strong, like I’d thought. Even if I hadn’t hit his heart, he should at least be incapacitated. But this one was different. He wasn’t even winded from the blade that had sunk six inches into his chest.

“Well? Won’t you give me a real fight? You are one of the three. Strong enough to fight, but you don’t.”

My heart tried to climb into my throat. “What does that mean?”

The three? Did he mean me and my deirfiúr? How could he know about Del and Nix?

“What do you mean?” I screamed when he didn’t answer quickly enough.

“You don’t use your powers.” He threw another blast of magic at me. Blazing smoke blasted away my column barricade, and I scrambled back.