Binding the Shadows (Arcadia Bell #3)(68)

Very, very powerful.

No blue dot appeared. But within a blink, my vision morphed. It was still dark, but everything solid was swathed in silver, as if someone had dumped a vat of mercury over my surroundings—the cars, the trees, the circle of Lon’s driveway and every bump of gravel that paved it.

I didn’t create the silver light: I was the light. And I cast myself over the landscape, illuminating everything in my path.

Including Yvonne.

Her skin gleamed like Priya’s, bathed in an unearthly quicksilver glow. Her horns jutted backward like two slender candlesticks molded from pewter. And when my gaze locked with hers, I watched emotion play over her eyes in quick succession. Certainty slipped into confusion . . . confusion dimmed to fear.

She should be afraid. I was dangerous.

“What is this?” I heard her say in a faraway voice. She tried to retreat, but there was nowhere to go. Her back hit the car. I took a step toward her and she bolted.

She darted across the driveway toward the tree line, racing into the shadows. I flew after her like a bullet, with no thought to her long legs outpacing mine. I lunged and snagged her mid-thigh, tackling her to the wet grass. She shouted angrily. Screamed. Twisted in my grip to face me. To fight me. Her arms flailed as I straddled her. She reared back and punched the side of my head. The pain was shocking, but not enough to distract me when she tried it again with her other hand. I blocked her with my arms and quickly pinned both of hers to the ground.

Heka flew out of me and came back fully charged with moon energy. I was vaguely aware that my mother might be listening somewhere in the Æthyr. Best to be quick about this, before I heard her horrible voice in my head.

Or before I fell prey to Yvonne’s knack.

Already, the soft perfume of her skin and hair were worming their way inside me like a siren’s call, beckoning me to succumb to her. I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated.

How to remove the transmutation spell? Shit. I didn’t know. I pushed kindled Heka through my hands into Yvonne, sending out a magical search party inside her veins, poking around for the transmutation magick.

Something solidified between us. The Heka was creating a bridge. For several moments, I felt intimately bonded to her . . . not in a sexual way, but that was the closest comparison I could fathom. I suddenly knew more about her than I could learn about her from years of conversation. It was overwhelming. I briefly wondered if this is how Lon felt using his knack. Did he see inside people this way?

And if he could see Yvonne like I was seeing her right at that moment, I wondered if he would do what I was going to do, or if he would pull the plug and stop right there.

Because buried within her cells, I saw her demonic soul. And the stitching that secured it to her body was drenched in a deep, impenetrable sadness.

My eyes welled with tears. It was so overwhelming, I almost pulled back.

But, just out of reach, I suddenly felt the buried magick. The transmutation spell. It was a living, breathing thing, attached to her like a parasite. And its function was like a spiritual dam between her soul and body. A switch that opened and closed, letting the demon soul expand at will.

And I could almost taste the magic that gave it life.

I had no time to flounder or doubt myself. I heard things in the distance. Things watching and approaching. Maybe I was paranoid, thinking of what Priya had told me. But I didn’t want to find out. I just wanted to get the hell of there.

Using all my willpower, I poured kindled Heka into that magical dam inside Yvonne, and I ripped it out by the roots.

She screamed like I’d struck her.

My eyes snapped open. I snatched my hand up and regarded a soft pink glow grasped within my fingers. My mind homed in on the memories of the pink magick I’d seen months ago, inside the cannery, where giant magical cockroaches spilled out of Jesse Bishop’s bones. And then in the putt-putt golf course, where the earthquake spell decimated an impossible stretch of land and nearly pulled me underground.

Æthyric magic is pink. Or, at least the magic used by archdemon Duke Chora.

The transmutation spell wasn’t an earthly spell.

Terrified, I flung the pink glow from my hand. It exploded like the head of a dandelion, pink splinters floating away, then disappearing into shadows. And it wasn’t the only thing disappearing: Yvonne’s horns withdrew into her head as her halo went crazy: green and gold flashed intermittently, like a stoplight on the fritz. She flailed. Kicked. Cussed.

The gold sizzled like a campfire being doused. Nothing remained but a soft, dull green nimbus. I’d done it!

Then her hands flew to my throat, cutting off my oxygen.

Damn! She was stronger than she looked. I gripped her forearms and tried to force her back, but her muscles were stone. Pain ringed my neck. My larynx felt like it was close to exploding. A horrible tingling sensation spread down my arms. She scissored her legs around me and pushed. Before I knew it, I was on my back and she was choking the f*cking life out me.

Instead of panicking—and I probably should’ve been panicking at this point—I became incensed.

It happened instinctually, just like in Hajo’s parking garage. My tail lashed out like a whip and wrapped around her chest. I felt the material of her dress beneath it. Felt the bouncy give in her ribs as I constricted around them. I could tell the breaking point was coming soon. But it wasn’t enough. I was blind with fury.

I wanted to obliterate her.