But for the moment she was more interested in the stark void in the back of her mind.
“Marika?” she whispered.
Yannah smiled, revealing her pointed teeth. “Ding dong the witch is dead.”
Kata sucked in a shocked breath, feeling nothing but a savage flare of satisfaction. It had taken years to accept that the creature who walked around with her sister’s face wasn’t Marika, but instead the coldblooded bitch who’d killed her. Now she had no trouble rejoicing in the thought of the world without the evil vampire.
She did, however, have difficulty in believing she was really and truly rid of her.
“You’re certain she’s dead?”
“Quite, quite dead.” Yannah wrinkled her tiny nose. “A shame really.”
“Shame?” Kata’s fury (that had had four long, hideous centuries to stew) abruptly boiled over. “I hope the bitch burns in the pits of hell for all eternity.”
“Oh, I’m certain justice will be served.”
“Good.”
“But you aren’t silly enough to think your sister . . .”
“That creature was not my sister,” Kata hissed. “She killed my beloved Marika and stole her body.”
“Yes, yes.” Yannah waved an impatient hand. “Cue the violins.”
Kata frowned. “What?”
Without warning the small demon moved forward and poked her finger in the middle of Kata’s stomach.