Blackbird Crowned (The Witch King's Crown #3) - Keri Arthur Page 0,35

and sent blood, brains, and gore flying.

Jess, putting her sharpshooter skills to good use.

I pushed upright; weariness hit like a hammer, and I swayed briefly, battling to remain standing against the specter of exhaustion and pain that threatened to sweep me away.

Up ahead, Winter’s two companions lay on the ground, their bodies cleaved in two. Luc was now visible, but he was surrounded by half a dozen demons who’d come from god knew where … Another screech had my gaze jumping up. All I saw was demon claws.

I threw myself sideways, hitting the ground hard on my injured arm. Agony bloomed, and a bellow tore up my throat, but I somehow managed to clamp down on it. The last thing I wanted was to distract Luc, however momentarily. Tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t need to see to know where the demon was. I could feel him on the wind. I flicked up a hand, and the air responded, swirling toward the diving demon. He abruptly switched direction, but the maelstrom caught him and sent him tumbling toward Ainslyn’s shore and Jess.

I twisted around to watch; multiple wounds appeared across his body, and black blood flowed. He was dead long before the wind smashed him onto the rocks.

I sucked in a breath, then once again wearily pushed to my feet. Everything ached, and my vision continued to go in and out of focus. At least the wind’s whispers were clear of immediate threat, even if the sound of fighting still echoed. But the demons surrounding Luc now numbered three, and Hecate’s thirst was far from quenched. Two of the remaining demons were dispatched as I walked over to Winter.

Though he was stuck neck-deep in my wave of earth and stone, his expression was furious rather than fearful. That probably wouldn’t change now, even if this version had run when confronted by an example of my power.

“Before you die, I wanted you to know that I will stop you. All of you.” My voice was flat, devoid of fury and anger. It had all burned out of me; the only thing that remained was bitter determination. “Neither Max nor anyone else in Darkside knows as much about the De Montfort line and the king’s sword as they think.”

Winter sneered. “The sword—and the only man who can wield it—is ours. He will open the main gate, and there is nothing you can do to stop him or us.”

“A pleasant fantasy, but a fantasy nonetheless. Or did you think there was only ever one sword made?”

He snorted, though a touch of uncertainty flicked through his eyes. “You think we’d believe such a patently obvious lie?”

“I’m many things, Winter, but a liar isn’t one of them. Ask Max. Or rather, have one of your counterparts ask him, because you’ll certainly never have the chance to deceive him again.”

And with that, I asked the earth to complete the cage. She responded so swiftly—so eagerly—that the ground vibrated underneath my feet, forcing me to fling out my arms in an effort to maintain balance. The ground swept up his face, filling his mouth and nose, and cutting off his air. Then stone encased him, until all that remained was a small monolith that vaguely resembled humanity.

As deaths went, it was far too damn swift, given the pain and hurt he’d inflicted on someone I cared about, but I doubted that would have stopped him passing on the information about the sword—not if all the versions of him truly did share a consciousness.

I was okay with that. I wanted them to know we were coming after them. Wanted them to fear that the sword they owned—via the man who’d raised it—was not the only sword of power.

If nothing else, it might just delay any planned attack against the gate.

Of course, it would undoubtedly cause them to ramp up the attacks on Mo and me, but that was infinitely better than Mia, Ginny, or even Barney, getting caught in the crossfire.

I drew in a deep breath, then glanced up as Luc approached. There was a small backpack slung around one shoulder, and his clothes were splattered with demon blood, but other than the cut across his cheek—one that looked to have been made with a knife rather than a bullet—he appeared unhurt.

I smiled wearily. “Glad you managed to join the party.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. That was quite a show you put on.” The lightness in his voice failed to reach his eyes. “Why