Blackbird Crowned (The Witch King's Crown #3) - Keri Arthur Page 0,4

exception for Blackbirds.

For several seconds, those shadows neither moved into the store nor back out of the giant’s way. Then they parted, and a woman stepped out. She was tall, curvaceous, and dressed from head to toe in black. What surprised me was the sword strapped across her back. As far as I’d been aware, only the male members of the Durant line of witches could wield the spirit blades. There were twelve in existence—one for each of the Blackbirds who stood at the round table—and each sword contained the soul of a witch whose penance on death was to destroy the dark forces whose power they’d coveted in life.

Of course, that didn’t mean more swords couldn’t have been made in recent years, or that the males of the Durant line were in fact the only ones with the power or the ability to wield them.

It also didn’t mean this sword was a spirit sword. It might simply be regular old body-slicing steel.

The Durant glanced around, her gaze sweeping across the three shelving aisles before returning to the one hiding me. My breath caught in my throat, and I froze, mentally crossing all things that she wasn’t sensing Nex’s continuing pulse. While her energy was more an electrical discharge along the same lines of lightning than magic, it was now so damn strong that the faint smell of sulfur touched the air. Which was yet another new development when it came to these knives and one I could do without at this particular moment.

After several more seconds, the Durant turned and began to weave an exception into Mo’s magic—something that absolutely should not have been possible. Not by anyone unfamiliar with her magic, at any rate. Mo wasn’t just an ordinary witch—she was an old-fashioned mage, proficient in both elemental magic and spellcraft. She basically held more power in her pinkie finger than most witches had in their entire being.

The only person who could have told her how to safely alter Mo’s spells was Max—but why would he do that if the Durant worked for a different faction?

It made no sense.

But then, few things did these days.

I tightened my grip on Nex’s hilt, then stepped clear of the shelving and silently walked forward.

“I’d rather you didn’t weave a door into our magic for your hulking friend,” I said, voice flat. “The last time one of those bastards got in here, he half destroyed the place.”

She made no sound or response; she didn’t even look around. She simply wrapped the shadows back around her body and disappeared from sight.

Or so she thought.

While I couldn’t physically see her, I could still see the blur of her shadows as she came at me. I had no idea whether this was due to my death grip on Nex or a result of my deepening connection with Luc Durant—a Blackbird who did hold a seat at the round table—but either way, it was a useful development.

Particularly in a situation like this.

I pretended to look around, as if confused by her sudden disappearance, but every sense I had was attuned to her silent approach. When the breeze of her incoming sword blow was close enough to wash across my skin, I dove away, rolled back up, then spun and lashed out with one booted foot, attempting to kick her legs out from underneath her.

She didn’t fall. Not entirely.

Once again, the air gave warning. I drew Nex and Vita, then thrust upright to meet the blow. Sparks flew as the crossed blades caught and held invisible steel. Nex’s lightning flared brighter and, just for an instant, I heard a scream—one that was high-pitched and not of this world.

I frowned but sent Nex’s lightning up the sword onto its hilt, and then across the hand that held it. The stench of burning skin filled the air, and the woman hissed, quickly releasing her weapon. But as the sword clattered to the floor near my feet, the shadows moved, giving me a brief glimpse of the knuckle-duster coming straight at my face. I leaned back but not fast enough. Metal scraped across my chin, drawing blood.

I lashed out with Vita, slicing through flesh and bone as easily as shadow. Blood sprayed, and the woman howled, a sound of agony and fury combined. I didn’t give her time to react—I stepped back, raised a booted foot, and kicked at the deep center of her shadowed form. There was a grunt, followed by a crash. The shelving shook as books and