dying here would serve my father right. It would definitely get his attention if he spent days scrubbing my blood from the threadbare rug in the hall. Assuming he didn’t toss it away like he had discarded me. The rest of me wanted to keep living more than I wanted to exact some kind of twisted and petty revenge death.
Death was pretty much the opposite outcome I was hoping for.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The pixies under glass got one last look from me before I headed back down the hall toward the main room. I didn’t have the heart to search the rest of the den. What was the point? If my father had been here and heard us tromping around his house, he would have put in an appearance by this point.
That no one had jumped out or yelled get off my lawn told me Black Dog wasn’t in residence. My final hope extinguished. It was me versus the hounds now. No one could save me but myself.
Diode’s furious scream urged my feet into a run. I grasped the doorknob and held on as the den rattled. When the tremors settled, I flung open the door in time to watch the first hound leap through the opening they had made. Others poured through after it, filling the room with snarling, yapping dogs.
Rook and Diode were nowhere in sight.
The first hound’s nostrils flared. He swung his head, saw me and charged.
Too slow. Shock had numbed my reflexes.
They had left me. Rook left me.
The dog’s shoulder hit the door and flung me back against the wall. It skidded, snarling and snapping into the hall with me. From the corner of my eye, I spotted the others noticing what had happened and running full force at me with their teeth gleaming.
I slammed the door shut and grasped the handle with my left hand, willing enough magic into it to, I hoped, fuse the metal and buy me a few minutes. A low snarl jerked me around, and I flattened against the door. As growls rose in eager chorus behind me, the hound in front of me licked his muzzle.
He could have been any of them, but I got the sinking feeling he was Raven and that I was truly caught. His eyes gave him away. They were twin voids, black, eternal and shimmering with emotion and experiences too complex for me to untangle at a glance. They reminded me of Rook’s before I knew him better.
“Nice doggy.” I lifted my hands. “You don’t want to—”
He lunged. I ducked and rolled under him, pushing to my feet to brace for his next charge. Raven leapt for my throat. Kill or be killed. I shoved my hands out in front to deflect him and ended up clutching a fistful of fur. His teeth snapped an inch from my nose. Hot spittle flew in my face.
My left palm flooded with all the energy I could syphon in those split seconds, and I fed it to him.
Raven’s back bowed. He yelped and tried to backpedal. Too late. Magic grabbed him, and it wasn’t letting go. Power seeped under his skin, lifting his fur on end. Deeper and deeper it plumbed.
The hounds were soul catchers covered in fur. They were hollow, unthinking beasts who lived for the thrill of bringing down prey and pleasing their master, filling that aching emptiness. This hound wasn’t like that.
His soul burned white hot and sizzled wherever tendrils of my magic brushed against it. Oh yes. This was Raven. This was old magic, an old soul, and it hadn’t lived this long by yielding in battle.
The wood at my back thumped as bodies smacked it. If they burst through, it was over. Staring into Raven’s cold eyes made me wonder if it wasn’t already.
Drawing magic up from my toes, through my body and into my fingertips, I slammed every last drop of power I had left into him. His body seized. His heart stuttered. Before he recovered, I guided my energy there, let it encase the struggling organ, and then I ripped with all my might. I tugged and pulled him magically while our physical bodies remained locked in place with his teeth at my throat.
His snarling choked to a whine. Shock rounded his eyes the instant before his soul flickered and snuffed, suffusing my limbs with so much power I vibrated with my heady newfound strength. With morbid pleasure, I skinned Raven.
One minute I held the hound by its throat, the next I clutched