was on Emmett, his Nightwalker mouth open, ready to rip out Emmett’s throat.
“Ansel, no!” I cried.
Ansel, snarling in rage, wrapped his thin but muscular arms around Emmett and shoved him into the huge slab of sandstone. Emmett, momentarily startled, let whatever magic he’d been preparing die back.
Ansel’s mouth came down on Emmett’s neck. I rushed forward at the same moment, grabbing Ansel to yank him away. I might as well have tried to yank a sequoia out of the ground with my bare hands. Ansel had latched on to Emmett’s throat, and Emmett’s blood flowed into his mouth.
A second later, Ansel flew backward about twenty feet and landed hard on his back on the desert ground. I heard bones crunch, and Ansel’s initial shriek died into a groan of pain.
Emmett took out his handkerchief again and dabbed at the blood dripping down his neck. “The mirror, please.”
I resisted running to Ansel to make certain he was all right. Nightwalkers healed quickly, but pain and weakness made them blood-frenzied. He might grab the nearest person—me—and drain me to restore his strength before he could stop himself. I had to let him lie there, moaning softly.
“I’m not going to say anything stupid like over my dead body,” I said to Emmett. “Anyway, it will be over your dead body. I’m not giving up the mirror.”
Emmett’s usual calm expression creased with anger. “You have no idea of its potential power, little girl. No idea how to tap into it. I do. Think of it this way—it would be like you watching a complete novice trying to work an amazing camera you’d give anything to have. Why this incompetent fool has a piece of equipment that sophisticated while you’re stuck with your phone camera is beyond your comprehension.”
“The difference is, I wouldn’t kill someone for their camera,” I said clearly.
“You would if it were the only one of its kind in the world.” Emmett’s glasses began to shine again. “You’d do anything in your power to get your hands on it.”
I don’t think I’d understood how important the mirror was to him until that moment. I’d been cautious and angry about Emmett’s attempt to steal the mirror but equally determined not to let him. Now as he looked at me, I realized he’d stop at nothing to reach his goal.
He was going to kill me, Mick, and anyone who stood in his way until the mirror was his. Not only kill us but torture us if necessary until we gave it up. Then he’d kill us.
Why not simply give it to him? A voice inside me whispered. He’d go away, you’d be rid of the smart-ass mirror, and life would go on.
It was tempting, that thought. No more mirror making lewd comments on my sex life, no more show tunes in the middle of the night, no more hours of listening to it weep for no reason followed by a longer period of hysterical laughter. Magic mirrors developed their own eccentric personalities, and most of them were insane, so I’d been told. Knowing my mirror, I believed it.
I glared at Emmett. “Stop putting thoughts into my head. I’m not giving it up.”
Emmett sent me a little smile, and the diamonds on his glasses flashed. “I’m not in your head, Stormwalker. You’re thinking those thoughts all by yourself.” He glanced at the filled-in wash behind me. “Good place for a fight, don’t you think?”
No, it was a terrible place, and he knew it. “How about we settle this somewhere less vortex-y?” I said. “Have a fair fight. You want to win by might, not trickery, right?”
Emmett chuckled. “You have amusing ideas. No, Janet. I just want to win.”
He let fly a wave of nasty magic without any warning. All I could do was slam myself to the ground, my face meeting weeds and red dirt as the spell flashed past. When I lifted my head, I saw I’d only given myself a temporary reprieve, because the dark arrow of magic homed in on me like a heat-seeking missile.
If I didn’t raise a shield of Beneath magic, I’d be dead, or possibly so weak he’d crush my bones with his Prada shoe. If I did raise the shield, I’d likely rip open the vortex ten feet away.
As I hovered between life and death, I dimly wondered how Emmett would fare against my mother and her minions once they poured out of the hole I’d rip open. Not well, I guessed. But then, I’d probably not fare