I reached for Amaya, then stopped. Would the Rakshasa be able to sense her energy? I had no idea, so I left her sheathed. In this sort of situation, it was better to be safe than sorry. The decision, however, did not please my sword, and she hissed and grumbled in the back of my mind.
I padded across to the door and opened it slightly. There wasn't anything to see in the hall or anything to hear in the room opposite. But as I stood there, an ill wind began to gather. It stirred the hairs on the back of my neck, making them stand on end. I shivered, my fists clenched so tightly against the need to draw my sword that my fingernails were digging into my palms. I might have felt stronger—safer—when she was in my hand, but the energy that dripped off her surely wouldn't go unnoticed by a creature born to the world of spirits rather than flesh.
The wind gathered strength, filling the air with such darkness that it became harder and harder to breathe. And the desire to rush into the room opposite to see what was happening warred with the need to remain safe, but I knew I would only hinder rather than help. I had to let Azriel do what he'd been trained to do.
I opened the door a little farther. No sound came from the room opposite. Jerry might have entered, but he was no longer moving around. Maybe the poison the Rakshasa had administered when she'd slashed his back had taken full effect, and he simply lay there, waiting for the approach of his doom.
And it was certainly coming.
The sense of menace in the air was so sharp it felt like a knife cutting through my soul.
Then, down at the far end of the hall, something moved.
I froze, breathing labored and Amaya screaming furiously in my head. The movement wasn't repeated. My gaze darted through the shadows, but I couldn't see the threat that every sense—and my sword—said was there.
And then I realized why.
The threat wasn't in the hall.
It was behind me.
I swung, but it was already far too late.
A smothering blanket of darkness fell around me, and pain exploded. Then there was nothing, simply nothing.
Chapter 13
Waking was an exercise in agony. Every muscle, bone, and fiber ached with a fierceness that had my head spinning and my heart racing. Even my hair felt like it was on fire.