exposed skin was black and blue or covered in blood.
“Shame,” I said.
Shamus didn’t move. Not an inch.
I took a cautious step back and shook Shame’s shoulder. He was too caught in the rapture. I didn’t know how to break whatever spell he was using.
Inside my head, my dad had gone very, very quiet. He didn’t seem afraid of the murderer. No, he seemed terrified. And angry. Bad combination for a powerful dead guy who could run my body on remote control.
“You betrayed me,” the Necromorph growled quietly, but not too quietly for me, not for my Hound ears. I could hear him across any distance. “And now your death will free me.”
The murderer turned, lost again to the shadows.
I heard a high, muffled scream.
Shit, shit.
Quick mental calculation: Shamus zoned out. Zay and Chase running down the Hungers. I could feel their heartbeats, still fast, still alive. They might even be done killing them by now. They might be back any minute.
Shit, shit, shit.
Tomi didn’t have time for any minute. I strode around Shamus. Careful not to touch the Hungers, I pulled Zayvion’s machete out of one of the remaining creature’s skull.
Black ichor clung to the blade and then was absorbed, the faint ribbons of glyphs worked into the steel sucking away the blood.
Time to find out what this thing could do to a Necromorph.
I held the machete low against my side and jogged to the back of the building. I sang my Mary Mack song. I needed to keep a clear head. A cool head. And a Disbursement. Needed one of those too. I decided on body ache, afraid to add any more to the headache and push it up into deadly levels.
Dying was not in my plans for the day.
If you have a suggestion, I thought to my father, who had been too silent for too long, I’d love to hear it.
He surprised me by answering. Let him kill the girl. While he feeds on her, he will be vulnerable and you can kill him.
No.
The price of one life is nothing to destroying that monstrosity.
I will not stand by and let one of my Hounds—hells, let anyone—die just so I can get a clear shot at that thing, I said.
Allison, he warned.
No. Done. Final.
I slowed and walked down the narrow path behind the shed, brambles as high as my head forming a wall uphill to the left of me, the shed to my right. A pile of discarded wood—two-by-fours and broken pallets—made the footing tricky. There was no room here to swing the machete. I traced an Impact glyph—something strong enough to blow that thing off his feet—with my left hand and held it there, pinched between my fingers, ready for me to fill it with magic.
All it needed to do was buy me some time so I could get in better machete-swinging range.
One metal panel on the back of the shed was rusted and bent open. I glanced in. There was just enough light fingering through cracks at the roofline and seams of the wall panels that I could make out the figures in the otherwise empty building. The Necromorph stood on all fours, rocking side to side, his head low. Tomi sat beside him, her arms extended to chest height, fingers spread wide, shaking, but poised to cast magic. Even in the low light I could see her eyes were wide and blank.
My heartbeat kicked into fight-or-flight, but my mind went totally clear. I could do this. Take that bastard down and save Tomi. As a matter of fact, I was looking forward to this.
We could end this. End him. He could be the proof that dark magic is too dangerous, even in good hands. The end of those who seek to open the gates and bring Mikhail back. You and I have the power to change which magic is used and how. We could rule the Authority, if we so wished. My father was a cold fire in the center of my head, raging, babbling.
Tell me later, I said. When I’m not busy staying alive.
I stepped quietly into the shed, holding to the shadows alongside the wall, the machete’s blade raised so I could swing quickly.
The murderer growled, and Tomi whimpered again.
First, throw the Impact to knock him out. Next, go in swinging.
It wasn’t a big plan, but it was simple. I liked simple.
Allison, my dad said. Wait for him to feed on the girl. He will be vulnerable.
Like hell, I said.
The thing sunk fangs into