Sorceress, Interrupted - By A. J. Menden Page 0,25

sad, empty eyes and thought the words directly at him, into him, through him.

“I tuoi attacchi farranno del male a te.” Your attacks will harm you, I incanted.

Donald eyed me quizzically. His poor addled brain had clearly forgotten that I cast my magic in Italian.

“Sweetheart, you don’t want to do this,” I said gently, hoping that enough of him was still in there to understand.

With an unearthly howl, he threw another chunk of wall. The wood and plaster hurtled toward me but then, almost like a boomerang, reversed itself. Donald had just enough sense and reflexes left to dive away from it, and it crashed into the wall behind him.

“I warned you,” I said as he glared at me hatefully. “Now please just stop and let us help you.”

He raised his hands and tried to hit me with an energy spell, one that magic-users like to call the Tazer. The lighting shot forward but followed the same path as the previous attack, rounding on him with full force. His body flew up into the air, hit the wall behind him, fell to the floor and jerked and twitched. It shuddered to a halt. That was all. He was down, perhaps permanently.

Someone grabbed me from behind, whipping me into the nearby wall. “You hurt him, you bitch!” I was slammed into the wall again. “You’re supposed to be helping him and you killed him instead!”

“What the hell, Joseph?” I shouted. “I didn’t do anything; he did it to himself. I told him to stop. And, aren’t you forgetting that he just tried to kill you?”

“You killed my brother,” Joseph sobbed. He looked like he wanted to kill me.

“Look around you, Joseph! The walls were on fire, and he threw chunks of it at me and Cyrus. He tried to kill us. I thought you were dead! He was too far gone. Whatever attacked you both drove him completely out of his mind, and the same thing could have happened to you if you hadn’t run away.”

Joseph and I were distracted by a voice. “No, no, don’t help me get up. Your concern is touching. Really,” Cyrus was saying, pulling himself upright among some debris, still holding his head. “I’m fine. Maybe a few internal injuries. Just a little concussion.”

“Nothing to worry about with you,” I tossed back. “Always knew you were hardheaded.”

Of course, Donald wasn’t dead, and this was the moment he chose—like any good movie villain—to come charging down the steps. I immediately began a shielding spell, but it was going to finish too late to protect the three of us.

Surprisingly, Cyrus had it under control. He simply stepped in front of me and punched Donald in the stomach. Donald went down. “Time to go to sleep now,” he said, bending over to do some sort of complicated nerve pinch. Our attacker slumped over, unconscious.

“Didn’t know you were a street fighter,” I said, surprised. His frame certainly didn’t suggest he spent a lot of time in a boxing ring.

Cyrus shrugged as he straightened. “Just another skill I picked up along the way.” Taking a step, he staggered and slumped down on one knee. “Don’t suppose you know any of those healing spells the Old One does . . . ? Because my head is spinning and the sides of my vision are starting to go black.”

“Poor baby,” I mocked gently. But I was actually feeling kind of warm toward him. I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, almost gently. “Adesso va meglio. There. All better.”

He stood up, absently rubbing his head. “That did work, thanks.”

“No problem,” I said. Then: “Thanks for getting in front of me like that, all heroic-like. Hanging out with the EHJ is starting to rub off, I guess.” I gave him a slight smile and let my dark hair fall into my face. I never felt comfortable being genuine, even if it was just thanking someone.

“Anything for the damsel in distress,” he said with a grin. It was warm, and his eyes kept trying to catch mine.

I gave a toss of my head, clearing the hair from my eyes and whatever moment was happening between us, trying to get back to familiar territory. I sank back into my powerful-bad-girl second skin. “Did I look like I was in distress? Please. I was worried about you two. I’ve been handling this kind of thing since before you were born.”

A bit of the heat behind his smile cooled, and he shook his head as if he