“I assure you, that will not be necessary,” he said.
“Hands. Now,” she barked.
He lowered his hands and grunted as she snapped the cuffs on them.
“Back up, Xtelle,” she said.
“I don’t take orders from you.” She leaned forward, horn inching deeper, and the demon grunted again.
“Xtelle,” I said, “step away from him. Now.”
“I don’t take orders from—”
“Back up or be arrested,” I said.
I thought she was going to push her luck, but wonder of wonders, she stepped back, grumbling the entire time.
“Back here,” I told her, “away from the demon.”
Myra pressed her hand in the middle of the demon’s back and kicked his legs wide. She went through a one-handed frisk. “Any weapons? Any magic items or substances?” she asked.
“I assure you,” he said, trying to twist around.
“Nope,” Mya said. “Not until I know you don’t have anything up your sleeve. Kneel.”
Every muscle in his body locked on that command.
The air felt charged, electric. Like atoms were banging into each other: collisions, sparks. It felt like he was about to make a very poor choice.
Bathin stomped into the room and made a quick assessment of the tableau. “I’d do what she says, Uncle, if you don’t want to be erased from this existence.”
“There is no need to…” he said, but Myra said a short, sharp, twisted word—magic—and followed it with: “Down.”
The air sparked between them, little fires catching and extinguishing.
He knelt. Slowly due to the handcuffs, but all the way to his knees.
Xtelle made a soft little gasp. I wondered if it was shock or fear. From the corner of my eye, she seemed…fascinated that he had followed the command.
“All right. Good. Just stay there.”
He cleared his throat but said nothing.
Myra took a step back and looked over at me. “You really okay?”
“Yes. He worked a spell.”
“What the—?” Bathin lumbered over to the table, pushing past his mother like she wasn’t even there. For one strange moment, I wondered if she was invisible again.
“It’s so good to see you too, son,” she snipped.
Okay. Not invisible. Just ignored.
“Heartwood, Valkyrie Feather,” Bathin said, somehow knowing what had been there, even though I’d already taken those two valuable items away. “And the tissue? This is… Oh, Amy, you didn’t.”
“Amy?” I asked. “Who’s Amy?”
“He is,” Bathin said. “My uncle. Amy.”
