Amy’s eyes shot over to me, then past me as if he could still see the magic items, as if they were not locked away in my gun safe.
“It’s something I modified,” he said. “You are the sister who guards Ordinary’s library, are you not?”
“It’s impossible to know,” Xtelle mumbled. “They all look the same.”
“Why does it matter?” Myra asked.
“If you are the sister who guards the library, I can assume you are versed in spellwork. Some demonology?”
“Spit it out, Amy,” Bathin said. “The Reeds aren’t basic.”
He gave Bathin a curt nod. Like a captain used to taking orders from his general.
“The original spell is a nasty piece of work built to latch and kill. It’s a parasite spell, where the host slowly loses control to the attacker and eventually is a zombie, fully controlled by the attacker. Then, of course, the host is ultimately devoured.”
“Of course,” Bathin went on like this was a discussion so pedestrian, he was waiting for the conversation to actually begin.
My stomach twisted. Was that what had been happening to me? Was Amy a parasite attached to my subconscious?
“But you modified it,” Myra said. “Tell us how. What does it do now?”
He shrugged. “It binds me to Delaney.”
“No,” Bathin said. “There’s more. It’s not just a binding. I can smell it. Too heavy. Too…death. You used some kind of death, didn’t you?”
“Very well done, my Prince.”
“Stow the compliments, Uncle. Out with the facts.”
“The sweat of Death’s brow,” he said with barely contained smugness.
Xtelle gasped again. She muttered a fluttery little “Oh, my” which Amy did not miss. He slid a look her way. This time his smile was wicked, dangerous, calculating, inviting her in on the fun. And yes, it was hot.
What was it with demons?
“Obtained non-violently,” he added, like that had been the easiest thing to pull off in the world.
“Oh. Oh, my. How veryrestrainedof you, Avnas,” Xtelle cooed, making the “restrained” sound like a dirty compliment. “How verysoftandthoughtful.”
From the way he was looking at her, from the way she was fluttering those ridiculously long unicorn eyelashes, this nice talk was more like dirty talk.
“Gross,” Bathin said. “I shouldn’t have to listen to my mother sweet-talk my uncle.”
“Then you should leave.” Xtelle had turned just a bit and was prancing sideways across the room toward Amy, her tail swishing.
“Stop,” I ordered. “Stay away from him, Xtelle.”
Myra moved in, the stubby red beet in her hand pointed straight at the side of Xtelle’s head.
“That’s a beet, not a gun. You do know it won’t actually fire bullets,” Xtelle said.
“I know you keep telling me that. Back up.” She gestured with the beet, and Xtelle lifted her lip away from her teeth.
“Stomp you,” she hissed.
Myra waved the beet again, and Xtelle grudgingly moved back my way.
“So you changed the ingredients,” Myra said to Amy, “or added to them?”
