“A pretty girl, all alone,” the other replied.
“Leave me be,” Ravenna said. She felt as if she were fighting two foes: the men—and herself. The magic licked up her throat, begging for release. She swallowed hard. “Per favore.Let me pass.”
“Such fine manners,” one of them leered. “You’ll raise your skirts for us both without complaint.” He rubbed his crotch while the other drew closer, his eyes full of lust.
Ravenna’s pulse thundered in her ears as she fought to remain calm, but the darkness roared, feeding off her terror, her anger. It was always hungry, always waiting. She lifted the walking stick to the level of her hip. The men chuckled; the noise drowned out her heartbeat.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, her voice edged in rising panic. “Please, don’t make me do this.”
The men guffawed.
One of the men charged, and Ravenna instinctively swung the walking stick. It struck the man’s side and he yowled. The other surged toward her and she swung again, but he was expecting it. He wrenched the stick away from her, threw it over his shoulder. It clattered against the stone.
She held up her hands, backing away from her attacker, the picture of a surrender. Her attacker glanced to his partner and Ravenna swiftly bent at her waist, yanked her dagger out of her too-tight shoe. They both laughed at her, and anger formed a knot at the back of her throat.
Howdarethey—
One of them rushed her, and Ravenna heard her father’s instruction in her mind.Don’t stay still, make it hard for anyone to reach you. She pivoted and swiped the dagger. The tip raked the man’s forearm and he cried out, but the other came from behind, wrapping his arms tight around her.
The dagger clattered to the ground. His harsh breath against her cheek sent a bolt of terror through her.
Ravenna let out a strangled cry. “No, don’t, get away from me!Please!”
The dark magic rose up in volcanic fury. She gritted her teeth, sweat forming along her hairline. Her skin turned feverishly hot. She couldn’t control how much to use. She frantically glanced to theleft, to the right. The streets were empty. She tipped her head back, opened her mouth to scream—
Her attacker slapped his hand across her mouth, hard. Ravenna bucked, but he dug his hand into her middle, kept her squeezed against his side. She bit his bare finger; blood filled her mouth. He pulled his injured hand away.
“Puttana,” he roared in her ear.
Ravenna winced, her mind spinning. The man’s arm tightened, an iron band across her stomach. She pressed her fingers against his weathered skin. His hot breath curled around her face; he stank of beer and rot. The magic blazed a path through her, and it was as if she faced a river of fire barreling toward her. She couldn’t control it anymore; she could only fling herself off the path of destruction.
The magic burned a path through her arms, shot past her fingertips.
Her attacker flinched, howling. The color drained from his face. His eyes widened in terror and his grip on her loosened, slipping from around her. But it was too late.
Much, much too late.
The magic had him, and it would not be denied.
His skin turned ash gray, dry as tinder. The veins crisscrossing his arms darkened. His mouth opened in a silent scream as he began to wither, his features collapsing in on themselves, growing gaunt, skeletal.
Ravenna was in her worst nightmare, a horror that had haunted her for most of her life. And yet there was a part of her that relished the strength her magic gave her. She felt both emotions rioting through her. She was justified. She was damned.
The man writhed on the ground, his body bucking and twisting. His voice was a desperate, hoarse cry that rattled through her. “Stop, stop.Please!”
His plea gutted Ravenna. She wrapped her arms around herself, tears dripping down her cheeks. She fought the magic the best she could, but it burned in anger, ravenous. It clawed its way throughher, relentless, consuming, until the man before her was nothing but a hollow shell. His body crumpled at her feet, lifeless. Empty.
Her breath hitched, her chest tightening with guilt so profound it threatened to suffocate her. The magic purred, slow and heavy, satisfied, like a beast that had been fed.
The second attacker staggered back, his face a mask of horror. “What are you?” he breathed, his voice shaking in fury. He looked at her as if she were a monster. An abomination.
Every awful thing she believed about herself filled her mind. She hadn’t wanted this. She had never wanted to becomethis.But it was a part of her, and if anyone came for her, then she would do whatever it took to protect herself.
His eyes narrowed into a glare of pure hatred. His hand went for the dagger at his waist, and in the moonlight, the blade gleamed as it slashed toward her.
“Aspetta!” she cried, raising her hands to ward him off. “Wait!”
His attack was brutal, unrelenting. His blade flashed again, forcing her to sidestep, her breath catching as the edge grazed her cloak.
