“Stop screaming,” Carla said. “And stop moving.”
The glow leaching from the knife’s hilt intensified, and the song of its snake had my whole body vibrating in tune with it. The scream died on my lips, but not because the knife and its magic had me in its thrall and forced compliance, but because itdidn’t.
I stilled.
Liadon had said I was immune to some godly relics, and it certainly made sense that a weapon that could potentially control the opposition’s main player would be one of them. But it was Beira who’d said the blade’s resonance would allow me—or rather the wind—to find its location when in use.
Maybe, just maybe, I could use that to my advantage.
I called again for the storm, this time reaching for it through the foulness of the blade’s music. Thunder rumbled, closer now, filled with fury and the need to destroy, but whatever magic had leashed my ability to call to the weather and my knives still vibrated through these walls. To use either, I first needed to destroy that magic.
And I had no idea where the spell was anchored.
“From this moment on,” Carla was saying, satisfaction practically oozing from her skin, “you will obey my every order.”
The knife flared, and once again its heat surged through me. Doing nothing, telling me nothing.
“You will report your relic-related movements and discoveries on a daily basis whenever you’re undertaking a hunt. Understood?”
“Yes,” I said, in a monotone voice.
Thunder cracked overhead, a sound that echoed through the stone around us.
Carla glanced up, her concern flicking through the air. “Are you doing that?”
“No,” I responded.
Another deep rumble, and electricity began to build in the crypt, raising the hairs on the back of my neck.Soon, the storm seemed to whisper,soon we will break through.
Soon we will kill her.
But not before she’d fucking talked.
“What is your phone number?” she was saying.
I reeled it off. Again, the sky rumbled its fury, and power surged, striking at the building, sending a shock wave of electricity through its stone. Somewhere in the distance, glass exploded.
Carla looked over her shoulder, then added hastily, “Once you have written your daily report, place it in an envelope addressed to Pam, and then walk it down to Dusty Diamonds and give it to them. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“You will not come after me. You will not attack or follow my men when they release you. You will remember nothing of our meeting or anything that has happened here. Understood?”
Another flat acknowledgement. She hastily pulled the knife free. The wound didn’t heal, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was too busy looking up at the ceiling and the thickening rain of stone dust. She shoved the knife away and gave me a smile that sent chills down my spine.
“I have a final gift for you, dear Bethany, before you utterly forget this event.”
She stepped back, and a weird shimmer rolled over her body, concealing it from sight. When it retreated a few seconds later,I was looking at myself. Fury swept me, a fury so deep that something inside cracked. Outside, thunder rumbled, a long roll that promised revenge. Promised death.
She glanced up again, then returned her gaze to mine. “Sgott will feel the sweet enticement of the blade?—”
I screamed and lunged for her; I didn’t get close enough to do her any harm thanks to the men still gripping me, but her face nevertheless paled. Whatever she’d seen in my expression had scared the hell out of her.
And rightly so. She was a dead woman walking.
“Enjoy the memories you have of Sgott,” she snapped, “because all he will see is you stabbing him, you betraying him. And he will ostracize you, never talking or seeing you again. And if you try to make it otherwise, I will destroy him.”
With that hanging in the air, she turned and hurriedly left.
