In their place stood Everett, black fighting leathers coated in blood and dirt. I wasn’t sure if this was real until I saw what he was holding.
With one hand, he gripped none other than Malek Mortep by the throat.
“He’s an Alchemist,” Everett said, slowly turning to me. “Andan Illusionist.”
Clarity struck me. The answer was so simple.
Mortep hadtwomagic types.Hecreated the illusion of Vera in the forge. Scarven was using him to mess with us tonight.
“You know the key to stopping an Illusionist?” Everett said, glaring back at Mortep. The scar across Everett’s gray eye stood out brighter in his fury. “You go for the eyes.”
With two strikes from his dagger, he tore out Mortep’s eyes.
72
Nox
Mortep’s wail ripped through the night. I froze as Everett dropped him, then threw his own eyes back at him. Mortep shielded his face with his hands, blood seeping through the cracks of his fingers.
A dagger appeared in Everett’s hand. “This is for me,” he seethed, “andfor her.” He raised the blade to Mortep’s chest.
A mass of fur, hard muscles, and sharp claws burst from the side. A great lion rammed into Everett, and he sailed through the air. The lion roared and shook his wild mane, spit flying from his maw.
He wasenormous. Easily twice the size of any normal lion, with bronze fur that rippled in the wind and dark eyes that burned with both cunning and rage. Muscles coiled beneath its hide with every step as it stalked toward me.
Scarven.
At the sound of Mortep’s loud groan, I took my eyes off Scarven to catch the half Alchemist, half Illusionist groping aimlessly at his chest until he pulled out a small silver box.
I realized too late what he was doing.
With trembling fingers, Mortep placed something on his tongue and muttered a string of words. There was a flash of smoke,a tightening sensation stretching in the air, and then—he was gone.
“No!” Everett shouted, struggling to rise as he stared at the spot Mortep had disappeared from.
I didn’t care about the Alchemist. When the lion lunged for me, there was only one thing going through my head.
Devora.
I couldn’t hurt him. Anything that happened to him, happened to her.
Once again, my hands were tied behind my back. He was untouchable.
He soared through the air and slammed his paws into my chest, and we went crashing to the ground, a tangle of claws and fur. I shifted my wings and slammed the wingtips into the ground to stop our momentum, spraying dirt around our bodies as I caged him beneath me.
He struck first. He swung his paw at my face, but I blocked with my shifted hand, careful not to strike him. Sparks flew when his claw hit my steel talons.
Scarven snarled. Rearing his hind legs up, he shoved at my chest and threw me off him. The force made me yank my wings from the ground to steady myself.
Back on all fours, Scarven shook his mane again. This time when he charged me, his body shifted midair, bronze fur morphing into a trim black suit, dark hair with that streak of gray, and gleaming eyes that held my gaze.
“Something wrong, brother?” He sauntered forward, casually buttoning the cuff of his sleeve as if there wasn’t a battle raging around us.
“You’re a coward,” I spat. He was powerful, sure, but he’d never been a match for me. Heknewit. It was why he hid behind others. First me, then Vera, now Devora.
He shrugged. “You call it cowardice; I call it practical. I haven’t made it this far bypicking fights I couldn’t win.”
“Break the bond,” I demanded. “Whatever you did to Devora, break it and face me like a man.”
