“Elyse? Are you hurt?” the figure called out. It was Killian, his voice thick with worry. Behind him, endless shadows continued to tear through the street.
Elyse rolled her eyes, the only movement she could manage without inflicting more pain. Of course it was Killian. He’d chased after her like a dog, lost without its owner.
Without waiting for her answer, Killian climbed through the window, ignoring the broken shards lining the sill.
“I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth. Pride was one of the few emotions she felt anymore, and she wouldn’t look weak in front of this fool. Killian dropped to the floor beside her and scanned her for injury. His brows were furrowed so tight, they nearly touched. Elyse wanted to slap the concerned look off his face, but she rolled onto her feet instead.
Killian tried to touch her arm to steady her, but Elyse shook him off. “He’s waiting for you,” Killian said. “He’s standing there, waiting.”
Elyse turned her face to Killian and found his eyes wide, staring at her back—no doubt at the glass protruding from her skin.
“It’s nothing,” she growled. She moved away from him and toward the door, but she had to stifle a groan. It wasn’t nothing. She could feel the blood trickling down her back, even with the shard stifling most of the bleeding. Her magic ebbed within her, like an ember trying and failing to blaze. It dwindled with each drop of blood that spilled from her wound, with each movement that lodged the shard deeper into her back.
“Don’t go out there,” Killian demanded. “He’ll kill you, Elyse. And you have no way to defeat him.”
She reached the door and tried the handle. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. She waved a hand over the mechanism and heard the click before she yanked it open.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she drawled. Then stepped outside, back to the fight.
As Killian had said, Lazarus waited in the middle of the street. He faced her, hands hanging casually by his side, as if he possessed all the patience in the world. Even more ravens carved through the night, soaring into any open door or window they could find. Lazarus’s smile seemed to widen at every new scream that rippled down the block.
Footsteps sounded behind Elyse. She didn’t have to look to know Killian had come up beside her. “You need the Blade of Hanael,” he urged. “Don’t be stupid.”
Elyse leveled him with a stare that would make kings tremble. “Go back to the shop,” she snarled.
Killian shook his head. “Absolutely not.” He flexed his fingers at his side as he bent his knees, his gaze narrowed on Lazarus.
“Then don’t get in my way,” Elyse growled, and she took off.
She cut through the darkness, summoning wind at her back to elongate her stride. Her feet shoved hard against the cobblestone as her hands flung spell after spell at Lazarus—each a death blow. None of them hit, instead dissolving into the night like a fading breeze. Lazarus only smiled at each failure.
Killian matched her stride for stride as he blasted off his own spells. He chose stunning spells, though—the imbecile. He was too afraid of hurting civilians. That fear was his weakness.
But Elyse had no fear. She poured her hatred, even her pride, into every spell and hurled her magic like a tidal wave. Each movement had the muscles in her back screaming as the glass wrenched through her skin. She tried her best to ignore it, but she could feel her magic depleting every second.
Lazarus finally countered, sending a death hex hurtling toward them. Killian erected a shield, covering both him and Elyse. The hex catapulted into the shield and evaporated into nothingness.
Killian dropped the shield before Elyse could scream at him to do so. The hard air had barely disappeared before she blasted off a death hex of her own. Lazarus was faster. He thrust his hands forward and a wall of fire sailed toward them.
Elyse flicked her fingers and levitated into the air, rising above the flames. Killian rolled aside as the fire roared past him. Elyse didn’t wait for him to catch up as she shot one, two, three death hexes at Lazarus.
They were only ten yards apart now. His chin high, he stared down his long nose at her.
“It is not too late.” His voice rolled through the street, sending a shiver through Elyse. It was darkness incarnate. “We could rule this world together.” He waved his hand and appeared right in front of her, his broad chest at eye level.
“I’d rather die,” Elyse snarled. She fired off a hex, but Lazarus laughed and shielded himself.
She attacked over and over, every muscle aching as her magic waned. Killian joined her, firing off his own spells, but it was useless. Lazarus was like a phantom, taunting them as he disappeared and reappeared, their spells never landing. Elyse ground her teeth and tried harder and harder, again and again. She was tired and bleeding and hopelessly outmatched, but she wouldn’t quit. One way or another, it ended tonight.
“Enough!” Lazarus commanded. He waved his hand and sent a ripple of air over the pavement. It knocked Elyse off her feet, her knees and palms stinging on impact. She braced herself on her hands and tried to push herself up, but Lazarus hissed, “Stay down.”
Elyse refused to submit, pushing harder against the pavement, but she couldn’t move. It felt as if a weight had been set on her back. Like her hands were somehow glued in place, her knees stitched into the stones beneath.
“So you can still obey me,” Lazarus taunted.
Elyse lifted her head toward him, sending as much heat into her stare as she could muster. “Fuck you,” she spat as she tried again to wrench her hands free.
Next to her, Killian struggled as well. He was still shirtless, his back drenched in sweat and dirt.
