Keep your shield intact.She would not die today. Not here. Not by the man who had given her such powers. Powers she would use to end him.
Elyse’s strength returned slowly, but not fully. Though her knees quaked, she pulled herself to her feet. When she met Lazarus’s cold, mismatched eyes, she summoned all of her hate into her gaze.
“Feeling under the weather?” he taunted. There was triumph in his voice. He had already decided that he had won, and now he was toying with her.
Elyse rolled her head from one shoulder to the other, stretching her neck. “Never felt better,” she said as she raised her hands to fight.
When she’d pushed Killian out of the circle, she’d sent the Blade of Hanael with him. Her best bet was to stun Lazarus—and keep him stunned—until she could find a way through the flames. She exhaled and prepared for a fight.
Elyse attacked first. Lazarus retaliated quickly. They traded spells back and forth—Lazraus sending death hexes while Elyse spouted off stunning spells. Neither of them could find purchase, their shields flicking into place in time to block every assault.
Elyse tried her best to keep up, but Lazarus wasso damned fast.She was lucky to eke out a single spell among the barrage of hexes Lazarus threw at her. And each spell hit so hard, she thought her shoulder would dislocate as she kept her shield intact.
“Is that the best you can manage?” Lazarus called over the roaring of the flames. Dirt covered his clothes, and his hair was adripping mess, but he grinned from ear to ear. “What a shame,” he drawled.
“Funny,” Elyse spat. “I was thinking the same about you.”
Lazarus glowered at that.
Elyse lowered her shield and shot off another stunning spell. This time, Lazarus did not raise his shield. Instead, he transported himself away from her aim. He reappeared a second later off to the side of the circle, and clenched his outstretched hand into a fist.
Whatever magic it was, it hit Elyse like a stampede. She dropped to her knees, the crash ricocheting through her bones. It felt like an axe had cleaved her skull in two. Her blood seemed to burn with acid.
Somewhere, among the flames and chaos, Lazarus laughed.
Elyse couldn’t hear it though. All she could hear was screaming—her own, Killian’s, Sera’s, her mother’s. Anyone she had ever loved.
Her limbs spasmed as she doubled over, her chest pressing against her thighs. A violent sob tore through her, and she cried out at the wave of pain that it brought.
“Look at me.” Lazarus’s voice was a growl, low and ragged, edged with something unholy. His hands were suddenly on her chin, jerking her face up toward his.
Tears seared her vision. Lazarus was so close, his face mere inches from hers. His eyes shimmered with orange light, reflecting the fire that still surrounded them.
“This used to be fun—used to be a game,” he snarled in that sickening voice. “But I’ve grown tired of your persistence. It will be a pleasure to watch you die, daughter.”
Elyse spat in his face. It was worth it, even for the torment that it caused her, if only to see his grimace.
“Enough!” The single word shook Elyse, as if Lazarus had spoken it into her soul. She convulsed as Lazarus clenched his fist again, and a current of agony pulsed through her.
Lazarus rose slowly to his feet. He kicked Elyse—twice. Once in the face, then in the ribs. Each blow seemed to multiply the pain throughout her body.
She wanted to cry out, “Do it already!” The anguish that seared through her was too much. Death would be a mercy.
But she could do nothing. She couldn’t think of any way out, let alone spew hatred at Lazarus. She tried to summon a shield, but her magic was too disoriented to obey.
“Mercy?” Lazarus called. Had she spoken aloud? “When have I ever been merciful? No, yours will be a painful death. A warning to those who would try to stop me again.”
He took several steps away from Elyse. Her heart, already ramming against her broken ribs, ratcheted up its speed as dark silhouettes appeared beyond the flames.
“My beasts are hungry,” Lazarus taunted. “It is so rare that they can enjoy human flesh. But today, they feast.”
The silhouettes moved, and two Hellhounds came prowling through the flames. Twin hounds stood before her, red eyes burning with hunger and bloody drool spilling from their maws.
“Hellfire does not stop them,” Lazarus explained. “They are forged from it. They are death, and they are pain.” His words sounded like a promise.
The two beasts stalked closer, their sharp teeth bared. A third hound entered behind Lazarus. It was smaller than the others,but its snarl was more ferocious. It had gray eyes—eyes that latched onto Elyse with a foreboding intensity. She choked out a sob.
“Ah, that’s the look!” Lazarus sang, pointing to Elyse’s face. “The precise moment when you accept your doom. Beautiful, truly.”
