Fearson hissed at Twist, motioning toward her and then turning slightly to speak to his people. “Burn that abomination first.”
His minions, who were just regaining their feet, turned to look at Twist. Some of them blanched at the sight of a giant fucking man-eating cat, but one of the assholes with a flamethrower stepped forward, aiming at Twist.
That was when I felt the bizarre flooding sensation of magic attempting to invade my mind again, and I couldn’t jump in to help my kitten. This time, though, the magic was obvious, like having a bucket of water dumped on my head or a hose aimed at me. Not a quiet, insidious thing that seemed to be coming from inside me.
When I turned to face him once more, it was easy to see the magic like a band that stretched between the two of us. I clenched my hand, and I could feel the spear—the blade of it under my control, so I slashed from one side to the other, severing the magic, making both ends flutter wildly as they retracted into us. As I marched forward, Twist at my side, Fearson’s men—including the guy with the flame thrower—fell back.
Fearson wasn’t giving up, though. He pushed at me, and I could see the fluttering end of his magic reach for me again, feel the pressure of it, but this time, knowing it was there, feeling it,seeingit? I could handle it.
It wasn’t nothing, wasn’t easy, but it was a hurdle to jump, rather than something I couldn’t fight at all.
Especially when Twist leapt at him, bowling him onto his back and making him shriek like a terrified child.
That was when the vampires finally jumped into action.
Yes, fire was scary and Fearson making me crumple like a ragdoll had made them pause, but even against humans with flame throwers, they were fucking vampires. They were faster than any human could ever hope to be. A few of them got scorched in taking the minions down, but it had been Fearson causing the real hesitation.
The fear.
Fearson plucking at all our minds at once with his artifact, even if he could only steal one person’s energy at a time.
I marched right up to where he lay in the grass, reached under Twist’s enormous paw, and stuffed my hand into his front pocket to retrieve the object. Surely he couldn’t use it anymore if he didn’t have access to it.
It was a huge, heavy gold ring with the inset figure of a leaping bull, complete with hooves and a freaking penis sticking out. It had the tiny remnants of wax embedded in the edges, as though it had been used to make wax seals, but that was...a waste of a priceless object.
A horrible, monstrous, priceless object.
Even in the moment, I could feel the power of it, so it wasn’t one of those normal artifacts—the kind that required the user to have magic of their own to use it. I turned to look for my mother, but it was Davin who was right at my side.
Of course he was.
He even looked concerned, which...well, that was understandable. I’d almost lost the damn fight before it had started.
I held up the ring. “Can magical artifacts be destroyed?”
He looked at it, frowning and leaning away, like it might bite him.
Again, understandable.
“I think you need an arcane mage to destroy an artifact,” Blair said, approaching from the opposite side, her arm linked with my mother’s, both of them dirt streaked and looking incredibly self-satisfied. “Or maybe a death mage?”
Since I knew one of each in the Agincourt twins, I nodded and slid the disgusting thing into my pocket. I’d have to get that taken care of sooner rather than later, but I didn’t have to hand it off to anyone I didn’t know to have it done.
Not that I didn’t trust my mother’s vampire allies, but I trusted my friends way more.
“Destroy it?” Fearson demanded, laughing incredulously. “Destroy? Are you a complete fool? Do you have any idea what kind of power is in that thing?”
I looked down at him and lifted a brow. “Does it have anything to do with why you’ve prematurely aged so badly? Using magic that isn’t your own to control people’s brains is unhealthy, maybe?” There was that arrogant sneer, back on his face, and I was sure my guess was right. “Had to settle for outside power because you’re the world’s weakest dragon, is it? How embarrassing.”
“I’m the favored son of Tadhg!” he near-roared, and the whole clearing went silent.
Near-roared, because he was a pitiful excuse for a dragon who couldn’t actually roar. Because no one loved him, “favored son” or not, and he didn’t love anyone in return.
My mother’s voice was deadly, though, as she glared down at him with ice in her gaze. “What did you just call yourself?”
His anger turned in an instant, smug and superior, like he had something to hold over her.
Before he could say a word, though, I interrupted. “You didn’t hear my friend? She called him Uncle Albert. He’s a son of Tadhg. Which makes him my father’s brother.” And then it was my turn to give him a disgusted look. “Imagine holding your own brothers prisoner. Draining their energy like some kind of wannabe vampire.” I gave him an over-the-top look of sympathy. “I’m sorry, did you just want to be powerful that badly? Emulating vampires because you couldn’t be one?”
