Wicked Deeds on a Winter's Night (Immortals After Dark #4)(7)

“Do you really think you can defeat me?” he demanded. “And if no’ me, then the Valkyrie or the vampire?”

“A seer predicted Kaderin will lose the Hie for once. This is anyone’s game.”

He eyed her. “You know why I will win. What do you seek?”

To show everyone! “It’s personal,” she said instead. “Look, we could team up. The key works twice.”

“Team with you? What could you possibly offer me?” The expression he gave her said he was amused by her statement. Her eyes narrowed. He shouldn’t be amused.

“I’m not without skills, MacRieve. I won the first two tasks I undertook.” Mari could be surprisingly effective for someone who rarely put herself in challenging situations. When she did decide to work for something, she worked hard. In the Hie, she had to work harder merely because she was a mortal. “And I do believe I beat you here.”

“Do you have any idea how much I despise witches?”

Many Lorekind did. Witches were feared and mistrusted, used only for their purchased spells. And that disdain had never bothered her so much as it did now. “No, that fact escaped me when you were sticking your tongue in my mouth.”

The reminder seemed to enrage him. “You will no’ take yourself from the hunt? Then I’ll take the hunt from you.” He twisted away from her, then charged for the tunnel.

Suspecting what he planned to do, she felt panic—and magick—rising up within her. After a sharp shake of her head, she hurried after him. “Wait, MacRieve!” When she got to the tunnel, he was already climbing out the other end. A concentration of magick built in her palm, and she threw a beam of it at him. Didn’t know what she expected...

Though it shot straight as a laser, it just missed him. Once the tunnel was cleared of everything but aftersparks and residual power flares, he leaned down to give her a black look, then disappeared.

Snatching up her lantern, she crawled through that awful space, breaths panicked and sharp, magick cloying about her. Once freed of the tunnel, she dashed down corridors, finally reaching the first anteroom.

The tomb’s entryway was at least twelve feet above this chamber’s floor. She arrived in time to see him leap the distance, easily clearing it.

As he gazed down at her from the opening, his eyes looked crazed, and she saw he was turning more fully. An image of a furious beast flickered over him. He ducked down, positioning himself under the portcullis. When he raised his hands above him to grip it, she said, “Don’t do this, MacRieve.”

He hefted the weight—with difficulty, but by himself. Two demons had labored with that feat. And the colossal stone that the three archers had struggled to shove under it? MacRieve simply kicked it away, toppling it from the ledge into the space near Mari.

As if her thoughts of them brought the other competitors, the archers entered the outer chamber, their easy smiles lit in the glow of their lanterns. When the three saw her, they appeared shocked that she wasn’t in her cloak. Each gaze locked on her pointed ears. “Mariketa, you’re fey, like us?” Tera, the female asked. “It was rumored at the assembly... ”

Tera trailed off when Mari nervously jerked her chin in MacRieve’s direction. The archers eased farther inside. In a heartbeat, they’d swung three nocked bows up at him, yet they knew if they shot, he’d drop his burden, sealing them in.

But he’s going to do it anyway .

The demons arrived then, quickly comprehending the situation. Their fangs lengthened as they began to turn into their own enraged demon shape.

Their eyes grew black as their skin darkened into a deep red. Their elegantly turned horns, which usually curved out from just past their temples to run along the sides of their heads, now straightened and sharpened into deadly points, the normally shell-like color blackening.

Rydstrom, the older demon grated, “Bowen, think on what you plan.” The two obviously knew each other.

Tera murmured to Mari, “Can you get a call out, Mariketa?”

Mari raised her right palm, intending to send a psychic message to her coven. Nothing came. She shoved her palm out again.

When she failed once more, MacRieve laughed at her. His voice sounding like a beast’s, he grated, “No’ quite so powerful, witch.”

Enough. Fury churned in her like she’d rarely known before. She wanted to hurt him, needed to, and suddenly a rare focus came to her wrath, control to her power.

She put her left hand behind her back, and a spine of red light rose up from her palm, taking shape like a dagger. Tera must have seen what she was doing because she sidled up to her and raised her lantern to camouflage the magick’s glow.

Building... building...

In a flash, Mari threw the dagger of light overhand. MacRieve appeared shocked at the speed and twisted to dodge it, but it exploded into painless fragments over his heart.

Bull’s-eye. Subtle-like.

With a glance down, he smirked, thinking himself safe. “Keep your daggers to yourself, witchling, till they get some bite.”

He calmly took one step back... then dropped the stone. As it slammed shut with a deafening boom, a volley of arrows sank into it, too late. Air, rock, and sand rushed over Mari’s face, gritting into her eyes. She heard the elven males yelling with rage as they rushed forward and banged on the wall.

When Mari wiped the sand from her eyes, she blinked, disbelieving what she saw. The elves backed away in silence. Once, long ago, something had leapt up, desperately seeking release from this place.