Neon Blue E Frost (speld decodable readers .TXT) 📖

Denys shudders as the blast hits him, and a glamor shreds away from him in a dark mist. He turns his head as the wind subsides. Dark hair, dark eyes, long horsey face, heavy double-chin pinched by his buttoned-up coat. The man from the Museum, the demon-expert, Mr. Leroy. But Timmi and Cowled Man have been calling him by his real name tonight, and I place him, Denys LeConie, Justinian Fryer’s former partner and torturer of demons.

And knife-wielding asshole, I’m reminded, as he yanks on my bathrobe and presses the knife into my throat again. “Kneel, demon, or your whore dies.”

He did not just call me that.

I gather power, summon Air into my hands, and punch him in the chest.

It’s not a good punch. I can’t swing. Not with him holding me like this. But Air makes up for my lack of momentum. Denys staggers back and finally, finally, the knife falls away from my neck.

But he doesn’t let go of my bathrobe. The terrycloth tears and gapes open across my bare chest, but holds across my back and drags me down with him. We both end up on the floor, with me on top of him. I try to scramble back, but between the robe and moose-slippers – which I’m never wearing again – I’m hopelessly tangled, and after a moment’s tussle, Denys rolls on top of me and pins me down with that damn knife again.

“Get off me!” I shout in frustration.

“Denys, for the love of the Lady, let Tsara go. You’re hurting her,” Timmi appeals from where she’s crouched on the far side of the couch.

“Shut up and control the creature, woman!”

Timmi shakes her head, but stands, and faces Jou. She holds out a little golden globe in her hand, and for all my fury at what she and her cabal are doing, I feel a second’s sympathy when I see her hand shaking. She told me she wasn’t a practitioner. She doesn’t have any magic to wield, just the power of whatever objects she’s brought with her. She must be so scared.

Jou turns his head, heavy as his massive horns manifest, and looks at her. His eyes fill the darkened room with hard blue light. “Oh, look,” he sneers. “The holy hand grenade of Antioch.”

“I command thee, demon—”

“Thee? You really think throwin’ around some thee’s and thou’s and your fuckin’ bauble there are gonna keep me from ripping your soul out and feeding it to my hound?”

Damn, he sounds really pissed off.

“Timmi, please, please, stop,” I whimper. “Making him angry is such a bad idea—”

“Shut your mouth!” Denys pulls the knife away from my throat, balls the hilt in his hand and back-hands me across the face. White-hot pain shoots up across my cheek. Stabs through my right eye. All I see for a moment is blackness. Hot copper floods my mouth, followed by a cold metallic taste. I swear, if I’ve broken another tooth, I will kill all of them.

I should be scared. I should be blinded and deafened by fear of this man and betrayal by a woman I thought was my friend. Instead, I’m angry. Coldly angry.

“Get off me before I fry your ass,” I spit, spattering Denys’ face with blood.

He sticks the point of the knife under my chin. I stop talking, to avoid impaling myself. He’s not listening to me anyway. I reach and start calling power.

Timmi’s voice cuts over the low buzz of magic in my ears. “I command thee, demon. I command thee, kneel!”

Jou crosses his arms over his chest. Doesn’t kneel. Whatever relic Timmi’s holding seems to be keeping him at bay, but it’s not compelling him to do anything.

Denys rears back, still holding the point of his knife under my chin, and pulls open the torn flap of my robe, baring my chest. Asshole. I glare at him.

He looks down at me. Not a flicker at seeing my breasts exposed. There are red points in the blackness of his eyes, but it’s not lust. It’s greed, and hatred. He wants Jou’s power, and he doesn’t care who he hurts to get it. In that moment, I realize we’re all expendable to him: humans and demon alike.

He leans over me, pinning my shoulder to the floor with one heavy hand, and pulls the knife away from my chin to draw a line of fire across the tops of my breasts.

I scream.

“Denys!” Timmi yells.

“Shut up, old woman.” Denys leans further down, his face inches from mine, blowing his sour breath right into my nose, and cuts me again. I howl into his face.

“Call your lord and master, whore. Call him by his true-name and beg him to save you,” the Cowled Man crawls over to crouch next to Denys.

I glance frantically at Jou. My chest is burning, my throat is burning, and power is trembling, pushing, heaving inside me. I need to do something with it before I explode.

Jou meets my gaze; that hard neon light seers my eyes. There’s nothing there. Nothing in his eyes. Nothing in my mind. A few hours ago, in this very room, he told me he’d never let anyone hurt me. Now he’s letting this asshole cut open my damn chest. He’s abandoned me, thrown me to these wolves, and I don’t know why. I only know that he’s not going to save me. I’m expendable. He only wants my soul and it doesn’t matter if I’m alive or dead. He’s already bound me.

Denys cuts me again, maybe an inch above my nipples, deep into the soft tissue of my breasts. I buck under him and Cowled Man grabs my other arm to hold me down.

But I don’t need my arms free. Just my hands. I flatten my palms against the hardwood under me, and reach.

I sink into the Earth. There’s a moment of weightlessness, and then I’m enfolded, enveloped, in the warmest, most welcoming blanket. It holds me close, closer than Jou’s ever held me. There’s a soft thump in my ears: