Rachel Aaron - The Spirit Rebellion - The Legend of Eli Monpress - Book 2

“The Heart wouldn’t have anything to do with you,” Josef growled, spitting the words.

Sted dropped him back onto the floor. “How would you know?” he said, turning Josef over with his foot so that he was lying on his back. “You aren’t even strong enough to protect a little girl.”

And with that, he brought his jagged sword down on Josef’s stomach. Josef cried out in pain, a hitching, sobbing sound. Sted just held him down with his boot, pushing the sword in deeper. When Josef stopped struggling, Sted pulled his blade out and slung it in an arc, flinging Josef’s blood across the room.

He picked up his cast-off coat and wiped his blade clean. Then he turned and started toward Nico, the clomp of his boots the only noise in the warehouse. He walked with his sword out, the curved blade awake and glowing hungry red. Yet, for all that he was her death walking to meet her, the girl wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were focused on the swordsman’s body.

Subtly, almost imperceptibly, her hand twitched. Her head moved very slightly off the ground before being slammed down again. Her leg kicked a fraction, like a child’s in the womb. Sted saw this, and walked a little faster.

“I’m impressed you can move under the weight of the command,” he said. “I’m told that takes a tremendous amount of will. You must have been a very strong wizard before the demon took you.”

Nico didn’t even look at him as he spoke, but her hand edged forward, her short nails digging into the wooden floor.

“You’ll only hurt yourself if you keep trying,” Sted warned. He was a dozen feet from her now. “I’m no wizard, but the order you’re under has nothing to do with spirit talking. It’s a tool given to League members by the Lord of Storms himself, a sharing of his gift from the Shepherdess, or some such. I’m told it commands the spirit world’s inborn hatred of demons to create a crushing weight. Supposedly, with practice, a skilled League member can control its strength, make it less painful on the victim.” He stopped just short of her outstretched hand, grinning wide. “I never saw much point in that.”

He nudged her with his boot, turning her over, and held his sword above her exposed throat, just above her silver collar, which, for once, lay perfectly still against her skin. “Time to go to work,” he said, sighing. “May whatever is left of your human soul find peace with your precious swordsman in the next life.”

He swung his sword up in a whistling arc, and then brought it down. A great cloud of dust and debris went up as the jagged blade crashed through the girl and into the floor, obliterating everything. The deed done, Sted straightened up, swinging his sword back to inspect the damage. But as the dust began to clear, his confident smile faded. He could see the black outline of the girl’s body, clearly crushed by his sword, and yet there was no smell of fresh blood. He waved his arms frantically to clear the last of the dust, and his teeth clenched in a snarl. There, in the crater his sword had made, flat and empty as a shed skin, was the girl’s coat.

He whirled around just in time to see the girl, surprisingly thin and bony in her torn shirt and threadbare trousers, clutch the swordman’s body before vanishing again into the shadows.

Sted snatched the shed coat with the point of his sword and tossed it away. “What are you?” he bellowed. “A damned cicada? Come out and fight!”

Silence was his answer.

On the other side of the warehouse, behind a stack of crates she’d scouted out yesterday as a potentially useful hiding place, Nico gently set Josef’s body on the floor. At some point after Sted’s final blow, his hands had managed to grip the Heart, which was the only way she’d been able to move it. The black sword followed no hand but Josef’s.

Quiet as a shadow, Nico pulled a length of dyed silk out of the crate beside her and wrapped Josef’s wounds as best she could. She worked quickly, tugging the bandage with shaking hands. Even though he was spirit deaf, Sted was a League hunter. Without her coat, it was only a matter of minutes before he found her.

She looped the crooked bandage over Josef’s chest one last time and tied it tight. The blood was already seeping through, but it would have to do. She was out of time.

Nico ran her hand over Josef’s face, feeling his dim, ragged breath on her fingers. “Keep breathing,” she whispered. “This time, I’ll save you.”

With that, she vanished, skipping through the shadows to the far end of the warehouse. She reappeared behind the pile of splintered wood Josef had crashed into earlier. Sted’s back was to her. He was standing near where she’d hidden Josef, studying the crates. Soundlessly, Nico reached up to the line of dusty tools hanging from the rack above her and took down a heavy iron hammer. It woke instantly at her touch, and she could feel it getting ready to scream.

“Don’t.” The command was a whisper, but it was more than enough. The hammer froze in place, terrified, and Nico lifted it to her mouth, her lips moving against the cold, trembling metal. “Strike him quietly and true,” she whispered, “or I’ll eat you whole.”

She felt guilty as she spoke, and the image of Eli’s serious face as he held her sleeve flashed through her mind. Nico crushed the feeling. The thief had had it easy. He didn’t understand that survival meant doing what had to be done. Anyway, beating Sted and saving Josef meant far more to her than a stupid hammer. Decision made, she drew back her arm and, taking careful aim, threw the hammer as hard as she could. It flew unnaturally straight, balancing itself as it spun, and landed right at the base of Sted’s skull.

The swordsman stumbled and roared, whirling around to face his attacker. This time, Nico didn’t blink away. She stood her ground, staring Sted straight in the face as he raised his arm to throw the immobilization on her again.

“You said you wanted a fight,” she growled, dropping into a crouch.

Sted’s arm fell. “I don’t like to fight girls,” he said with a sneer. “But for that”-he kicked the fallen hammer-“I’ll make an exception. I only hope you’re more of a challenge than your guard, demon.”

Nico’s answer was to flit behind him and slam her fist into his back, right below his liver. Josef had already learned Sted was uncuttable, but every human had the same organs. Still, punching Sted was like punching a rock, and about as effective. The League man didn’t even grunt. Instead, he spun with his blade, forcing Nico to skip away through the shadows or get sliced in half. She emerged panting on the other side of the room, shaking her hand to get the feeling back. Sted turned slowly to face her, looking cockier than ever.

Nico clenched her fists, pressing her buzzing manacles against her skin. Without her coat she could feel the spirits all around her, easy prey, easy power. She could feel the demon inside her waking, scenting food. The spirits were beginning to wake as well, to notice what she was, and she could feel the panic growing. She couldn’t fight like this much longer, and from the look on his face, Sted knew it.

“Jump while you can,” he said, walking toward her with terrible, slow steps. “Every power you use gives me more allies. Soon, you won’t even have a place to stand.”

As if to prove him right, the boards beneath her feet began to groan, working up the courage to snap and trap her. Nico leaped before they got the chance, blinking through the dark to the air above Sted’s head. Sted just laughed and raised his sword to block.

At that moment, deep inside Nico, in the places she never went, something woke, and the wailing demon panic exploded all around her.