Ilona Andrews - Magic Bleeds

We rose at the same time, swords in hand. Grendel rammed the bathroom door, barking in a hysterical frenzy.

Power swirled around Erra, like a cloak of magic. “Alright. Let’s see what you have.”

I pointed to the door. “Age before beauty.”

“Pearls before swine.” She strode out and I followed her. Pearls before swine. Blah-blah-blah.

We headed out of the apartment and down the stairs. My side hurt like hell.

We strode out into the snow-strewn parking lot. I swung my sword, warming up.

“How’s your wound?” she asked. “Does it hurt?”

I stretched my neck left, then right, popping it. “Every time I cut Solomon, he grunted in your voice like a stuck pig. It hurts you when the seven are wounded, doesn’t it? Oh, yes, I do apologize. Not seven. Five.”

“Make your peace.” She waved me on.

“Are we going to do this, or will you keep talking?”

My aunt came across the snow, sword raised. Fast. Too fast. A woman that large should’ve been slower.

Her blade thrust. Quick. I dodged and struck at her side. She parried. Our swords connected. Shock punched my arm. And strong like a bull.

Erra sliced at my shoulder, I blocked, letting her blade slide off my saber, spun, and kicked at her. She leaped back. We broke apart.

My aunt tossed her leather jacket into the snow and motioned to me with her fingers.

“I’m sorry, am I supposed to bring it?”

“What?”

I charged and thrust. She parried, twisting. I hooked her leg with mine and sank the knuckles of my left hand into her ribs. Bone crunched. She rammed her elbow, aiming for my ribs. I turned with the blow and the jab barely grazed me. Pain ripped through my insides. We broke off again.

Liquid heat drenched my side. She tore the wound open. Great.

I saw the muscles on her legs tense and met her halfway. We clashed. Strike, strike, parry, strike, left, right, left, up. I danced across the snow, matching my movements to her rhythm and going faster, forcing her to follow mine. My side burned. Every small movement stabbed a white-hot needle into my liver. I clenched my teeth and fought through it. She was strong and inhumanly fast, but I was a hair faster.

We dashed back and forth. She struck again and again. I dodged what I could and parried the rest. Blocking her was like trying to hold back a bear. She nicked my shoulder. I ducked under her reach, slashed her thigh, and withdrew.

Erra raised her blade straight up. A drop of red slid down the blade. She touched it. “You know a lot of tricks.”

“You don’t.” She was skilled, but all her attacks were straightforward. Then again, she didn’t have to rely on tricks. Not when she hit like a sledgehammer. “You learned to fight when magic was a certainty, so you rely on it to help you in a fight. I learned to fight when technology still had the upper hand and I rely on speed and technique. Without your spells and magic, you can’t beat me.”

You aren’t better than me, nyah-nyah-nyah. Take the bait, Erra. Take the bait.

“Clever, clever little squirrel. Fine. I’ll cut you to pieces by hand, without using my power. After all, you are family and one must make allowances for blood relatives.”

We clashed again. Snow flew, steel flashed. I cut and diced, putting everything I had into my speed. She defended too well for a good body wound, so I went for her arms. If she couldn’t hold a sword, she couldn’t fight.

Her knee caught me. The blow knocked me back. Pretty stars blocked my vision. I flew and hit the snow. Get up, get up, get up. I clawed on to consciousness and rolled to my feet, just in time to block her blade.

Erra bled from a half-dozen cuts. Her sleeve dripped red into the snow. She pushed me back, grinding her blade against Slayer. My feet slid.

“Where is your blood armor, little mongrel child? Where is your blood sword? I keep waiting for your power to show up, but it never does.”

“I don’t need my blood to kill you.”

“You’re bleeding.” She nodded at my side. My shirt stuck to my body, soaked with quickly cooling heat. I’d left a trail of red across the snow. “We both know how this will end. You’re better skilled, but you’re wounded. I’ll beat on you until the bleeding slows you down and then kill you.”

Good plan. Right now it seemed very plausible.

Erra nodded at the blood trail. “Use your blood while you still can so at least I’ll know you were worth something.”

“I don’t need it.”

“You can’t do it, can you? You don’t know how to work the blood. You foolish, foolish child. And you think you can beat me?”

I dropped my guard and twisted to the side. She took a tiny step forward, off balance, and I knocked her left arm up and thrust. Erra jerked back. Slayer slid into her left armpit, quick as the kiss of a snake, and withdrew. She screamed. Blood streamed, but not fast. Not deep enough. Damn. I backed away.

She laughed, baring her teeth, her hair falling about her face. Her lips moved, whispering. A healing chant. Fine, two could play that game. I murmured the incantation under my breath, chanting my side into regeneration.

“I like you. You’re dumb but brave. If you run now, I’ll give you a head start,” she said. “Two days. Maybe three.”

“You’d use the time to murder everyone I ever knew and then rub it in my face.”

“Ha! You must be my child.”

I bared my teeth. “If I was your child, I would’ve strangled myself in the womb with the cord.”

She laughed. “I’ll kill your pretty lion and wear his skull as a hat when I return to your father.”

“Don’t bring the lion into this. It’s about you and me.”

She attacked. I parried, and she drove me back across the snow.

Hit.

Hit.

Hit.

My arm was going numb.

She backhanded me. The apartment building jerked, dancing around me. The force of the blow spun me about. I staggered back, tasting blood in my mouth, and spat red into the snow.

Erra growled. Her left arm hung limp. Finally bled out enough to cause some damage.

“Pain is a bitch, huh?” I laughed. “That’s the trouble with being on top too long—you lose your tolerance.” The world teetered around me. My head rang. I couldn’t take much more. She was wearing me down and I bled like there was no tomorrow.

Might as well use it. I swayed and let Slayer slip a bit in my fingers. Given that a pint of my blood decorated the snow in a pretty red pattern, swaying didn’t prove hard.

Erra raised her sword. “Shake it off and take your last look around.”

Anyone can kill anyone, as long as you don’t care if you live or die. Erra cared very much if she lived. I did, too, but pain didn’t scare me the way it scared her. I was better. If I timed it right, I might even live through it. I just needed to get a good strike and conserve my strength enough to deliver it. Let her do most of the work.

“Talk, talk, talk. You prattle on and on, like a senile old woman. Are you slipping into your dotage?”

She charged me. I saw her crystal clear, running through the snow, eyes wild, sword raised for the kill. Drop down, thrust up under the ribs. The way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach. If I sliced through her heart, she wouldn’t shake it off. She might be my aunt, but she was mortal, damn it.

The world shrank to my aunt and the point of my sword.

Curran, I wish we had more time.

Julie, I love you.

She came at me. The sword arm was too high. If I lunged under that first strike, she was mine.

Something hit me from the left. Breath left my lungs in a single painful burst. I gasped, trying to inhale, and saw the ground vanish down below. Something clamped me in a steel grip and dragged me up the building.