Huntress by Christine Warren

Author:Christine Warren
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780312943820
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2009-07-01T04:00:00+00:00

NINE

It was like being bludgeoned in the head, Maggie thought. Seeing Trace felt like a physical blow, and the young woman stared for one long moment, blood roaring in her ears. The sickening crunch of taking another life—even a life that had threatened her own—faded in comparison to seeing Trace.

The men released Samuel. He slipped off the table, dropping quickly to Maggie’s side. She clutched his hand, leaning heavily against his shoulder as he helped her stand. She could not stop looking at Trace. The old woman looked good and healthy, with a light raging through her eyes that could have been anger or pleasure.

Ekir strode to Trace but did not attack her. He clutched the cape of feathers, and the old woman reached out and took it from him. He let her, and when she held out her hand and pointed to the cape he already wore, his expression darkened, but he did as she asked. Yielding to Trace as though he feared her.

“She won,” said the old woman. “Just as I promised. Just as we bargained. She beat your leader at his game, and so she owns you now. She owns you.”

“She knows nothing of us, or herself,” Ekir rumbled, the side of his face not quite as caved in, though his eye was still hidden—or perhaps just smashed beyond recognition. “She could never lead us.”

Trace grunted. “Crow. The demon questions your lady.”

Samuel rose to his feet and in two steps snatched one of Maggie’s forgotten whirly-gigs off a nearby table. Ekir began to turn, but Samuel was too fast—so fast, Maggie wondered if he had let himself be captured. Nothing but a blur, and then blood spurted and she saw that he had shoved one of the tin blades into Ekir’s remaining good eye.

The wounded man staggered, blind, against the table, grunting with pain. Trace kicked at the back of his knees, and he went down hard. She grabbed his hair, yanked back his head, and kissed him hard.

Not just a kiss, Maggie realized in horror. She was sucking him dry, stealing his life, just as Irdu’s spirit had been stolen, consumed.

Trace was not human.

And neither, Maggie realized, was she.

The other men backed away toward the doors. Something came over her. She stood and lurched past Samuel, who caught her waist as she began to fall. No words escaped her throat, just a low growl that twisted from her chest, raw with fury. The men froze.

Trace released Ekir, who fell backward into a boneless heap. The woman wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her eyes bright, her skin less wrinkled. Ten years had been knocked off her life, Maggie thought.

“Run,” Trace whispered to the men. “But you remember what happened here. You remember what you owe us, and you stay clean and good. You keep away from people, much as you dare. You know you can.”

“No,” Maggie began to say, but the men nodded solemnly—if not with some disgust, and fear. They left the bookstore, filing into the night.

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