Master of Darkness by Angela Knight

Author:Angela Knight [Knight, Angela]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group, USA
Published: 2012-07-20T05:00:00+00:00

THIRTEEN

He flung up his hands. “All right, I stopped! I’ll . . .”

But the chains went on tightening, blazing so bright her skin began to burn. Curls of greasy smoke stung her eyes with the nauseating stench of cooking skin. Every link of the chain grew white hot. Miranda writhed, a scream tearing her throat, though she couldn’t draw enough breath to give it voice. Her knees buckled.

Justice caught her, easing her down on the ground, one hand cupping her head to keep it from slamming on the ground with the power of her convulsions.

“Miranda!” His face looked as white as bone china. “Miranda, what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Maeve,” she wheezed, the sound barely audible. “Get . . .”

The pain died as if God had flipped a switch. Miranda sucked in a huge breath and collapsed in gasping relief. Her burning flesh cooled, only to ache and prickle as circulation returned.

“Naughty, naughty, traitor,” her father whispered in her brain. “Leave my spell alone and stay out of my way if you don’t want to die.”

He could touch her mind at this distance, all the way from Mortal Earth? Across dimensions? Fury and terror knifed her heart. “If you could do this, why haven’t you killed me already?”

“Oh, I’ll get around to it . . . eventually. At the moment, you’re just not that high on my priority list.”

“I’ll give you a priority list, you ass-sniffing son of a bitch . . .”

But he was gone. The icy presence had vanished from her consciousness, leaving her numb to the bone.

God, Warlock was powerful.

“Miranda,” Justice said in a low, careful voice. “What’s going on, honey? Talk to me.”

“Warlock. It was Warlock.” She concentrated on breathing for a moment, gathering her strength. Realizing her right hand was empty, she grabbed his wrist. “My athame! Justice, where’s my knife?”

He glanced around, then pounced on the bright blade lying in the leaves. When he pressed the hilt into her palm, Miranda curled her fingers gratefully around the cool metal. The weapon sang a note so pure and high, strength flooded her body, the last of the pain vanishing like a nightmare at dawn.

“We’ve got to quit doing this,” she gasped. “It’s kicking my butt.” Miranda tried to sit up, but would have hit the ground again without Justice’s supporting arms.

“Don’t try to stand just yet,” he cautioned. “Give yourself a little time.”

“Okay.” Cradling the athame in both hands, she sat dazed, watching magic dart across the blade in waves of Celtic sigils. “M’okay, Justice.”

“Yeah, right,” he said roughly. “Considering I nearly fried your pretty ass like a fish stick, you’re just dandy.”

The guilt in his voice roused her from her daze. “That wasn’t you. That was Warlock.” She described what her father had said. “He can kill me any time with this damned spell, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Like hell.” A muscle rolled in Justice’s square jaw, jerking under the morning stubble. “I’m not going to just let him murder you, Miranda.

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