Page 101 of Want Me, Take Me, Haunt Me, Make Me

Perthrux’s claws scraped divots in the ground as it stalked forward. “Oh, you’lllearn.” The words came out barely recognizable as rage stripped its ability to speak in human tongues. As the fire reached for it, it made a gesture of its own with one too-long arm, and the flame shrank back.

From behind the flames, Maxwell met Hazel’s eyes for just a moment, and he gave her one calm nod. She realized what he was doing: not hoping to kill Perthrux, which would probably take an army of sorcerers, but buying her time.

One knee throbbed. Hazel ignored it. Blood was hot on the side of her face. It didn’t matter. She was pretty sure she’d torn at least one ligament, a series of laddered cuts staggered up her side wherePerthrux had struck her, and her shoulder might never be the same. She put them all out of her mind.

Two steps to the dais. One.

She pulled herself up, faced the gray head, and flung her knife straight between its eyes.

* * *

The air itself screamed around Maxwell, almost drowning out Perthrux’s wail. He couldn’t see beyond the demon’s form, but he knew that its advance stopped abruptly, though its face twisted, and it writhed where it stood.

Maxwell didn’t move either. The fire he’d called kept draining him, and he knew he’d come to the end of his strength soon. That was all right. What better use was his power, now that it was his again? He held on, watching Perthrux struggle, and smiled as the force that had stopped it slowly started to draw it backward toward the center of the room.

The bone constructs on the wall behind him fell apart, the clacking briefly audible over the howling noise from the dais, and their prisoner hit the floor with a thump. It faded quickly into thin air, hopefully into a more pleasant place than it had known for however long Perthrux had held it captive. Out of the corner of his eye, Maxwell saw that the walls to the side were missing their carved mouths as well.

Finally, he could see the place pulling Perthrux in: a spreading point of blankness where the floating head and the dais had once been. The demon was still twisting, struggling against the vortex, and Maxwell met its gaze one final time.

He smiled.

Then he let go of the flame.

It died almost instantly, letting Maxwell see the rest of the room as the center rapidly disappeared. Perthrux was distorting, its voicegibbering ever more faint words in a language he never wanted to know, but Maxwell had better things to do than watch its exile continue.

A woman sprawled against the far wall, black hair dark against bone, both of her hands empty. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and her mouth twitched up into a smile as her blue eyes focused on Maxwell.

He saw nothing else as he ran toward her.

Chapter 53

Hazel had gotten to her knees by the time Maxwell got to her side. She moved all right, if gingerly, but Maxwell’s first real sight of her filled him with cold horror.

Blood covered her neck.

“My God,” he said, and kneeled by her. “Don’t move. Don’t try to speak.”

He’d never been a medical man. What scraps of knowledge he had acquired tumbled around in his mind like leaves in a windstorm. The blood was flowing, not spurting, and he vaguely remembered that was a good sign. Hazel’s eyes were clear and focused, too, and she was breathing rapidly but steadily.

Leaning forward, he squinted and tried to see how bad the wound was, then blinked as he couldn’t make out any. The blood probably concealed it. He hadn’t thought to bring bandages, and his robes wouldn’t rip easily, but Hazel would surely understand if he used one of her shirtsleeves.

“Maxwell,” she said, contrary to his instructions, and ignored him further by putting a hand on his arm. “I’m all right.”

As she spoke, he lifted his gaze to her face and noticed, for the first time, the long gash across her chin.

He’d never been so glad to feel so stupid.

“Head wounds always bleed a lot,” she said, and might have goneon except that Maxwell pulled her into his arms, and whatever she was going to say vanished in a gasp. Then she was embracing him just as tightly, warm and solid and alive. They clung together, losing track of their surroundings, until something cold and wet poked Maxwell in the ear. He turned hastily, reaching for the feeble remnants of his power.

Casper licked his face with an icy tongue.

Hazel promptly flung her arms around the dog as well, giggling madly even while tears started running down her face. “Oh, thank God, you’re alive. Well—”

“You do pick your moments,” said Maxwell, petting Casper under the chin. “I deserve at least a bit of a surprise, though. Awfully sorry.”

Casper, seemingly untroubled by any past events, wagged his tail. “Yourmood’s improved,” Hazel said. “Not that you’re the only one. What now?” She eyed the room skeptically, and with good reason. It was falling apart. The blankness that had claimed Perthrux had almost erased the dais, and the ceiling had crumbled soundlessly to nothing. Maxwell could make out a faint blue above it—not the sky, but the formless ethereal moving in. “When demons depart, they go quickly,” he said.

“Should we be running?”