Page 207 of Bedeviled

The stronger the magic we cast, the less we can control who that magic touches, he told me months ago. Fields would be strewn with entire armies, and I would sit there on my steed, untouched.

I glance at Nero. “Stay here,” I command.

I push away from the tree then, and without a backward glance, I dash toward the entrance. I skirt around puddles of blood and fallen fighters.

Supernaturals are running toward me, but even as they flee, arms of Memnon’s magic lash out at them. His power first wraps around their torsos, and they have a single moment to scream before the rest of his magic flows over them, muffling the sound.

Even the winged beings aren’t safe from Memnon’s magic. I watch as one fairy leaps into the air, and she’s so close to freedom when that iridescent power rushes at her. She lets out a yelp as it winds around her midsection, and then she’s dragged back down.

I stare in abject horror at it all, my attention only drawn away when, from the corner of my eye, I notice a dark shadow. I glance over to see my familiar loping next to me.

“Nero,” I admonish. “You were supposed to stay back where it’s safe.”

I trust Memnon’s magic not to hurt me, but even my familiar could be at risk of his power’s volatile wrath.

The panther responds by moving in closer.

Crap, for better or worse, he’s coming with me.

“Stay close,” I tell him. An order he actually seems to listen to.

Ahead of me plumes of that deep blue magic build on one another, and it looks for all the world like gathering thunderclouds.

Another arm of that power snakes out, barreling straight for me. I only have a moment to brace before it engulfs me and Nero.

Inside it, it’s a maelstrom, the indigo swathes of it lit up by flashes of electricity. Each bright burst illuminates the shadowy, screaming forms of writhing supernaturals, each one succumbing to whatever dark spell Memnon has placed upon them.

And yet for me, his power has always felt like peace. Home.

I wind my way between Memnon’s captives, Nero at my side as I search for my husband. While I do so, his magic appears to darken, and I wonder whether the Bargainer’s own shadowy power is somehow to blame.

I could call on my own power to clear a path through Memnon’s magic to find him, and I’m nearly certain it would work, but instead, I choose to close my eyes and focus on our connection. I can feel him across the span of it like a heartbeat, ever so close to my own. No matter the time, the place or world, our spirits call out for one another.

Focusing on his life force, I follow that thread of connection between us, the one our thoughts pass across, and I move through the magic-choked halls of the Flora palace. Nero sticks closely to my side, and despite the continued screams around us, both my familiar and I walk with immunity through the soup of Memnon’s power.

I can’t tell how deep into the castle I’ve gone, or how many terrifying sounds I hear—bones cracking, blood dripping, flesh squelching—when I finally catch sight of the sorcerer’s familiar silhouette.

I take in his profile—his shoulder-length hair, which flutters in the wake of his own magic, his glowing amber eyes that illuminate the deep scar that runs from cheekbone to jaw. His lightly curved nose and sensual lips. The panther tattoo that claws up his neck, and that body that’s been built for ending lives but has held me so gently.

Memnon is a terrible, mighty force, so much so that even now it’s hard to comprehend that he has found himself at the mercy of first Eislyn and now myself.

The fairy herself is nowhere in sight—not a great sign—nor is the Bargainer for that matter.

“Memnon!” I call out to him.

He falters, then turns to face me.

“My queen.” His deep voice resonates.

I search his features, desperate to figure out what happened in here and whether Eislyn has been stopped.

“Pull your power back,” I command.

He stares at me, and despite our connection, his mind is a swirling mystery. Only possessiveness and an all-consuming fury rule him as far as I can tell.

I sense, however, that he is trying.

Several moments pass. I wait for the indigo magic around us to clear. Instead, it continues to darken.