Page 282 of Sky’s Edge

And it began.

I learned what that spot was on the photo of Tanyn and me from the party.

Our attackers were invisible.

I didn’t have time to contemplate that either, because Monique went right into action.

The shriek the first one let out was abrupt when, with a swing of her blade staff, Monique cut the first one in two at the midriff, his blood spraying monstrously as the glamor flickered out and he instantly became visible when he received the wound.

His shriek might have been abrupt and short lived, but it was deafening in that chamber.

The pieces of his body fell to the platform floor.

I felt the sick instantly rising up, but Monique was already fighting another one.

This one invisible.

I couldn’t watch, not because I really didn’t want to (really!), but because I was grabbed from behind.

I had never so much as taken a self-defense class.

Either instinct or self-preservation set in, because without hesitation, I slammed my elbow back with all the force I could muster.

I heard his Oof! right before I bent viciously at the waist, throwing the invisible being over my head, and although I saw no one, I heard his body hit the stone floor.

I’d studied that shimmer on the picture for so long, I recognized it on the stone of the plateau.

Thus, I aimed a well-placed kick at it with all my strength.

I heard another Oof! and the shimmer went flying into the flames that, since our arrival, had risen dramatically higher.

Another shriek, this one longer as the being’s glamor burned off the instant he hit the flames and he immediately disappeared down into the pit.

I didn’t have the opportunity to go to the edge and see how far down he went.

I had another one on me.

I twisted out of his hold, turned on him and went hand to hand, kick for kick.

He thought he had an advantage.

But I hyper-concentrated on the waves of the air and could duck, sidestep, jump, and land my own strikes.

He still was stronger, backing me to the edge of the plateau.

Gods dammit!

This stopped when, with a crouching twirl, Monique cut both his feet off at the ankles with her staff.

I would never forget his scream of pain, or how it turned to fear while he listed over the side of the plateau, became visible, and like he was in slow motion (but none of this was happening in slow motion, not even close), he teetered into the flames, frantically grasping at air that would not stop him from falling.

He fell.

And I had two of them on me.

Monique was still battling others.

How many, I didn’t know.