Page 127 of Reap & Sow

He lifted her to standing. Eda clung to him on instinct. They regarded one another: she with open trepidation, Mr. Night with no discernible expression at all. His injuries were inflamed and angry, his breathing labored through his nose. You can be harmed after all, Eda thought, even as she trembled like a rabbit in his arms.

“Sweet Eda. I expected the bishop’s weakness of character. But yours?” His claws dug at her waist. “I confess myself hurt that you would plot against me. I thought we understood each other. You were better than the rest of them.”

Them. Humans. Mortals.

“I’m not better,” Eda said. It hurt to talk. “I’m exactly like all the rest. It isn’t such a failing.” She tried to pull away. He did not let her. “You aren’t hurt, Mr. Night. You let them take Ben and Lawrie, let the bishop turn Blackbridge against me. It’s all a game to you. My life is a game. You don’t even care about the last ten years we owe—it’s nothing to you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweet thing. No matter how much one already has, there can always be more. But you are shortsighted. A flaw I can easily forgive, for I am fond of you. Whether you believe so or not.”

“So your greed is a virtue, but human greed is a vice?” Eda was mortified to realize she was crying. Not for him but for herself. For the version of herself that had once believed his honeyed words. “You’re fond of me as one is fond of a pet, a dancing bear at the end of your leash. And when I’m no longer diverting, no longer useful—what then?” He seemed surprised by her rancor. “Tell me you don’t mean to kill us if we fail to get you your years by sundown.”

Mr. Night caught a tear on his claw. The charred welt across his eye pinched as he frowned at it. “I care nothing for your loutish brothers, but you…you have always shown respect, and an admirable mettle besides. I am tempted to spare you. Keep you by my side. If you continued to bring me years of your own free will, you would want for nothing. You would remain ever useful, and thus would never tire me.” He pressed his nose to hers until the tip of his horn dug cruelly into her cheek. “So long as you remember your place.”

He shoved her away.

Mr. Night turned and marched to the edge of the glyph. He faced the watching Blades and held his arms wide. “None of you simpering fools could kill me. Not if you tried for a thousand years! You will not hold me here for long. Your little alchemists will weaken, and I shall be free. Then I’ll rip your spines out your miserable arses!” The air trembled. The Blades took a step back, crossbows trembling. He laughed and said something in guttural Infernal.

He can’t hurt me without losing a thousand years. But neither could Eda hurt him. If the Shaws harmed Mr. Night or his Gateway, he’d be free to kill them without consequence. It was a clear stipulation of their Pact. But he had to die. If he did not, Lawrie would.

The Blades could fire their arrows and throw their nets until they had none left, but how did you injure a creature that could turn into living smoke?

Take him by surprise.

Eda was charging across the platform before she knew what she intended. “I know my place, Baelion.”

He turned.

She drove the chisel into his chest.

Mr. Night bellowed. In the next instant, Eda was flying across the dais. Her back hit the Gateway with shocking force; she slumped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. She heard yelling, but her vision danced. Pain flared everywhere. She tasted blood.

The blurry shape that was Mr. Night drew the chisel from his chest with an agonized snarl, hands smoking. It clattered to the ground. He swayed in pain, but Eda clearly hadn’t stabbed him deeply enough. He strode toward her with an expression that sent her bowels churning—all blistering black rage. His tail lashed like a whip. His claws flexed. In his burning eyes, she saw her own death.

Ben raced after him. Tenelle ordered him to get out of the way. Crossbows readied to fire.

Idiot, she thought despairingly as Mr. Night’s shadow fell over her. The mirror was hard against her back. You idiot, Ben. Leave me. Don’t die here too.

In one last desperate bid to buy herself another moment, she spat, “Vhesak’din!”

Fuck you.

Mr. Night stopped dead in astonishment. One moment he was staring down at her, garish as a ghoul with the glyph illuminating his every sharp angle.

The next, a dark shape crashed to the ground between them.

Mr. Night reared. The Blades shouted in alarm. Ben slid to a halt.

The black figure uncoiled from his landing crouch, and Eda’s heart thumped painfully. She would recognize him anywhere.

“…Kit?”

A glowing eye turned toward her. His broken horn caught the frigid light, casting shadows across his face. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

“Little brother.” Mr. Night stared. Uncharacteristic shock rapidly melted into ghastly delight. “After all these years, you dare to face me? Now?”

Kit was still looking at Eda when he said, softly, “I finally have something worth fighting for.”

Then he punched the other demon in the face.