“Dammit, Sally.”
“I know what you’re going to say.” She lowered her voice to mimic his sexy growl. “Sally, run away like a good little witch while I play the conquering hero.”
He made a sound of annoyance. “You read too many romance novels.”
True. She loved romance novels.
Why not?
It wasn’t as if she were ever going to have a real-life Prince Charming sweep her off her feet.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” She pointed a finger in his face. “You want me to run and hide while you stay and fight.”
He muttered a low curse, leaning forward until they were nose to nose.
“Would you rather I asked you to stay and fight while I run away?”
She held her ground, meeting him glare for glare.
“I’d rather you accept that I might be able to help. I’m not completely worthless, you know.”
“I never . . .” He pulled back, a nerve twitching at the edge of his mouth. “Christ. There’s no winning this argument.”
“Then don’t waste time on it,” she suggested. “We need a plan.”
“Too late,” he muttered, grabbing the music box as the back door was thrust open.
Sally held her breath as a shadow fell across the floor and a delicate creature stepped into the kitchen.
She gave a choked sound of surprise as she studied the chubby demon with a round head and translucent skin that was nearly hidden beneath the brown robe.
Expecting a towering troll-like figure, or even a cyborg, Sally blinked in shock.
“Is that a Miera demon?”
He shifted close enough for her to feel the rigid tension of his muscles.
“Yes.”
“He looks like a banker,” she muttered, but despite the creature’s bland appearance, she found herself pressing against Roke’s shoulder as he crept near.
The entire room was overwhelmed with a choking menace that made her hair stand on end.
Moving with a fluid ease that seemed odd for the pudgy body, the Miera slowly walked around the edge of the circle, flicking out a forked tongue as if it could sense the magic.
“Lower your shields,” the demon at last commanded, his human English remarkably polished.
Like a posh Englishman.
Sally shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
He halted directly before them, his tongue still flicking. “I mean you no harm.”
“That would be easier to believe if you hadn’t just tried to kill us,” Roke drawled.
“All I want is a box,” the creature said. “Give it to me and I will walk away.”
Sally hissed in shock.
Stupidly she hadn’t actually considered why they would suddenly be attacked by a strange demon. And even if she had, she wouldn’t have immediately guessed it had anything to do with the box.
It had, after all, sat in this abandoned cottage for years without attracting attention.
Beside her Roke smiled, clearly having suspected why the demon had attacked. He held up the box so the glyphs etched in the polished wood were visible in the candlelight.
“You mean this box?” he taunted.
A flick of the tongue. “Yes.”
“Why?” Roke prodded. “Is there something special about it?”
“It belongs to me.”
“Odd. You don’t look fey.”
The pale, round face remained emotionless, but the sense of malevolence thickened in the air.
Sally frowned. Somehow she suspected that the demon wasn’t deliberately trying to frighten them with the heavy atmosphere of evil.
Instead it was as if it was . . . leaking out of him.
“It was a gift,” the demon smoothly countered.
Roke tapped the top of the box with his dagger, his gaze noting the intruder’s most subtle reaction.
Vampires were masters at detecting weakness in their enemies.
“What does it do?”
“Nothing.” The creature lifted a hand. “It’s merely a decoration.”
Roke shook his head. “You don’t risk war with the vampires over a trinket.”
Genuine confusion rippled over the Miera’s face, his body seeming to smudge and flicker at the edges. What the heck? Was it an illusion?
“I have no fight with the vampires.”
“You will,” Roke assured him. “Styx takes it quite personally when someone tries to kill one of his clan chiefs.”
There was a hesitation and Sally belatedly understood Roke’s tactic.
He was judging the desperation of the creature not only by revealing that he was a clan chief, but also by tapping the box with the dagger. It would prove just how important the box was to the Miera and how anxious he was to get his hands on it.
“As I said, give me the box and there will be no need for bloodshed,” the demon at last commanded, clearly worried his box might be damaged by the dagger.
“You haven’t said what it does,” Roke countered, his attention focused on the Miera who was once again walking around the circle even as he spoke directly into her mind.
Be ready to run....
Sally swallowed a tiny gasp. Hadn’t she told him not to do that?
And if she hadn’t, then that was something that needed to be taken care of ASAP.
Well, just as soon as they were out of trouble.
“The shield is weakening,” the Miera pronounced, flicking his tongue with obvious satisfaction.
Roke covertly slid his dagger back into the holster at his lower back.
“If you attack us you risk destroying the box,” he reminded the demon, reaching to grasp her hand.
“There are some risks worth taking,” the demon hissed, his pale eyes abruptly morphing to a startling black that was slit with red.
Sally might have been wigged out by the strange eyes if she hadn’t been desperately struggling to maintain the shield.
The past three weeks had taken their toll.
Her magical tank was running on empty.
The cracks in the shield were beginning to form when she felt a warning blast of frigid air.
Roke’s power.
Familiar with the bad, bad things that could happen when the vampire released his innate talent, she made no protest when he yanked her to her feet and shoved her toward the door.
“Sally, now,” he barked, trusting her to lower the shield in time for them to leap over the candles.
The demon gave an eerie growl of fury, but before he could react there was a shower of splinters as the overhead beams shattered beneath Roke’s power. In the next second Sally was tossed out the door and the cottage that had withstood a century of violent storms, a rare earthquake, and an attack by a rival witch, collapsed into a pile of rubble.