If we weren't too late already, we were going to be in a minute.
I didn't waste any time.
"Merit!" Ethan yeled, but I was already in the air and on my way into the missile shaft. I landed in a crouch on the pedestal the Maleficium had once rested on.
In front of me, in a large circular room, were the enemies I'd sought. Malory was hunched over the Maleficium, which was open on the ground. Tate stood between me and Malory, and Paige lay injured on the ground beside him, bloody and unconscious. She wasn't wearing her jacket or cap; Tate must have conned - or dragged - her out of the house.
"Helo, Balerina," Tate said.
Tonight he wore a dark suit over a dark shirt and tie. Death in a beautiful package, except that he, too, looked exhausted - worn out and gaunt, and not any better than Malory did.
Perhaps he wasn't immune to the effects of black magic, either.
"I suppose I could say I'm pleased you survived your trip, although that would probably sound hypocritical."
I heard footfals behind me and knew Ethan had landed in the shaft.
"And him as wel," Tate flatly said. "But that would just be dishonest."
"Move away from the book," I told them, crouching a bit and readying for action.
"You know I'm not going to do that."
Another pulse of magic lit through the room, the book its obvious origin point. The floor and wals shook with it.
I'd be damned if I was going to end up crushed beneath the concrete and steel of a forty-year-old missile silo in Nebraska.
"Ethan," I said, "I'm going low."
"Then I've got high," he said, stepping forward, sword outstretched.
I stepped back, then ran ful speed toward Tate. His eyes widened as I moved, but Ethan distracted him with a slash of his sword.
I dropped to my knees and let the momentum push me along the slick, painted concrete floor to Malory's spot on the other side of the room.
I popped back up again, leaving Ethan to deal with Tate, and pointed my sword at her.
"This is the last time I wil tel you this, witch. Back off!"
She looked up from the Maleficium, her fingers bloody and hovering over the text, nothing but pain in her eyes.
I might have been able to talk her out of anger or fear or exhaustion, but pain was its own kind of demon, and I wasn't sure talking would have any effect.
I heard the crack of flesh and bone and glanced back at Ethan. He'd gone the old-fashioned route and attempted to give Tate another right hook across the jaw, probably as a thank-you for the damage to his Mercedes.
But this time, Tate knew the shot was coming, and he was fast enough to avoid it. He'd put out a hand to catch Ethan's fist, and held him there for a moment, Ethan's eyes wild.
"I'd have thought my prior warnings would have had some effect."
"I'm a slow learner."
"I suppose wisdom doesn't come with age, eh?" With barely a brush of Tate's hand, Ethan flew across the room and landed against a steel support column.
The column buckled and Ethan hit the ground.
"Ethan!" My heart skipped a beat in the split second before he looked up at Tate. Blood ran down the side of his face from a gash on his head, and it took him much longer than usual to stand up again, but he did stand up.
I started forward to go to him, but his eyes widened.
"Behind you!" he caled out.
I looked back. Malory had gathered together a bal of magic that now glowed between her hands. The bluish light reflected unflatteringly up and across her face, like a flashlight held beneath the chin of a schoolchild. And then, as if I were a stranger - a threat instead of a longtime friend - she pitched that magic directly at me.
My first instinct was to duck. After al, I'd taken an orb or two and the sparks from a dozen others when I hadn't been fast enough in training. I assumed those had contained only low-grade magic, but they stil hurt, leaving ugly burns that took a few days to fade, even on a quick-healing vampire.
Honestly, that instinct kicked in pretty quickly, and I dodged and wove around two or three orbs that shattered against the wals behind me.
But as I dodged, I also wondered...
Catcher hadn't let me use my sword during magical dodgebal. I'd assumed he hadn't wanted to risk damaging my antique katana. But what if the issue wasn't damage to the sword - but damage to the orb?
That possibility was, I thought, worth a little experiment. And so, instead of continuing to avoid Malory's magic, I decided to stare it down.
I gripped the handle of my sword in both hands and raised the sword in front of me...just like a bat.
Going, I thought to myself.
Malory slung the orb into the air like a major league pitch, its flight straight and true and aimed for my heart. I wiggled my fingers around the handle...and when the moment was right, I swung.
Going.
The vibration of pure magic and magical steel - steel I had tempered with my own vampiric blood al those moons ago - nearly wrenched off my arm. But I kept my fingers tight around the leather and ray-skin handle...and watched the orb shatter into a milion blue sparks.
"Gone," I murmured, watching the fireworks until the sparks dissipated, then sliding my gaze back to Malory, eyebrow arched in a perfect imitation of Ethan. "Got anything else?"
She apparently took my sarcasm as a chalenge. One orb after another flew in my direction, each one spicier - more magicaly potent - than the last. She worked with the effort - teeth gritted, forehead damp even in the November chil.
And she made me work, too. I puled out every move and maneuver I'd ever practiced, or seen Catcher or Ethan execute, or watched on Wrigley Field. I slashed forward, backward, and from both sides. I flipped backward to avoid a pale blue orb, then flew to the floor to avoid a shot aimed at my head.
It missed me by more than it should have. Malory was getting tired.
Normaly, she'd have been smart enough to think through her actions, to plan a couple of steps ahead. But tonight, if she was already tired, maybe I could bait her one more time.
I stood up again and crooked a finger in her direction, as Ethan had done so many times for me. "You want me? Come and get me."
She bared her teeth, then began to spin her fingers and pul together another bal of magic from the ether.
I opened my arms. "You think you can hit me, witch? Right in the chest?"
She wound up and threw her pitch.
I let every vampire sensibility loose - sight, sound, taste, smel.
The world exploded into sensations, but events around me seemed to slow down because of it. I watched the orb of blue light inch toward me; in slow motion, its surface was a pitted swirl of energy, and it sought out a landing spot, a home.