Page 46 of Bewitching the Dragon
The blade he referred to rested in a leather sheath that hung on her hip. She was supposed to keep it on her person at all times. She didn’t tell him so, but she took it off to shower and to sleep, because, damn it, she was too new at this game and she was afraid she’d roll over and stab herself while she slept.
And now she was going to add poison to the razor-sharp blade.
Definitely not sleeping with it.
She pulled the small knife out of its holder and held it up to the sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window. The handle was embedded with colorful gems and carved with intricate scrollwork, and while Argyle admitted he did not know what all the hieroglyphics meant, he did know that this blade had been given to the very first Daughter of Light by the leader of the gods—who happened to be that woman’s grandfather.
Argyle said it was infused with some pretty powerful magic, but that the magic, like the gods who created it, was finicky at best. Thus the decision to coat the blade with poison.
Just in case.
Becca tugged thick, leather gloves over her hands to protect them while she dabbled with poison-creating concoctions.
Suddenly, she was slapped with an overwhelming sense of pain—searing, blinding agony. She shouted and flung her arms out, knocking over the glass vial filled with poison and sending the knife flying off the counter. Neon-green liquid the consistency of mercury spilled across the granite, leaving a trail of bubbling stone in its wake as it found the path of least resistance straight to the sink, while the small blade clattered to the floor and skidded away, out of sight.
Becca flung the gloves away and dropped to her knees, clutching her chest, which felt like it was burning from the inside out. Pacey screamed. Even stoic Argyle looked pained as his head swiveled this way and that, presumably searching for the source of whatever was happening to Becca.
But she already knew. He wouldn’t see anything.
“Rahu,” she gasped out. “They have Rahu.”
“What?” Pacey asked.
The pain finally subsided, and Becca took a few precious moments to catch her breath. And then she used the counter for leverage and pulled herself to her feet. Argyle watched her intensely while Pacey wrung her hands and gnawed on her bottom lip.
“The warlocks,” Becca said, scanning the floor for the damn knife. She was going to need it here in a minute. “They have Rahu. And they’re torturing him.”
“How do you know that?” Pacey asked.
Argyle didn’t say anything. He pursed his lips though and looked disapproving, and something about the way he watched her told her he knew more than she or Pacey did. But in typical Argyle fashion, he wasn’t letting them in on the secret.
It was frustrating as hell working with gargoyles.
“I don’t know,” Becca said. “But they’re about to hurt him again, and I can’t let that happen, so you’d better get ready, because we’re about to do battle, right here, right now.”
“Right—what? Rebecca, no,” Pacey said. “No, don’t bring them here—”
Too late.
“Rahu!” she screamed, closing her eyes and squeezing her fists and willing him here with every ounce of magic she could gather.
Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop.
It sounded like she’d summoned an air popcorn popper instead of four warlocks and a dragon with his wrists tied together behind his back. And blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
“You bastards,” she shrieked, and she leaped at the one closest to her, grabbed him on either side of his face, and twisted with all her strength. Magic sizzled in the air, and then there was a loudcrackand his lifeless body fell to the ground.
One down…
“Well, well, well,” the Cinderella lead singer look-alike said, observing Becca from where he stood across the room, far out of reach. “Looks like the overprotective gargoyle finally let his Daughter of Light learn a few tricks.”
Becca snagged a butcher knife from the block on the counter and flung it at him. He batted it away, and the thing embedded itself in the wall next to a window. She needed that damn blade Argyle had given her.
One of the other band members started to rush her, but Rahu, who had been on his knees, looking as if he were trying really hard to stay upright, abruptly lunged forward and twisted, stretching out his bound wrists into the guy’s path. He caught the warlock in the shins and sent him sprawling on the tile floor.
Argyle grabbed the guy’s arms and held him up while commanding, “The blade, Rebecca. Summon it and plunge it into his heart.”
“Summon it, right.” She ought to be an expert at summoning by now. She’d done it accidentally enough times. And this last time had been on purpose. “Blade, come here.”
