Page 154 of Cold Curses
Black threw out his hand for another volley. But other than blood dripping, nothing happened.
“You may not have noticed,” I said, “but all that demon magic you collected has been evaporating above your head since you tried to rip the magic out of me. I guess I didn’t mention we planted a virus.”
He let go of my hand, then put his own atop his head as if to feel the seeping magic.
I rose. I was unsteady but on my feet, blood still trickling down my face. I raised my sword, struggling to keep my balance.
“I may talk too much,” I said. “I may have more than I deserve. But I am just right. And I am done. I run you in, or you take a knee. You have three seconds to decide.”
Hatred boiled off him.
“Two.”
His lip curled.
“One,” I said, and let the tip draw blood.
A coward at heart, he dropped to his knees.
And then he grunted and keeled over.
“Sorry!” Behind him, Lulu looked totally unrepentant about the blue smoke rising from his back. “Must’ve slipped.”
Gwen walked closer, nudged him with a foot. “Is he dead?”
“No,” Lulu said. “Just napping, and he’ll have one hell of a headache when he wakes up.” Her grin was feral. “Whoopsy.”
“Love to see it,” Gwen said, then whistled for the roundup team. “Box him up!”
I let them handle that, ran to where Swift was now on the ground. The chains were a pile of smoking metal a few yards away.
“I didn’t know silver could smoke,” I said to Petra.
She grinned. “You put enough power into it, pretty much anything will.”
“Good job.”
A hand grabbed mine, and I turned to find Connor. He looked worn down—that silver again—but alive.
“You were magnificent,” he said, and kissed me lavishly, hungrily, greedily as if he wanted nothing else for the rest of his life.
And though we were surrounded by cops and sups and shifters and sorcerers, I let him.
* * *
The sun rose, and the cleanup began. Invasive trees and shrubs that the rewilding ley lines had added to the city were cleared away. Repairs began in earnest on roads and buildings. The port was reopened. And slowly, over the coming days, humans began to file back in. And many of them paused to snap photos at the new plaques that marked the outer edges of the demon ward. Uncle Catcher thought that was a security risk; he didn’t want anyone else to grok the bubble’s precise dimensions. But the mayor overrode him, thinking the city’s residents needed to understand what had gone on in their absence.
If Chicago’s remaining demons stayed under the radar, hurt no one, they wouldn’t be targeted. If they chose violence, we had salt and swords and sigils.
When Kieran was well enough to travel, we met at NAC headquarters to see him off.
“I can’t thank you enough for what you did for me,” he said.
“We got you into it,” I said. “Only fair that we got you out.”
He smiled. “I figured you’d say that, because you don’t just talk the talk.” He shifted his gaze to Connor. “Same goes for you. I wasn’t sure what I’d find here. Maybe a coward. Maybe a man bewitched by a vampire. But I found a shifter who loves his people, his family, his woman. And will risk it all to save someone he barely knows.”
Connor shook his head. “You’re wrong that we’re strangers. We fought together. Chewed demons together. That makes you Pack. And I don’t put Elisa on the line.” He looked at me. “She’s just that brave. And she’s Pack, too.”
