Page 35 of Sacrifice of the Vampir
But Marcus only laughed and backhanded me across the room. I slammed into the far wall hard enough to crack the plaster, and stars exploded across my vision. Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Killian's roar.
Eyes still on me, Marcus threw out his hand, and Killian froze still as a stone. The fire of every demon in hell burned behind his eyes when he realized he couldn't move.
"Pathetic," the djinn purred in my ear. "You're supposed to be Killian's best fighter. His lieutenant, so to speak. And look at you—barely able to stand." He tsked with a slight shake of his head. "The bond with your witch is making you weak, vampire. By the time you figure out how to use it, she'll already be dead."
The words punched through my chest like a stake. "Touch her and I'll?—"
"You'll what?" He crouched in front of me, shadows writhing around him like pets. "You can barely feed without her. Can barely function. And when she walks into my dimension to save her precious cousin, she'll be too weak to do it. And you'll be too weak to bring her home. She'll be lost in the threads forever, and it'll be your fault for being too much of a coward to claim what's yours."
Staring at the triumph written all over his face, something in me snapped.
I grabbed his throat and slammed him backward into the floor, concrete cracking under the impact. Baring my fangs, I hissed, "I am not weak."
"Prove it." His answering smile was all teeth. "Because right now, all I see is a pathetic vampire who can't even protect himself, never mind our sweet Talin."
Red flooded my vision. I raised my fist to strike again, but more shadows exploded from Marcus, hurling me off him. I flew across the room and crashed into the bar, feeling ribs crack and tasting the salty copper of my own blood as my face bounced off the surface.
Through the pain, I felt something tug hard at the center of my chest. Then harder. Then so hard I gasped with the force of it.
Talin.
She felt this. Felt me fighting. Felt me hurting.
And she was coming.
"No." I got to my feet, ignoring the grinding pain in my ribs. "NO!"
The front door slammed open.
My little witch stood in the doorway, her green eyes blazing with power, threads of different colored light crackling around her hands with a life of their own. Her black hair whipped around her face in a wind that didn't exist, and my eyes widened. She looked like some ancient goddess of fate and fury.
She found me instantly, taking in my battered state, the blood on my mouth, the way I was favoring my left side.
Then her eyes went back to Marcus. "Get. Away. From him."
Her voice was ice. It was death. It was everything terrible and beautiful at once.
Marcus stared in shock for a moment, then laughed and clapped his hands together. "The Threadwalker! In the flesh! How delightful. Come to save your mate?"
"I said, get away from him."
The threads around her hands brightened, intensified, and suddenly I could see them. All of them. Marcus's red thread. The blue thread connecting her to Alex. Even the silver thread binding her to me, visible now because of her power. And thousands more, shimmering in the air like a web only she could fully perceive.
She was magnificent.
She was terrifying.
She was going to get herself fucking killed.
"Talin, no—" I started toward her, but Marcus scowled at me, and suddenly my feet were rooted to the floor.
I couldn't move.
My blood ran cold as Marcus tilted his head, studying her with predatory interest. "You shouldn't be able to see the threads this clearly. Not without proper training, which I know you haven't had. Unless—" His eyes widened slightly. "You've been forcing your power. Tearing yourself apart trying to find our Alex. How wonderfully self-destructive."
"Shut up." She took a step forward, and the threads around her hands wove themselves into something that looked like a blade. "You're going to leave. Now. And you're going to stay away from everyone I care about. Or I'm going to cut every single thread of fate that connects you to this world and watch you unravel into nothing."
The threat should have been empty. She was one young witch against a djinn who was centuries old. And he was right. She had no training, no full understanding of her powers.
