Page 15 of The Last Slayer
“What kind of trick is this?” I said.
“Do you not recognize her?”
“No.” I would’ve remembered someone who looked like her, even if I’d only seen her in passing. It was the image of a goddess.
He chuckled, but it had little humor. I didn’t like the sound.
“Who sent you?” I said.
“Your mother.”
Uh-huh. “Let me rephrase my question. Who did I piss off?”
“That depends on what you mean by piss off.”
So he wasn’t going to tell me anything. How uncool. “Let me go.”
“As you wish.” He placed me carefully on the ground, and my feet sank into the river-dampened moss as I stepped away.
Hmm. I’d figured he’d refuse. He was either really dumb or more powerful than I’d imagined.
It would’ve been nice to have my sword, but I could make do. This was my dream, after all, and I was in charge, Sex or no Sex. And unlike most mortals, I know how to control my dreams. I gathered what remained of my power and let it build inside me. It coursed through my core, humming and swelling, before plunging down through the soles of my feet into the soil.
The earth beneath us drank my magic greedily, then puckered in fifty places and spat spikes at him. The diamond-shaped rock missiles penetrated his armor with the sound of hailstones on a tin roof, hitting all his vital points. The dragonmotifs on his armor came alive, hissing and slithering over the dents and holes, and covered them up.
Too late, suckers.
With a flick of my wrist, I brought fire down upon him. He made a pretty silhouette surrounded by blue-white flames. Damn, I was good. I didn’t even have to recite the spell. It was liberating to be able use magic, really let myself go, without worrying about hurting a client.
He remained still. He hadn’t moved since my initial attack. Maybe I’d overestimated him and he was dead, skewered and charbroiled in his armor, as perfectly cooked as a chunk of filet mig—
Suddenly the patch of ground under me shot up into the sky, taking me with it. The crushing speed of the ascent forced me to my knees, then to my side, then my back. By the time I could roll onto my stomach and look down, the trees of the forest were like dots of broccoli against a lighter grass canvas. The moss carpeting the soil I was on thickened until it created a soft mattress. Then the edges rose, curving up until they joined and created a perfect sphere around me. The sunlight penetrated the moss, and everything looked muted green. I pushed at the wall experimentally. It was soft, but solid as concrete.
Trapped.
He appeared next to me, looking as pristine as if he’d just stepped out of some Renaissance fair brochure. “So aggressive. Didn’t they teach you proper etiquette at that mage school of yours?”
I glared up at him. His presence was as welcome as a cockroach in a crème brûlée. I take that back. His good looks and charisma made him even less welcome than a cockroach. And the fact that he was actually controlling my dream—it was infuriating and terrifying. Just how much power did this incubus have?
“Who are you?” I asked, doing my best to remain calm.
“My name is Ramiel. Now will you listen to me?”
“No.” I wasn’t dumb enough to strike a bargain with a demon. Besides, there was no guarantee that his name was real.
“I would never deliberately hurt you,” he said, as if he’d read my mind.
Riiiiiight. “And I can trust you because…?”
“The fact that I haven’t forced myself on you? I could take Sex from you if I so desired.”
“Might be a little more difficult than you think.”
An eyebrow went up. “Would it?”
As if to emphasize his point, his voice caressed my skin like a mink fur, soft and sensuous. I suppressed a shiver. I didn’t like this at all. Actually I liked it a lot, which was the problem. “Mr. I-Invade-A-Lady’s-Dream-Without-Her-Permission.” I crossed my arms. “I’m a hunter, and not as easily seduced as other mortals.”
“Of course.”
