Page 76 of The Last Slayer
“What do you want? To give me to Nathanael?”
“Nathanael?” Her voice had changed, and now held a cruel edge of scorn. “I don’t care about him or his slayer slut. All that angst, all those wars, and for what? To give it all up for her?” In battle stance, she nonetheless regarded me with a hauteur only the immortals can pull off. “We’re only as good as our heartstones, my dear, and I want yours.”
For a woman who didn’t look particularly athletic, Nahemah wielded tremendous power. Her sword was slightly curved, single-edged and at least eight feet long. She controlled it as if it were a pen.
She gained on me, each swing and thrust surer than the one before. I mistimed a parry, and her blade cut through my dress and dug into my left rib. It burned like a hot poker. I gasped and scrambled sideways, then down before she could slice me in half. The whistle of her sword over my head chilled my blood. The narrow dress tangled around my legs. Shit.
I held her off as long as I could, positioning myself next to a column so that I only had to defend one side of my body. The liliths and samaels continued to sing and fan the room as if swordfights in the middle of dinner were quite common. Maybe they were. Nahemah hadn’t thought twice about killing India in front of her servants.
“If you hate me, why did you let me see Leh?” I asked through clenched teeth.
“Hate you? Silly girl. I couldn’t care less about you.” The distracted smile on her face made my throat clog with fear. “Think what I can do with a slayer’s heartstone, the same one Nathanael has. You were the only one who could get it for me.”
What the—
Nathanael and I both had heartstones from Leh?
I stepped on the hem of my dress, tripped and landed on my back. Nahemah seized the moment. Pinning my sword with a foot, she knelt on my chest. She reached up with her left hand, ready to plunge it into me. I balled my free hand into a fist and punched her in the ribs.
Nahemah screamed, which surprised me. With no leverage, I hadn’t hit her that hard.
She lunged backward, holding on to the stump of her left arm. The hand itself lay in a pool of blood on my stomach. Its fingers moved, trying to scuttle up to my chest. Horrified, I grabbed it and threw it. The fingers opened and closed as it flew through the air.
“Are you all right?”
Ramiel. The real one. Blood covered him from head to toe, ran from his sword. He smelled like death.
I’d never found him more wonderful.
I nodded, stood up. “Where have you been?”
“At a different banquet with an illusion of you.”
“How did you know it wasn’t me?”
His mouth quirked. “Too docile.”
Ramiel’s gaze focused on Nahemah, who was crouched, clutching her stump of a left arm. Pure loathing chiseled her features. Had I found her beautiful before? Now she terrified me more than any demon ever had. Such unholy hatred on a face so angelic.
Her severed hand slid along the floor, the long, perfectly lacquered crimson nails scrabbling for purchase on the smooth marble. It looked like a giant white five-legged spider, and I have extreme arachnophobia. Cold sweat dampened my palms.
It finally stopped, righted itself and came at me again, the nails making a horrible skittering sound. I bit my lower lip to prevent a scream.
When it got close, I punted it as hard as I could and grabbed my sword, determined to hack it to pieces if it came near me one more time. It spun in the air and landed on a platter of lobster meat. Food splattered the nearest samael.
Weston screamed and flew at me like a kamikaze hummingbird. He zipped past at thigh level and ripped a small gash in my leg. He would have been too fast for me before, but now I had a heartstone. The second time he passed, I shifted position and brought my sword down cleanly through his neck. The gossamer wings kept beating, taking the body out into the garden, while the tiny head bounced and rolled, coming to rest against Nahemah’s foot.
Ramiel moved between us. “I warned you.”
“Warned me?” She kicked Weston’s head away. “You are still in the Lunar Garden.”
“Not for much longer.”
“You don’t really think you’re leaving without a farewell party, do you?” She raised her voice. “Wyverns, drakes, wyrms!”
Ramiel whistled shrilly.
Nahemah’s dragons sprang forth with a roar from among the columns and the shadows of the garden. They advanced on us and the earth seemed to tremble in anticipation of the warm new blood that would soak it.
