Chapters (50)
- Cover
- Roc Books by Jacqueline Carey
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Forty-three
- Forty-four
- Forty-five
- Forty-six
- Forty-seven
- Forty-eight
“Or what?” It was the same response she’d give me before, this time dripping with contempt. Any trace of uncertainty in her eyes had vanished. They were hard, hard as the granite headstones around us. Her voice dropped to a lower register, laden with power as she uttered a word. Don’t ask me what word, but it was in a language that sounded like it dated back to the dawn of time, and every syllable of it tolled like a bell. “You don’t dare lay a hand on me, child.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but the word she’d spoken seemed to have lodged itself in my throat like a stone. I couldn’t talk. In fact, beyond opening my mouth, I couldn’t move. I wasn’t entirely sure I could breathe. Letitia Palmer’s eyes glittered in the headlights. Maybe I was human enough that her ward didn’t protect her from me, but I was also human enough to be vulnerable to her magic. The Seal of Solomon charm that Casimir had given me felt hot against my breastbone. Apparently it wasn’t doing shit.
I got angry. I mean, really angry. It was the kind of rich, molten fury I almost never let myself indulge in. I let it fill me until the pressure hurt my ears and the sap began to crackle in the nearest pine trees.
It felt like something physically breaking when her hold on me cracked, like the stone stuck in my throat had shattered.
I tried an experimental cough. Yep, that worked. I went back to Plan A and closed the distance between us, but this time, instead of grabbing for the jar, I reached across the headstone and grabbed the cowry shell strung around her neck, yanking the chain taut. I could feel a vibration of power against my palm, but the ward didn’t repel me.
“Here’s or what,” I said to Letitia Palmer, our faces inches apart above the headstone that separated us. “You will swear on the bones of your ancestors to leave immediately and never return, or I’ll jerk this thing clean off your neck and turn the tall ghoul with the large sword loose on you. And that goes for your daughter, too.”
There was a sheen of sweat on her brow, but she didn’t back down an inch. “You don’t have it in you.”