As Maran pushed forward again and raised the gleaming black sword, the Eye pulsed, and suddenly there was weight in my free hand. I didn’t stop to wonder how or why; I simply released the Eye, flipped one of the knives to my left hand, and then raised them high, crossing the blades as the sword descended. Metal clashed, and my arms gave way just a little under the force of her blow. I gritted my teeth, pushed the sword to one side, and then lunged forward, past her reach, into her body. The shadowy fingers pulled taut but not enough to stop me. Maran shifted her grip on the sword, obviously intent on thrusting it through my torso. I flung my arms either side of her and then called to the force of the storm and channeled it through the knives, then drew them in.

They cut through flesh, muscle, and bone as easily as water and cleaved Maran in two.

As her body crumpled and fell in different directions, I slashed at the fingers holding me captive. They shriveled away from the knives’ touch and retreated to the safety of the open chest. I caught the wind, ripped the sword from Maran’s grip, and threw it back into the chest. Then I slammed the lid back on top of it.

Which left me with the Annwfyn.

I sucked in a breath, drew on the last vestiges of my strength, and once again called on the power of the storm. I cast it at the Annwfyn, sweeping them up and throwing them far, far out to sea.

And hoped the bastards couldn’t swim.

Every inch of me was trembling with exhaustion, but I couldn’t give into it. I might have gotten rid of the Annwfyn from this cave, but the dark gate remained out there in the shadows, and I had no idea how much time it might take for another wave of the monsters to appear.

But at least for now, this cave was empty, and I was safe. And, even better, alive.

Claws scraped across stone. I tensed and clenched my fingers around the wind, but the sound was too soft to be Annwfyn. A furry figure bleeding from a dozen different wounds appeared out of the gloom and limped toward me.

A rat.

Frances.

I half snorted. “Trust a fucking rat to survive Annwfyn armageddon.”

She shifted shape and sat down on the stone several feet away from me. “This fucking rat was damned lucky they were more intent on reaching the sword than killing everything that moved.” She sniffed. “What happens now?”

“We wait for the cavalry, and then you go to jail.”

She cocked a bloody eyebrow at me. “You haven’t got your phone, so how did you call anyone?”

I smiled and raised the knives. “I didn’t have these before, either.”

She looked at the knives, then back at me. “I think everyone has been underestimating you.”

“Common problem with elves. Tell me, is Seryn the head of the Looisearch? Was Maran? Or is there someone else above them both?”