The knife rammed into his cheek, a miss. I kept going, blood slicking the sharp edges as I shoved it harder, deeper, trying to dig through his cheekbone.

Trove’s new claws ripped along my back, shredding leather, then skin and tissue. My whole body throbbed with pain, and the light-headedness that gripped me was either from using the last of my strength in my efforts to kill him or skull damage from Trove’s brutal attempts to free us from the piping web.

None of it mattered. All I focused on was his one, glaring red eye. I kept scissoring the knife into his head, but it was soon clear that I lacked the strength to drive it past the defense of his cheekbone.

Then Trove wrenched us out of the pipe labyrinth that had briefly trapped us. For a moment, we were airborne, Bones clinging to the back of the demon, me still on top of him with a knife jutting under the demon’s eye. As if in slow motion, I saw the basement floor draw nearer, and I was seized with an idea.

With a cry that was equal parts fury and frustration, I balanced the hilt of the knife against my chest and flung myself forward. We hit the ground in the next instant.

My weight plus the momentum from our three bodies plowing into the concrete accomplished what my lagging strength couldn’t. The bone blade drove home, sinking all the way through Trove’s eye. Blood spurted to coat my hands, and a new sharp pain was the hilt either cracking my sternum or puncturing it.

I refused to let go. Instead, I gave what I could feel of the blade a vicious shove, not stopping until it hit the back of Trove’s skull. Only when that tremendous form began to shrink, crumpling in on itself like a balloon slowly deflating, did my grip loosen on the bone knife. Finally, when nothing but a skeleton, a suit, and the scent of sulfur remained between me and Bones, I let go.

For a few, blissful seconds, I closed my eyes, every muscle in my body sagging with relief so profound, I thought I might have actually passed out. Then Bones’s familiar voice threaded through my exhaustion.

“Get off, luv, I’m high as a bloody kite. No telling what I’ll do.”

A breath of laughter escaped me. If Bones being high was our biggest danger, this had turned out to be the best day ever.

Thirty-six

Thirty-six

Shuffling noises drew my attention to the other side of the boiler room. Ian appeared, covered in dirt, blood, and far less clothes since what he had left had been ripped half-off. He was even missing clumps of his long auburn hair. I’d never seen him look worse—and I’d never been happier to see him.

“You did it,” I breathed.

He glanced at the remains of the demon between us.