She blinked. Why wasn’t he fighting her, trying to kill her then? “What does that mean?”

“You have the right combination I need for my spell. You are perfect in your magickcal balances and fit the puzzle I am trying to piece together.”

“You mean you want to chop me up and stir me into your magickal stew?”

Boyle thought about that for a moment. “Yes.”

“You know what, Boyle? Fuck you.”

She lunged to the right and caught up the sword. By the time she’d unsheathed it, he was on her.

He grabbed her around the throat and squeezed. Isabelle felt her eyes bulge and her larynx begin to crush. He lifted her and the sword dangled impotently at her side. The handle of the letter opener still embedded in him poked her chest.

Even though it was a violent action and it made panic race through her veins like drinking ice water on a hot summer’s day, the demon was being gentle with her. He could crush her throat as easily as she could break an egg in her fist. He wasn’t killing her because he needed her alive for some reason…at least for now.

Isabelle brought her knee up hard and fast, right between his legs. The demon yowled and dropped her. Isabelle crashed to the floor and landed on her ass, still holding tight to the sword and gasping for air. Well, that was one part of the demon’s anatomy he had in common with a human.

When she could, she looked up to see Boyle doubled over. She took the opportunity to bolt to her feet and swing the sword at him. With lightning fast reflexes, he blocked her stroke and grabbed the blade with his bare hand.

He pushed it away and she yanked it from him, demon blood dripping from his palm and sizzling to the floor where the sword had bit into flesh.

Isabelle went into a half-crouching position and circled him, waiting for a better opportunity.

He opened his hand and showed the cut made by the copper sword. It wasn’t smoking, not peeling away. Nothing. Why hadn’t it worked? Why wasn’t he screaming and writhing in agony like he had before?

“I can see the questions on your face, little witch. You’re wondering why the copper isn’t making me sick. I have treated myself since we last met. I’ve given myself allergy shots, so to speak. Such a superficial exposure to copper will not harm me now, though the swords are clever.”

Then she’d have to make sure the exposure wasn’t superficial then. “Whatever. Swords still maim. They’re still capable of hacking off limbs. I guess you can’t grow limbs back, right? No allergy shot for that.” She feinted to the left, then turned and brought the blade down toward him.