“Not even a little bit.”

  “How the hell is she going to channel demon magic?” Deacon snarled, still trying to physically push his way through the barrier. “Without getting killed, I mean.”

  “Yeah, I’d rather not do that last thing. Again.”

  Deacon gave her a look and she shrugged. He hated the reminders that she’d died, and yet she kept bringing it up. If she survived, she’d have to talk to someone about that.

  “It’s not very different from channeling dragon magic and witch magic,” Angie said.

  “How would you know?”

  Angie sighed. “I don’t. I’m guessing. But it’s the best I’ve got right now.” She muttered something under her breath, made a quick, sharp gesture with her hands, and slammed them both against the invisible barrier between her and Cary.

  A flash of blue light again in Cary’s mind’s eye. Bright enough she winced at the glare.

  When she could see again, Angie was scowling at the barrier and cursing.

  “Yeah, can’t get through,” she said. She glanced behind Cary and lowered her voice. “Okay, here’s what you’re going to do. When the demon throws magic from the tip of that sword, it’s going to look like fire. Turn sideways so Marianne’s clothes can help scatter some of it. And you’re going to use your will to slow the fire down. The way Aidan showed you the last time you faced Lud.”

  “I can’t do that,” Cary squeaked. “I don’t have demon hunter will!” She couldn’t even will herself to resist cookie dough ice cream if she went down the ice cream isle in the grocery store.

  “You can. You’ve done it before, and you’re too stubborn for your own good. Use that stubbornness. That’s what you need. Refuse to let the fire reach you.”

  “I can’t.”

  Angie met her gaze, and there was a strange sort of energy in her eyes Cary had never noticed before, a brightening of the hazel green that almost felt like…power.

  “You can,” she said, her deep voice even deeper. “And when some of that fire gets through to you, I want you to flow it to center on your hand, the way you did with Rory’s fire, then roll it into a ball, bundle it up in the center of your palm.”

  Cary had told her about her last lesson with Rory in the car here. And Angie had tried to teach her a basic witch spell to use. Cary had managed to recreate the spell, in the confines and safety of the car, where she could concentrate. She still felt woefully unable for any of this when faced with a huge demon stalking toward her.

  “You can do this,” Angie said. She glanced back at the approaching demon. “Now!”

  Cary turned sideways automatically, and also automatically set herself between Deacon, Angie, and the rapidly approaching fire shooting out of the demon’s sword.

  One day, she’d stop doing that, she thought in the part of her mind that could watch all this without screaming hysterically. A very small, tiny part of her brain.

  She pulled on the stubbornness that kept insisting she get between people and danger, thought about that feeling she’d had with Aiden so many months ago, willed the fire to slow down. Willed it with a sheer fierce stubbornness she’d been relying on for years.

  She was more than a little surprised when it worked.

  Or, sort of worked. The fire slowed a little, moving more like a leisurely cruising car rather than a speeding train.

  But it still hit her with a blast of breath-stealing heat and strength like she’d just gotten mowed over by the cruising car. She stumbled a step even as the fire scatter around her, the spell Marianne had put into the jeans activating, sending the waves of heat leaping to either side of Cary.

  Some still got through. But unlike ordinary fire, this didn’t sear her skin or catch her clothes on fire. It rolled into her, soaked in with such intense heat she might as well have caught fire.

  She thought she screamed but it was hard to tell against the roar of the fire in her head. Knowing she should be hurt, that this should be killing her, it took her several moments to recognize that it wasn’t. That she was filling up with heat, and fire, that her cells were taking this in, but not igniting. She wasn’t alight.

  Demon fire wasn’t like dragon magic. There was no warm, soothing bath feeling here. There was scorching heat, sun so hot on her skin, she’d have a burn, but…

  Bearable.

  She could breathe.

  For some reason, being able to breathe surprised her.

  She heard Deacon shouting at her, but she couldn’t speak, couldn’t say anything over the sound of the fire rushing into her.

  Only some of it. Not all. Marianne was a genius.

  She also thought she heard Angie’s voice, telling her to use the fire, to control it. She might have heard Rory’s voice, too. Or that might have been a hallucination. At this point, she couldn’t tell.

  She did force her eyes open, force her brain to concentrate on the fire filling her up, pouring into her. When she focused, when she brought all her attention to the magic getting through, getting into her, it felt more and more like sun’s heat, a dry heat like a very hot day in the desert.

  It almost felt…good.

  She concentrated on that sense of good heat, the way a rush of heat might feel after being indoors with the air conditioner cranked up to arctic. The way that heat would feel so lovely and nice after being too cold.

  Holding that sense of contentment with the heat, she looked down at her palm and thought about rolling the heat into a ball in the center of her hand, using the visualizations Rory had taught her. Seeing the fire grow into a little mini sun. It was kind of cute, sitting there in her hand, dancing in red heat that no longer felt quite so overwhelming. Hot still, but also good. The heat felt really good now. A campfire warming her on a cold night. A super hot shower after coming in from a walk in the snow. That dry desert heat she hadn’t experienced since she was a teenager on a school field trip, but had loved.

  The little red sun in her palm grew, and grew, until it was the size of a soccer ball. She bounced it in the air once, like a ball, and then looked at the Lud-lookalike demon. It still had its sword pointing at her, but the fire had stopped pouring out of the tip of the sword and the demon was frowning at the weapon like something was wrong. When the giant being gave the sword a shake, the way someone might a remote control that had stopped working, Cary almost laughed.

  She bounced the ball of fire on her palm again. Wow, it didn’t just scatter or jump off. She felt it attached to her palm almost, like there was a thin string linking it to her, keeping it where she wanted. More controlled than she’d felt with the little flame on her fingertip she’d formed with Rory’s magic.

  Did that mean she was more comfortable with demon magic?

  That probably didn’t reflect well on her.

  She glanced back at the demon, looming large only a few yards away, just as it started toward them again. How did demons feel about having their magic thrown back at them?

  No time like the present to find out.

  Bouncing the soccer ball-sized sun on her palm one more time, she took a step back and, with all her might, threw the ball of fire at the demon.

  She was no athlete and had been a disaster at softball in grade school. So she was a little surprised by the distance she got on the throw. The little sun flew through the air, slamming the demon right in the stomach. She’d been aiming for its chest, but the stomach was close enough.

  At least she hadn’t missed all together.

  The demon roared and reared back from the hit, like the fire ball hurt. Like she’d managed to inflict damage.

  Wow. She never got to do offensive things. At least, not on purpose. But she’d just thrown some magic at a demon and the demon had to stop and yell about it.

  That was…good right?

  Maybe not. Since the demon shook itself hard and raised its sword overhead and screamed loud enough to make her eardrums pulse in painful protest.

  She forced herself to concentrate. There was still heat coursing through her body. She hadn’t used all the magic yet. She tried to call on the rest, focused on forming another ball of flame on her hand, but the demon approached so fast, she started to panic and threw a ball of much smaller flame this time.

  The hit knocked the demon back a step, made it howl again, but then it started toward them faster this time.

  Shit.

  “Step against the containment circle,” Angie shouted. “Try to soak up some of the magic in it.”

  “Can I do that?” Cary screeched, even as she stumbled back against the barrier.

  “Try,” Deacon said, his voice low. “I’ll stall.”

  “Wait, what? No!”

  But it was too late.

  He leapt forward, in his leopard form, and charged the demon.

  33

  Cary cursed and threw herself against the containment circle even as Deacon, in leopard form, dove beneath the demon’s sword.

  His effort to distract the monster worked. Lud-lookalike swiveled around to attack the racing leopard. Deacon moved so fast, he blurred into nothing more than a streak of black. Impossible for her to follow. Fortunately, he seemed impossible for the demon to follow too. The demon swung at that blur of motion, missed, roared, and swung its sword again, only to miss again.

  Thank the universe for shifter speed.

  She settled her back against the solid, invisible barrier of the containment circle, and the flare of blue light she’d seen in her mind’s eye when Angie had tried to break through flashed again, this time in a blinding halo that encompassed her entire body. She squinted against the light, and tried to focus on taking some of that light inside her.

  This time the feeling was like static, like little tiny shocks to her system. Not like any of the other individual magics she’d worked with. Still heat there. A demon had set the circle, after all. But not the burn. And not the warmth. Closer to something she felt with Angie’s magic. Electrical but not directly into her skin. Like lightning that struck a few feet away and the sizzle of that electricity coated her without actually touching her.

  “What do I do with this once I soak it up?” she asked Angie.

  She could feel the containment circle’s magic flowing into her faster now. Which was…maybe not good. She didn’t want to break the circle and release the Lud-lookalike onto the realm. Even if that did mean she could get out and the rest of her friends could get in. Although, there were also vampires and the triad out there somewhere. And another demon.

  Angie was quiet for a long moment, long enough, Cary glanced back at her.

  Her eyes were heavy lidded and half closed, though she still seemed to be looking at something right in front of her. After another silent moment, she said, “Move away. Now.”

  Cary jumped away from the circle. The blue flare she’d been haloed in, died instantly, making her blink against the sudden darkness.

  When she could see again, she glanced down at her hands. Nothing outwardly looked different. But she could see a faint faint glow of blue at the very periphery of her vision. If she tried to turn and look at the light directly, though, it faded.

  “Okay, what do I have to work with? And what has it done to me?”

  “Marianne’s clothes scattered some of it,” Angie said. “You picked up enough, though. You should be able to build a magic shield.”

  “Like my old shield.”

  “Except it won’t last as long. But it’s designed to work against demons. Listen.”

  Angie outlined the spell and the hand gestures in quick sentences, getting Cary to repeat each separately twice. They both watched Deacon spin the demon around in circles, avoiding the swing of the demon’s fire sword, but the process of having to focus on a spell, to get a spell right in order to help, was overwhelming Cary with impatience.

  “Focus,” Angie snapped.

  Cary startled back to her.

  “I know you’re scared for him,” Angie said, lowering her voice. “But you have to focus or the spell won’t work. The magic will spill out of you uselessly into a half-assed mess. Or worse, something will backfire, and you’ll both be hurt. Pay attention. Deacon has the demon for now.”

  There was a howl of pain and Cary’s heartbeat jumped into her throat. But when she turned to look, terrified she’d taken too long to help Deacon, she realized the howl came from the demon. Deacon had somehow carved a gaping wound in the black rock across the demon’s chest, revealing a rolling plane of lava beneath.

  Deacon hadn’t been able to do anything like that to the real Lud. Good confirmation this wasn’t the god. Also good, Deacon could hurt the demon.

  Bad that the demon looked even more pissed off now, though.

  “Focus,” Angie said again. “This kind of magic needs focus.”

  “Fine. Focus.” Focus, she told herself too. She had to get this right.

  From beyond the fight between Deacon and the demon, Holland stood with his head tilted to one side, watching the proceedings, a slight frown on his face. His serious expression didn’t give away his thoughts. But he didn’t look inclined to get involved either. That worried her. A lot.

  Focus, damn it. She brought her attention back to Angie, to repeating the phrases Angie was drilling into her. She got the hand gestures wrong the first few times, and without being able to touch her, Angie had a hell of a time correcting the gestures. But Cary got them on the fourth attempt and worked her fingers again and again until she could feel the gestures without having to think about them too closely.

  “Yes,” Angie said. “Now. Words and gestures together. They’ll build you a shield. A half shield. It’ll only cover the front of you. You’ll be able to block anyone from reaching Deacon if he’s behind you, but you’ll have to keep the shield between you and the demon. This isn’t like your Protector shield. Things can sneak up behind you.”

  “Shit,” she muttered. She missed her Protector shield. Offensive skills were nice. It was brilliant to not feel helpless. But she really preferred just being impenetrable. “Okay, once the shield is up, then what? It won’t last indefinitely.”

  She leaned back into the circle a moment more, soaking in a little more magic to use for her shield.

  “Push the demon toward the opening it walked through. Force it back into its realm.”

  “Holland won’t just let me do that.” Although, the way he was staying out of all this, maybe he would. This felt like a part of his test.

  She hated tests.

  But she hated demons running around her realm even more. Especially when they were chasing after her mate.

  “You have to try it,” Angie said. “Add some of your will to it.”

  “You keep thinking I have more willpower than I do.”

  “Aidan said you’d make a good demon hunter with some training. You have the will. You’ve just never trained it.”

  “Aidan lied,” Cary said. Aidan was a legendary demon hunter. But she was not right about Cary’s will. Cary was certain of that.

  Angie snorted. “She wouldn’t lie about this. You can do this, Cary. Let’s go.”

  “I should have learned this stuff before the big epic showdown, huh?”

  “We ran out of time. And didn’t expect to lose your Protector shield.”

  “There is that.” She pulled in a deep breath and waited for an opening.

  Deacon threw himself over the top of the demon, forcing the creature to turn in an awkward arc as it swung at him with its hands now, reaching for the blur of black rather than trying to slice with its sword.

  Was that good or bad? She had no idea, but she did get her opening.

  She rushed forward, muttering the spell Angie had taught her, at the same time as she wove her fingers together in the very specific pattern. She stumbled on a rock in the grass, but maintained the finger positions so she didn’t screw up the spell. She did pause in the middle of her recitation for an instant and had to hope she hadn’t screwed things up because by then she was between the demon and Deacon.

  With a final outward flip of her fingers, she raised her hands in front of her and said the final word of the spell. A blue light erupted in front of her, arching over her like an actual, ginormous shield, a half dome of light between her and the demon. When the demon dropped its sword onto the blue light, she winced and half closed her eyes.

  But the shield held.

  Her knees wobbled with her relief.

  “Handy,” Deacon said from behind her, back in his human form.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No.” A pause. Then. “It healed when I shifted.”

  She let out an annoyed grunt, but couldn’t really get mad at him for getting hurt since she only just got back from the hospital for getting shot. She’d be a bit of a hypocrite if she did get mad at him. Still, she wasn’t happy he’d gotten hurt stalling a demon so she could learn a shield spell.

  The demon tried to force its sword down through her shield. She could feel the effort, feel the push of its strength in her shoulders, like she was holding a physical shield against the demon. But the blue light held.

  “Now what?” Deacon asked.

  “Push it toward the tear in reality. Before the magic wears out.”

  She felt strong still, like she had enough to hold this shield. But in the back of her mind, she was very aware that ever moment that passed as she used this magic, the magic was draining away from her.

  She shoved forward. To her relief, the demon dropped back a step. This wasn’t so different from using her Protector shield. Except she had to keep her hands up, physically positioning the shield like it was an actual physical thing and not just this movable barrier that circled her.

  She shoved again, hoping her shoulder strength would hold out, and suddenly very grateful for all the training she’d been doing with Lucy. She might have ended up on her ass a lot, but she was in better shape now.

  The demon pushed back, swinging its sword around again to slam it down on top of her shield. She winced, grunting as she stopped to brace.

  Deacon took hold of her shoulders, adding his strength to the effort. When the demon lifted his sword, Cary shoved forward again, suddenly and as fast as she could move. Which, with Deacon’s strength helping her push, was faster and harder than she’d anticipated.

 

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