She was trying to kill me nature by nature—a common cure. I'd tried it myself with Jimmy, hadn't managed it yet. But killing a vampire/dhampir/skinwalker was going to be a very neat trick. Not that she couldn't do it if I kept letting her try. Sooner or later the woman of smoke was going to hit on something that did kill a vampire, and then she'd ease on down the road to the next nature. I had to take away her magic, and thanks to Whitelaw I knew how.
"I hate to keep calling you psycho hell bitch," I said. "Though it does fit."
She flicked her wrist and a gun appeared. Before she could point it in my direction, I smacked the weapon out of her hand, and it slid across the dirt with a metallic ping-ping-ping. When she predictably went for my throat, I snatched those hands in mine and murmured, "What is your name?"
It was an old trick but a good one. She didn't have time to block me, to think of something else, to even figure out what I was doing. I touched her just as she thought, Lilith.
"Lilith?" I let her momentum carry her past me, and when I released her she sprawled in the dirt. "Not the Lilith?"
The woman of smoke flipped onto her back.
"You can't be that Lilith."
Her eyes widened as she realized what I meant to do. Her arm began to rise, no doubt to throw some other deadly magic my way, but I finished the spell with a final, "Lilith."
She screamed, but instead of sound a cloud of black sparkly dust rose from her mouth, swirling away on the wind and disappearing into the night.
"Aw. I think that was your magic. Bummer," I said, and decked her.
I had vampire strength; she flew about ten feet, scrambled to get up, and I hit her again.
She'd had the advantage as an evil witch, but without the witch, she was just evil.
That made two of us.
She landed on the far side of the gun, which lay about halfway between us. With my vampire speed I snatched the thing before she could slither in its direction, then pressed the muzzle to her temple.
The woman of smoke froze; her burning black eyes rolled up to mine, and she sneered. "Go ahead."
My finger twitched. The idea of blowing her brains to kingdom come was so damn appealing, but something stopped me. Probably the smirk lurking beneath her sneer.
"You'll just heal," I murmured, and tossed the gun far, far away.
The smirk bloomed. "I can heal anything."
"Heal this," I said, and pulled a Jimmy—tore her apart like the wishbone on a chicken.
I could never have done it if I'd remained human. Not only the lack of strength but the yuck factor. However, in my present state, I found the spray of blood exquisite.
The temptation to let it wash over me, feel the heat and the life and the energy against my skin, was nearly overwhelming. I probably would have done it, except the body stood up and reached for me.
"Oh, come on!" I stumbled back, and what was left of the woman of smoke followed.
"Give me my head."
I glanced down. I still held the skull in one hand, and it was talking. My life was a Tim Burton movie.
The body kept coming; the hands weren't reaching for me but for the severed head. Once retrieved, would they then set it back on the gushing neck, and would the wound heal?
"How do I end her?" I muttered, my mind grasping for every detail I'd heard, everything that I'd learned.
She no longer possessed any magic; all she had left was the spirit of evil. There'd been something, somewhere about evil.
The truth hit me like a spotlight. The memory of what I'd seen in Sawyer's dream when I'd walked there—words the shade of fresh blood splayed across the pristine white ceiling.
"Toss evil to the four winds," I whispered.
"No!" shrieked the woman of smoke.
Which made tossing seem like a helluva good idea.
I threw the still screaming head to the north with all of my strength, then finished the job by sending the arms to the east, the legs to the west, and the rest down south.
Welcome silence settled over the mountain, but it didn't last. At first I thought she was coming back, because the shrieking that had faded to nothing as the woman of smoke was carried away on the four winds got louder and louder until it surrounded me. An ocean of sound blaring in my too sensitive ears, driving me to the ground with my hands pressed to my head.
Even though my eyes were closed, I felt the light-dark, light-dark flickers across my face and forced myself to look at the moon.
Ghostly shadows pranced across the surface too quickly for me to determine what they were.
'That can't be good," I murmured, even as something inside of me rejoiced and whispered: They are free.
CHAPTER 34
The sun shining across my face woke me. Or maybe it was the sensation of being watched. Because I opened my eyes to discover myself surrounded.
I snarled and did a backflip, landing in a crouch. A growl rumbled low in my throat. All that goodness made my head ache.
In the bright light of morning, the colors of the world seemed epic. The jewels on the collar in Sawyer's hand nearly blinded me.
"What's wrong with her?"
The kid—Luther, I remembered—appeared horrified. I lifted my top lip and gave him a good view of my fangs, then found myself distracted by the throbbing vein in his neck. I could hear every one of their hearts beating; the swish of blood through their veins was a seductive whisper. I took a step forward and Jimmy blocked my way.