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Purple was the color of undeath. If the creature was indeed undead somehow, she had no consciousness. Someone had to control her, the way Masters of the Dead controlled the vampires.
“Julie, you have to come out. I can’t protect you if you’re here hugging the toilet. Get up.”
“She’ll get in. She’ll kill me. I don’t want to die.”
“You will die if you stay here.” I held out my hand. “Come on.”
She sobbed.
“Come on, Julie! Show that bitch you have some backbone.”
She bit her lip and took my hand. I pulled her up.
“I’m scared.”
“Use it. It will keep you sharp. In the Honeycomb, why didn’t the magic grab you?”
It took her a second to shift gears. “I blended. I made it think I was the same as it was.”
“Blend with me, then.” Mimicking a different type of magic would camouflage Julie’s mind, forcing the creature to concentrate on the magic object instead. Like hiding a weak light in the flare of a strong one.
That thing couldn’t target her mind if it couldn’t sense it.
She shook her head. “I can’t. I’ve tried already. Your magic’s too strange.”
Shit. Another side effect of my screwed-up heritage. It wasn’t enough that I had to burn my bloody bandages so nobody could identify me, but now I couldn’t even shield a little kid. What did I have that she could blend with? There were a half dozen enchanted artifacts in Greg’s collection but nothing that exuded enough magic to hide her.
Slayer.
“Stay here.”
I dashed to the kitchen, swiped Slayer off the table, and sprinted back to the bathroom. Julie’s face had gone blank. I thrust Slayer into her hands and barked, “Blend!”
Awareness snapped back into her eyes. I felt the magic creep to the blade. Julie’s breath came out in ragged gasps.
A barely perceptible change took place within the magic field. She took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said. “Okay.”
The creature screeched in frustration.
I hugged Julie to me. Physical danger I could deal with, but having Julie turned into a zombie would’ve screwed things up beyond repair. As long as we could keep that bitch out of my kid’s head, we had a chance. She clamped the sword with both hands, face pinched, concentrating on the blade.