I leapt for him.
He looked up at the last moment, his eyes widening. He twisted and Lefty sank into his meaty shoulder. With a roar, he threw me off him. I skidded across the floor, then groped my way behind the top of the fallen column. He was strong, both in magic and form, and his magic smelled ancient. Like dust. I’d bet he was an old demon.
“Blades?” he yelled. “You come at me with blades? Use your magic and give me a real fight!”
“What? You bored? Been guarding this tomb a long time, eh?” I said as I flung Righty at him.
It sank into his chest, nearly a perfect shot at his heart. Or at least, where I figured a shadow demon’s heart might be.
He yanked it out and said, “You have no idea.”
I swallowed hard.
Missed his heart, I guess.
Quickly, before he could fling the dagger, I called it back to me. Righty pulled itself out of the demon’s hand and flew home.
The demon didn’t startle, nor did he look weakened by the dark blood leaking from the wound in his chest. Old and strong, like I’d thought. Even if I hadn’t hit his heart, he should at least be incapacitated. But this one was different. He wasn’t even winded from the blade that had sunk six inches into his chest.
“Well? Won’t you give me a real fight? You are one of the three. Strong enough to fight, but you don’t.”
My heart tried to climb into my throat. “What does that mean?”
The three? Did he mean me and my deirfiúr? How could he know about Del and Nix?
“What do you mean?” I screamed when he didn’t answer quickly enough.
“You don’t use your powers.” He threw another blast of magic at me. Blazing smoke blasted away my column barricade, and I scrambled back.
He wouldn’t use his powers either if it meant getting locked up in the Prison for Magical Miscreants. As long as I didn’t use them, I could pretend that I was nothing but a low-strength Mirror Mage and have a lovely life where no one tossed me in prison.
The shadow demon threw another blast of fiery smoke. It plowed into the ground in front of me. The stone floor exploded. The blast threw me backwards. Pain streaked through me. My entire front felt singed, pierced by small pieces of shattered stone. A cough tore through my lungs and I blinked blindly, my throat and eyes burning.
I could barely see, and he kept throwing those damned blasts of smoke at me, driving me ever backward. I just had to get him to lay off for a sec. Then I could question him.
Through the dust, I could make out his hulking form approaching. It was risky, but I threw each of my blades in quick succession, hoping to incapacitate but not kill.
The thud of a body collapsing sounded. The blasts of power stopped coming.
I climbed to my feet and limped toward the form sprawled on the ground. The stone bit into my knees when I dropped beside him. My blades protruded from his chest, one embedded in each pectoral. His breath strangled in and out of his lungs, but he wasn’t dead. I grasped his rough shirt and shook him.
“What do you know about me?” I said.
“What”—he coughed—“you are.”
“But—”
His lips parted, and I snapped my mouth shut, frantic to hear what he had to say.
“FireSoul.”
I stumbled back, my stomach twisting. Chills raced over me. How could he know that? No one knew that but my deirfiúr.
“I’m a Mirror Mage.” My voice came out hardly louder than a whisper. I tried again, louder, fear choking my throat. “I’m a Mirror Mage!”
Panic welled in me, and I crawled back to him, reaching for his shirt again, desperate to shake answers from him.
His eyes were dimming, their gleaming black light turning a dark gray. A great breath shuddered out of his lungs, followed by stillness.
The light faded from his eyes, and his body disappeared. My blades, no longer embedded in a chest, clattered to the floor.
“No!”
My heart threatened to break my ribs. I hit the ground, frustration and fear beating in my chest.
The demon was gone. Not dead—you couldn’t really kill a demon—just send them back to whatever hell they’d originally come from. Normally very neat and tidy. Except this one had information about me, and my blades had been too accurate. The demon had seemed so strong when my first blade had found its mark. I’d wanted to question him more. This was what happened when I freaked out. Like a bull in a china shop. And it was the main reason I could never use my magic.
My breath echoed too loudly in my ears. Think, think. How could the demon have known that I was a FireSoul? Was it because this job was in Ireland, my homeland? At least, what I assumed was my homeland, given that I could speak Irish and had red hair.
One option was so terrifying I couldn’t even poke it with my mind. It was the bogeyman that lurked at the corner of my memories. Whenever I pressed too hard, it leapt up, bringing with it a splitting headache and adrenaline like nobody would believe.