“Maybe I’ll throw dad in for good measure,” she said. Her pouty lips were painted dark plum today, but her punk-rock goddess chic no longer worked on me, not now that I knew what she was.
I took a step toward her, Hellseeker leveled at her heart.
“I thought you only killed supernaturals,” she pointed out. “I’m human, Raven. You wouldn’t hurt me, would you?”
“You’re a practitioner of the dark arts,” I said.
“Is that how you justify murdering me in cold blood?”
“Just drop the knife.”
“What if I don’t?” Her features lost their playfulness, growing defiant. “We don’t have to be enemies. Walk away, Raven. Go back to hunting your werewolves and mummies and whatever. This isn’t your problem.”
“That knife belongs to me. And you’re using it to kill people. Therefore, it is my problem. Plus I’m still a little upset about the time you knocked me out and then marked me with your blood.”
“You can handle yourself, Raven. The hellhounds will figure it out soon enough and back off.”
“You lied to me.”
Her lips stretched into a tight line. “I had no choice. Time’s running out for me. I need to be ready for when the bargaining begins in earnest.”
“Good luck with that,” I said, revolted by how cold and calm she could be about all of this.
“The Horne boys were born with a silver spoon in their mouths. Always taking without giving back anything. I won’t spent an eternity burning in Hell so a bunch of spoilt brats can live out their privileged lives while their stock portfolios grow.” She took a step closer, a fiery intensity in her voice, “I never asked for this, Raven. Any of it.”
“I don’t care what you asked for. You’re a murderer, and I’m not letting you walk away from it. Robert and Gabriel had nothing to do with the deal your father made.”
“Are you sure? Don’t you think they knew what was going on, that their perfect lives were built on the pain and misery of countless innocent people? Look around! Robert’s art speaks for itself, doesn’t it? I think he will feel right at home in Hell.”
The mad logic of her words affected me. On some level, I understood her need for vengeance. That’s what fueled my own decision to keep the world safe from paranormal threats. Yet there existed a critical difference between Celeste and me. I was trying to avenge the murder of my parents by hunting monsters while Celeste had become one herself, seeking revenge by slaughtering innocents. If anything, her rage should have been directed against the man who’d betrayed her in the first place.
“I’m sorry about what happened to you. Together, we could’ve found the way to—”
“Ever the knight in shining armor. Sorry, Raven, I’m too old to believe in fairy tales. Nowadays I make my own luck and work my own magic.”
Magic has already blackened your soul, I thought wearily.
Celeste placed her palms together, and her eyes narrowed into slits as her lips mouthed silent words. She was casting a spell. My protective ring grew hot to the touch, sensing that a new attack was imminent. My finger hovered over the trigger, but a voice inside stopped me from shooting Celeste before she could complete the spell. She was right about the code by which I lived my life. I had no qualms putting an end to demons, but Celeste was human.
I couldn’t shoot her. But I couldn’t let her go, either.
I holstered Hellseeker and sprinted toward Celeste. Her lips moved faster, driven by a greater urgency to complete her magic. I threw myself on top of her, and she brought up the Soul Dagger. I’d anticipated the move and grabbed her wrist as we both crumpled to the floor. The knife sailed through the air. She tried to push me off her, but my weight kept her pinned to the ground. Her eyes flashed with fury, and she spat into my face.
Why can’t I ever meet any nice girls?
Before I could respond, I sensed a large figure approaching with swift strides behind me and spun toward my phantom attacker. Too late! A supernatural force snatched me and unceremoniously lifted me into the air. I dangled about ten feet above Celeste, airborne and helpless, her laughter echoing in my ears. Without warning, the force released me, and I went flying. I clenched my jaw as I crash-landed, knocking over one of Robert’s monstrous statues in the process.
The sculpture shattered on impact. Pain shot through my back but shock masked most of it. Between the Blackmore Witch and this latest craziness, my body was taking one hell of a beating. By tomorrow I would be covered in nasty bruises—if there was going to be a tomorrow.