He swiped the blood trickling down his arm and sneered. “And what makes you so superior? A congenial smile?”
I withdrew the sword from the wall and sliced the air between us. “Nope. But I’m really awesome at playing pi?ata. Never tried it with a sword.”
He crawled backward on his elbows until he reached the far wall. Darius lifted the tufted chair, using it as a shield.
“Are you kidding me?” I shouted.
It wasn’t a large room—maybe twelve feet one way and twenty the other. Acting on impulse, I swung the sword and struck the lampshade. The bulb shattered, throwing us into darkness.
I held my breath, moving aside as I waited for my eyes to adjust. With my Mage light concealed, the only way he’d know my location was by sound.
Grainy images slowly came into focus. Darius held the chair, his arms trembling from the weight of it.
He suddenly tossed the chair at me and I dodged it with ease. Darius squatted on the floor, his eyes drawn upward and head cocked to the side. I squeezed the grip of the sword, angling the blade over my left shoulder.
My heart skipped a beat when the door cracked open, and we both turned to look. Before I could see who was coming in, Darius charged at the door, slamming it partially shut as someone roared in pain. A penlight toppled onto the floor, spraying a narrow stream of light across the room in a cartwheel of motion.
“Son of a ghost!”
The door surged open, and Wyatt stumbled into the room. Darius threw a burst of energy into him, and Wyatt’s feet came off the ground as he absorbed what could have been a thousand-volt shock of electricity.
I ran forward and swung my sword, but Darius ducked out of the way. It sliced against the open door, wedging deep into the wood. I tugged, but I couldn’t dislodge it fast enough.
Darius exploded into action, charging toward me and slamming his hand into my chest before I could free the sword. He was testing to see if Mage energy affected me.
My feet came off the ground, and I hurtled backward in the short space until my back hit the wall with a sickening thud. I toppled over to the floor, clutching my chest and wheezing for breath. The energy blast hadn’t put a dent in me, but he’d hit me rather hard with his palms.
Darius pivoted around, gripped the sword, and wrenched it out of the wood. My eyes widened when the flashlight glinted on the metal as it sliced through the air. I rolled across the floor, the tip of his sword nicking my arm, right below the gunshot wound.
I surged to my feet and flashed around him, going for the metal penlight on the floor. The beam of light spun about the room as I raised my arm and drove it into his back with all the force I could muster. One might believe a penlight could never penetrate skin, but that would be a misconception.
Darius roared in pain.
He flung his sword backward and let go. I turned to watch the tip of it stab the floor right between Wyatt’s legs, just inches from his…
Wyatt shrieked, holding his crotch as the sword bowed back and forth. “I don’t get paid enough for this shit. You hear that, Viktor?” he shouted. “I want a raise!”
Darius fell to his knees, desperately trying to grasp for the light, which was centered out of his reach.
I sauntered over to Wyatt and pulled the sword out from the wood. As I approached Darius, I smirked when a thought crossed my mind. “I guess the pen really is mightier than the sword.” With my fingers around the grip of my blade, I circled him, aiming for his neck. “Can’t win ’em all.”
He was still reeling from the pain in his back—the light beaming onto Wyatt’s face and climbing up the wall as Darius hunched over, trying to reach for it. “I’ll give you money.”
“If I wanted your money, I wouldn’t have brought backup. Don’t you think?”
I’d never done this before—beheaded a man. I knew immortals saw it as a necessary means to an end, but the image was strikingly gruesome. I leveled the blade across his neck and drew back like a batter about to hit a home run.
“Wait! Raven, wait,” Wyatt sputtered, still struggling from his injuries. “We have evidence.”
I glanced over my shoulder. “So?”
Shepherd filled the doorway, a file in one hand and a slim cord in the other. “You don’t have to kill him. We’ve got everything we need to take this son of a bitch down.”
Seeing the relief on Darius’s face filled me with inexplicable rage.
Shepherd stepped forward and shouted, “Don’t do it!”
I’d positioned the blade against Darius’s neck, power surging through me.
Wyatt tried to stand but fell over. He gripped Shepherd’s ankle. “Get me out of here. I can’t be around to watch this.”
I stared at Darius long and hard, contemplating in those seconds which choice was the right one. When I thought about sending him to Breed jail so they could execute him for his offenses, an unexpected feeling of satisfaction swept over me. A quick death seemed far too merciful compared to the humiliation of jail, court, and then facing his peers as a broken man.