for it, and demon-boy crashes backward into a tree. I’m close enough now for another arrow, so I shoot it directly into his heart and whip around to face the cabbie before the demon-boy can burst.
The cabbie-demon is ready for me. He tries to get me, clawing at my space and throwing his round body toward me, but I’m quicker and I trip him before he can move against me. I guess he should’ve possessed a better Non, maybe someone leaner who doesn’t spend all his time driving. While he’s down, I see another arrow across the grass so I make a run for it. He uses magic to knock me down again and the arrow zooms back to his feet. It’s the last one. There were only four arrows in my holder. He knows it too, because there’s this gross little smile on his Non’s face. Creepy.
Let’s play this another way.
I put my hands up in surrender, and move toward him. The demon-cabbie looks confused, but then he grabs the arrow and snaps it in half. I lower my hands, because that was not the plan. I needed that.
The demon-cabbie springs at me, and I fling myself away. He’s quicker this time, shedding his Non form and taking on his demonic one midair, like a snake. The discarded Non hits the ground with a sickening thud.
I have to get out of this. I’m almost done.
The broken arrow is on the ground a few feet away, teasingly close. Just because it’s broken doesn’t mean it’s useless: the rules didn’t say I had to use the weapons correctly, just that I had to use them. I pick up both ends of the arrow and the demon-cabbie stares at me, claws drawn and lip snarled. I stare back at him. It’s like a Wild West showdown. Which one of us will draw first?
Me.
I sprint toward the demon, throwing the piece of the arrow that has the feathers at him. He catches it in the air, only a foot away from me, and I smile. His crimson eyes narrow, examining the arrow, and his brows furrow when he realizes it’s the side with the feathers. I collide with the demon and drive the other half of the arrow into his chest. The half with the salted iron tip. I don’t bother letting go until his demon guts are all over me.
Everything turns white again and I’m standing in the middle of the training room. My clothes are normal again, but my brain is exhausted. I have no marks. No tears in my clothes. I still feel like I really was tossed around like a bouncy ball. I can’t believe all that was fake. Magic is awesome.
“See you tomorrow, Miss Grey,” a voice calls out through a speaker as the door opens.
Chapter Nine
I can’t leave until Ric is finished since we drove together, and he hasn’t texted me yet, so I wander to the library. Hyde the cat is sitting at the librarian’s desk again. When I come in, he arches his back and his fur stands on end before he runs off down the stacks. I guess he doesn’t like me very much. I walk around Poncho Alistair’s desk and the whole thing is covered in papers. It’s a mess compared to the rest of the neatly organized space.
I run my fingers over a book that’s open and I look down at the page. There’s a disturbing drawing on the page of a horned demon on the wheel of death thing. A man is holding a knife. The demon’s feet are on fire, and this spark is in the air, shifting between the man and the demon. Under the picture, the words “Ritual Restitution.” I stifle a gasp. That’s the one I plan to do as soon as I find my demon. There’s information here, in the library about it. The Triad really did hide it away. Why is it out in the open like this? It’s the same article I found years ago that outlined the materials needed for the Restitution, but that one didn’t have the picture. Seeing it all depicted there that way—a demon on a wheel of death, fire blooming, a man with a dagger aimed at the demon’s throat—it makes it look evil. If not evil, then dangerous.
Maybe I’m okay without my own magic.
For a second, it seems like a good idea. Much less dangerous. Much
The cabbie-demon is ready for me. He tries to get me, clawing at my space and throwing his round body toward me, but I’m quicker and I trip him before he can move against me. I guess he should’ve possessed a better Non, maybe someone leaner who doesn’t spend all his time driving. While he’s down, I see another arrow across the grass so I make a run for it. He uses magic to knock me down again and the arrow zooms back to his feet. It’s the last one. There were only four arrows in my holder. He knows it too, because there’s this gross little smile on his Non’s face. Creepy.
Let’s play this another way.
I put my hands up in surrender, and move toward him. The demon-cabbie looks confused, but then he grabs the arrow and snaps it in half. I lower my hands, because that was not the plan. I needed that.
The demon-cabbie springs at me, and I fling myself away. He’s quicker this time, shedding his Non form and taking on his demonic one midair, like a snake. The discarded Non hits the ground with a sickening thud.
I have to get out of this. I’m almost done.
The broken arrow is on the ground a few feet away, teasingly close. Just because it’s broken doesn’t mean it’s useless: the rules didn’t say I had to use the weapons correctly, just that I had to use them. I pick up both ends of the arrow and the demon-cabbie stares at me, claws drawn and lip snarled. I stare back at him. It’s like a Wild West showdown. Which one of us will draw first?
Me.
I sprint toward the demon, throwing the piece of the arrow that has the feathers at him. He catches it in the air, only a foot away from me, and I smile. His crimson eyes narrow, examining the arrow, and his brows furrow when he realizes it’s the side with the feathers. I collide with the demon and drive the other half of the arrow into his chest. The half with the salted iron tip. I don’t bother letting go until his demon guts are all over me.
Everything turns white again and I’m standing in the middle of the training room. My clothes are normal again, but my brain is exhausted. I have no marks. No tears in my clothes. I still feel like I really was tossed around like a bouncy ball. I can’t believe all that was fake. Magic is awesome.
“See you tomorrow, Miss Grey,” a voice calls out through a speaker as the door opens.
Chapter Nine
I can’t leave until Ric is finished since we drove together, and he hasn’t texted me yet, so I wander to the library. Hyde the cat is sitting at the librarian’s desk again. When I come in, he arches his back and his fur stands on end before he runs off down the stacks. I guess he doesn’t like me very much. I walk around Poncho Alistair’s desk and the whole thing is covered in papers. It’s a mess compared to the rest of the neatly organized space.
I run my fingers over a book that’s open and I look down at the page. There’s a disturbing drawing on the page of a horned demon on the wheel of death thing. A man is holding a knife. The demon’s feet are on fire, and this spark is in the air, shifting between the man and the demon. Under the picture, the words “Ritual Restitution.” I stifle a gasp. That’s the one I plan to do as soon as I find my demon. There’s information here, in the library about it. The Triad really did hide it away. Why is it out in the open like this? It’s the same article I found years ago that outlined the materials needed for the Restitution, but that one didn’t have the picture. Seeing it all depicted there that way—a demon on a wheel of death, fire blooming, a man with a dagger aimed at the demon’s throat—it makes it look evil. If not evil, then dangerous.
Maybe I’m okay without my own magic.
For a second, it seems like a good idea. Much less dangerous. Much
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