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Wait, Bleu—

A hot, rancid puff of air hit her in the back. Evelyn gripped her staff with both hands, casting out a force field as she whirled back to the other Bleu.

A pristine, gray horse no longer stood in the water. Milky white eyes stared from the skull of a horse. Molars and razor teeth overlapped outside its jaw. Flesh and muscle hung from the black bones of a kelpie.

A dangerous trickster of a demon.

It neighed, a sound laced with a deafening screech that rippled across the lake.

Goddess, Evelyn was out of practice to be so easily fooled by a kelpie’s oldest trick, transforming into an animal its victim knew. Evelyn conjured her flame, annoyed with herself that she’d missed the signs. Her magic had been warning her, and she hadn’t listened.

She tapped into her frustration and lit her staff aflame. The kelpie cried again, charging at her. Before Evelyn could cast fire, Cyrus knocked the kelpie off course with Bleu. He unsheathed his sword, the iron crying out against its scabbard.

More screeches tremored through the lake, the fog thickening as the darkness surrounded the demon. Cyrus dismounted Bleu in one effortless move. From a sturdy stance, he raised his sword high. Strength vibrated off him like magic.

The kelpie charged Cyrus, but Evelyn cast a ball of fire to counter the attack. Flame met its shoulder, sizzling over rotting flesh. The kelpie rose on its hind legs and let out a cry that ricocheted off the lake and echoed from the mountains.

Unfamiliar confidence soared through Evelyn. She sent another barreling ball of fire at the kelpie. It made contact, but the enraged demon refocused on Evelyn. Cyrus swiped his sword at its hind legs, which buckled as it screeched in pain.

The water approached in aggressive waves, like an unseen beast beneath the surface unleashing its wrath. It knocked Cyrus back and dragged him under the lake’s surface. Evelyn screamed, her magic bursting from her fingertips as Cyrus’s hair peeked out of the water.

She pushed farther into the lake, sending a wave of flame toward the kelpie as she reached Cyrus. She gripped his shirt and yanked him up, pushing away the dark magic festering in the depths. Cyrus gasped. His eyes searched for her, wild and wide. They locked gazes, distracting her.

The kelpie clamped its teeth into her shoulder. It pulled her from Cyrus, and she lost her grip on her staff as pain shot down her arm. Cold, relentless currents washed over her. Her magic screamed.

Cyrus stood and slashed the kelpie through the throat. The demon crumpled into water, morphing into the lake. The darkness dove with it.

Evelyn scrambled toward the shore with Cyrus, but the magic in the water rooted her in place like quicksand as it swirled and tightened. Fear and pain battled in Evelyn. She tried to conjure her flame but couldn’t.

Her fingers were stiff. Her bones turned cold. Her entire body was soaked.

The ancient dark magic, oily and slick against hers, embedded itself into her skin. It seized hold of her ankles and pulled her under.

Heaving, she pushed forward and screamed, “Cyrus!”

The lake yanked her back, the jagged stones scraping against her palms. Her next cry for help came out gargled, water rushing into her lungs. She couldn’t see, couldn’t breath—

Evelyn gasped as she was pulled to the surface. Cyrus held both her hands, holding her firm against the pulling current. His golden eyes glowed with resolve. I got you, they seemed to say. The water climbed higher up her legs, constricting.

Evelyn grimaced. Pain overtook her.

But a new, stickier essence weaved its way into the dark magic around them.

Death.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Evelyn

Cyrus kept a firm grip on Evelyn’s hands, pulling her toward the shore. Bleu held on to Cyrus by the cuff of his trousers, starting a tug-of-war between them and the lake.

“You have to use your magic!” he said.

Evelyn shook her head. Words turned to ash on her tongue, and she said nothing. She couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t admit she was a damn fool for not noticing the signs of the kelpie. She couldn’t admit she’d lost her flame or that she couldn’t reach it now. Yet again, doubt consumed her, overriding her senses. Her mind flashed to the day on the riverbend, the vampyrs killing her parents. Her vision funneled into the small tight space her tutor locked her in as a child. Her failure. Her torment. She wasn’t capable of winning this fight without her flame, but the huntsman didn’t need to suffer.

“Cyrus,” she said. Her voice broke as his eyes roamed over her face. “You have to let me go.”

“No!” He roared it across the lake, tightening his grip on her hands and pulling her farther up shore.