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“It’s been at least forty years since you last saw me, Mkalkee. Lots of things of changed since then.” I eyed the dark hallway warily. There’d once been sensor lights down there, so either the batteries were dead or he’d turned them off.

He didn’t reply to my comment, and the silence crawled across my nerves. Which was no doubt his intention. He’d always liked delaying the moment to drive up tension and expectation.

I flexed my fingers against the knife hilts. “Why are you and Halak intent on destroying Eadevane Holdings? What did they do to you?”

Again, the silence stretched. I wanted to retreat, to step back and even run, but held firm. He couldn’t hurt me magically. I believed that if nothing else.

“Where did you first learn of the rubies, Mkalkee? Did Gilda steal the information from Afran? Or did she steal the ruby she’d hidden in her home from him?” A deepening sense of danger itched at my skin. I wasn't sure if it was a result of his continuing silence or intuition trying to warn me. “Did he kill her in revenge for that theft?”

Still no reply.

Was he waiting for me to step closer? To go into the confined space of the hall, where he’d gain an even bigger advantage than his size and reach already gave him?

Or was he simply waiting for Halak? The pair of them had always liked playing in unison... I shivered and did my best to ignore the fragmented bits of memory that rose.

“Why destroy Eadevane’s headquarters, then? The people working there had nothing to do with your father’s death,” I tried. “You were always a cruel man, Mkalkee, but you had certain lines you would not cross, and taking innocent lives?—”

I cut the rest off as the knives flared to life again. A heartbeat later, the ground under my feet shifted ever so slightly. He wasn’t spelling—he was using the Myrkálfar ability to manipulate earth and create gods knows what.

I swore, bent, and drove one knife deep into the hard ground. The blade burned brighter, and the shifting stopped. The knives might not be able to sense Myrkálfar magic but they sure as hell could stop it—at least when it was being manipulated with intent against me.

That was good to know.

Mkalkee cursed softly. Angrily.

Anger was good, if dangerous. An angry Mkalkee would react instinctively rather than think and plot.

“Your magic no longer affects me, so come out and face me like a man.”

The silence stretched on once more, ramping up my tension and the distant ghosts of old fear.

I couldn’t play his games. If I couldn’t drag him out of the shadows, then I either had to risk going in or give Sgott the go-ahead. The “all guns blazing” approach might not capture him but for all I knew, he was already in retreat. Neither he nor Halak was stupid, and he’d surely suspect I wouldn’t have come here alone.

I drew in another of those deeper breaths. Time to play the most dangerous card of all...

In a mocking tone, I said, “It would appear you’re afraid to face a lone, armed woman. But then, you always were a coward who preferred tormenting the vulnerable over anyone who could actually?—”

He erupted out of the darkness, a force of rage moving so fast he was almost a blur. I stepped back and slashed with the knife, slicing through his leather jacket and down into flesh. He didn’t care. He didn’t stop. He just hit me full force and sent me flying backwards. I crashed onto the earthen floor hard enough to wind and slid backward several more yards until I hit a coffee table. Wood splintered, and glass fell around me, slicing skin and drawing blood.

The air stirred in warning. I looked up, saw him in the air, arrowing feet first toward me. Saw the magic flowing around him. I wasn’t sure if it was a shield or some sort of enhancer, because the speed he was moving made it impossible?—

Move, idiot, my subconscious screamed, and I rolled desperately out of the way. His feet thudded where my face had been only seconds before, and I slashed wildly with the knife. The blade skimmed across the shield surrounding him and again its magic fell like rain. He lunged at me and, before I could react, grabbed my hand and pinned it to the floor—a movement that brought his pretty face far too close to mine. I clenched my free hand and punched with all the force I could muster. The blow hit his cheek and the side of his nose; blood and snot sprayed, splattering across the arm and hand he’d pinned. He laughed, raised a foot, and stomped down on my forearm.

Pain ripped through me, and my grip on the knife suddenly felt tenuous. Broken bone, I thought with a surprising degree of clarity.

“Let go of the knife, Bethany.”

“Go fuck yourself, Mkalkee Montraie.”

And hoped, with all my might, that Sgott and his people were paying attention. This could go very badly indeed if they weren’t.

“Your determination and courage is admirable. It’s certainly what made you my favorite toy.”

“I’ve grown some brains since then.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lush but bloody lips stretching into a smile that was warm and seductive. But if he was using the natural magnetism of the dark elf alongside that smile, then it sure as hell wasn’t working.

“Perhaps we should test whether those brains have made any difference to your hungers?—”