Page 110 of Cold Curses

He released me, and I kicked, trying to push it out of his reach. But he put a foot over the blade before I could reach it, and that had me scrambling back. He was dangerous enough on his own, much less with a honed blade in his hands.

“It’s my right. My due.”

That sounded like an elf thing. “Due from whom?”

There was a story here, but he was giving me only the dangling threads of it, and that wasn’t enough to make sense of what he was saying.

That question seemed to enrage him. He flipped my sword into the air, caught it, wrapped his fingers around the handle. Then pointed the blade at my heart.

“Give it back,” he said.

“I don’t have anything of yours!”I yelled out the words, putting magic behind them. But that was the wrong thing to do.

Black opened his mouth, screamed out fury that rose like a column of boiling magic into the sky. And then he lowered his gaze back to me. “I was never one of you. Even with Ariel. Never quite enough.”

I scrambled to my feet and moved backward. I didn’t like backing away from him—or anyone else. It felt cowardly. But I knew I was outmatched and I’d need more strength to beat him.

“It’s my turn,” he said. “I’ve waited long enough.”

His eyes bright with power, he held my sword horizontally in front of him. And he snapped the blade in two.

Because I’d tempered that steel with my own blood, I felt the shock of magic like needles in my bones. I clutched my chest, the pain not really there, but just as keen. Then he tossed the shards to the ground, the blade going flat and dull as the power seeped away.

Where had this strength—enough to allow him to snap magicked steel in half with his bare hands—come from?

He reached out a hand, and the earth shook, dirt rippling as he used it to pull me toward him. I turned to run, but the ground rebelled again, growing up into a mound that tripped me and sent me sprawling. I rose to my knees, crawled over cold earth, but it moved like a treadmill beneath me, and I felt him getting closer.

Down!Monster warned, and I went flat as that damned board whistled overhead. I should’ve splintered it when I’d had the chance.

I kicked, caught Black’s shin, and was relieved by his grunt ofpain. The board came down again, and I rolled to the side, then onto my back and aimed the heel of my boot at it. I put as much strength as I could muster into the strike. The board cracked, the sound splitting the darkness.

Black just tossed the pieces aside, and before I could evade him, he grabbed the front of my shirt and hauled me high enough that my toes didn’t touch the ground.

He stared at me, nostrils flaring and teeth bared, and I had to work to keep the fear down. But I wasn’t giving up to him—whatever he had done—without a fight. I put my arms between his, pushed, broke his hold, and dropped back to my feet. I aimed a right hook, but he caught my fist, tossed it away with force enough to have me stumbling backward. He grabbed my other wrist, twisted my arm back and up. Pain was a red-hot flare.

“Give it to me.”

“I don’t haveanything,” I said through the automatic tears triggered by the searing pain. With my arm caught, I tried to use the rest of my body. I stomped at his foot, but he avoided me; a kick to his shin made contact.

With a roar of fury, he released my arm, pushed me back against the building. I hit it, my wrist and shoulder singing in relief, but I knew that pain would be back.

I turned as quickly as I could, and a spinning kick caught his chin, had his head snapping back. He was stronger now, but he wasn’t a trained fighter. He caught himself before falling, then reset and came in with fury. I spun away just as he hit the carriage house, one of its walls cracking from the impact. I tried a crescent kick this time, but he grabbed my ankle, twisted. I hit the ground hard again, grabbed a handful of dirt, and, when he tried to roll me over, tossed it into his face.

He screamed, threw out a blind backhand that had my headsnapping to the side, and I knew the pain would suck in the millisecond before it registered. But that was only the beginning. I was still down and vulnerable, and he kicked me hard in the side.

I nearly lost my breath from the shock. Another kick had me rolling into a ball—his moves were so fast, I could barely defend myself. And I wondered if this was how I was going to die.

I heard screaming, thought it was me, realized it was sirens. Cops. Someone had called the CPD.

Their approach made Black pause, and I took the opportunity I’d been given, scissored my legs between his. I twisted and had him tumbling to the ground.

It took two pitiful tries to get to my feet, but I managed to do so just before being blinded by brilliant white lights.

And I felt him before I could see him.

“Connor,” I said before falling again. A door opened and then he was near me, catching me before I hit the ground.

“Black,” I said. “Tell the CPD to find Black.”