Page 35

Chapter

Twenty-Five

M y movement caught Hightower’s attention and he raised a plucked eyebrow. ‘Hello, puss cat. You're a handsome bastard.’ He paused. ‘Not as handsome as me, though.’

I didn’t miaow or hiss, which showed remarkable restraint under the circumstances.

I simply watched him, sphinx-like. A ghost of a smile crossed his mouth then his gaze drifted down to the smashed vase and he clicked his tongue.

‘You’re in trouble, pusskins.’ He paused.

‘But not as much trouble as your mistress. Death is stalking Adrienne McDonald.’

My stomach tightened but I continued to stare lazily at him. I didn’t want him to have any reason to think of me as anything other than a cat.

‘Is she upstairs?’ he asked.

Obviously I didn’t answer, just dipped my head and licked my right paw before raising it to wash my face.

‘Is talking to a cat the first sign of madness – or the last?’ Hightower muttered under his breath.

Disappointed by my lack of response, he sighed and returned the silphium to the coffee table before walking quietly out of the room. I stretched my legs, hopped off the chair and followed him, fighting the urge to attack his ankles with my claws and fangs.

It was galling that Hightower had managed to fool me so effectively into thinking he was an idiot.

He was an extraordinarily convincing actor – and that made me want to lash out at him in a daft bid to regain the upper hand.

But he’d killed three people; he’d have no qualms about killing a cat. I had to be patient.

Hightower gave a cursory glance into the downstairs rooms. Satisfied they were empty, he headed upstairs, treading lightly on the thick carpet. I waited until he’d reached the first-floor landing then backed away and hawked up the hairball so I could return to human form.

It wouldn’t take Hightower long to scour the upstairs rooms so I had to be quick; in fact, my legs and arms were still twitching with involuntary spasms when I ran after him, balancing on my toes to avoid making any noise.

It was only when I reached the first floor that I was in full control of my body again.

That was when I slid out my dagger from the strap between my shoulders. I’d saved Quentin Hightower before, but now I would kill him. Easy come. Easy go.

There was a particular art to assassinating witches.

EEL employees agreed that it was best done from a distance because, even if you possessed magic, you were taking a risk by getting up close and personal to them.

You could never know for certain what magical tricks they might have hidden up their sleeves.

Any hint of suspicion on a powerful witch’s part, and an assassin would more likely end up injured or dead long before the target could be killed.

At that moment, however, distance was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

It wasn’t completely disastrous. Regardless of who Hightower was or what hidden magic and intelligence lurked beneath his silly clothes and ridiculous pronouncements, he wasn’t a god.

It wouldn’t be too hard to creep up from behind and take him unawares.

Slitting his throat would be best, and it would be a swift and relatively painless death.

Given the circumstances, it was far better than he deserved.

The faint creak from one of the rooms on the right told me that Hightower was snooping around Adrienne’s bedroom.

He Who Guards appeared from the room opposite, his expression leaving little to the imagination.

He wanted me to get a move on and deal with the intruder as quickly as possible.

I gestured for him to be patient then I tiptoed into the bedroom.

Quentin Hightower’s back was to me. He had opened the wide, oak wardrobe doors and was gazing at the contents. You won’t find any silphium seeds in there , I told him silently. And you won’t find Adrienne hiding in the corner.

I adjusted my grip on the dagger and moved forward. I was within striking distance when, unfortunately, Quentin Hightower turned his head. He stared at me in shock. I didn’t waste my time but simply raised my dagger and slashed it towards his exposed neck.

The tip of the blade pierced his skin and slid into his flesh but Hightower recovered faster than I had anticipated.

He reached into his pocket, drew out a pinch of powder and tossed it at me.

The spell – whatever it was – wrenched the dagger from my grasp with enough force for it to fly several metres through the air.

It landed on the floor somewhere behind me to my left.

Damn it. Schoolgirl error: you should never ever allow your only weapon to leave your hand.

I leapt to the left, planning to retrieve the dagger and finish what I’d started, but Hightower was ready for that.

He followed up his first blast with a second, more focused burst of magical power that slammed into my chest and sent me thudding to the floor.

I banged my head on the way down and pain reverberated through every inch of my body.

This was getting annoying. I’d had the element of surprise on my side – it should have been over by now.

Once upon a time I could have leapt to my feet without using my hands, but I didn’t even attempt that now.

Instead I rolled and solved two problems in one go: I avoided Hightower’s third magic attack and scooted closer to my dagger.

It was underneath Adrienne’s bed and I would have to stretch my fingers to grab it, but it wasn’t far away.

My titanium-coated darling would be back with me soon.

‘You again,’ Hightower whispered.

Yep. I didn’t reply: I wasn’t there to chat. Instead I moved to block his view of the fallen dagger. If I could curl my fingers around the hilt, I could throw it at his head. That would certainly stop him talking.

‘You saved my life,’ he continued.

We all made mistakes. I manoeuvred my arm behind my back and my fingertips scraped the dagger’s cool metal hilt, but I wasn’t close enough. I allowed my gaze to meet Hightower’s dark eyes and shifted another couple of inches backwards.

‘Why did you do that?’ he asked softly. ‘Why did you save me?’

What could I say? It had seemed like a good idea at the time, though I was certainly regretting it now.

I stretched my hand and felt a surge of satisfaction when I wrapped my fingers around the dagger’s hilt.

I kept my eyes on Hightower, mentally calculating the trajectory and the force I’d need to bring this to an end.

As he stared back at me, I registered the furious spark in his expression. Shit. I had to?—

‘Rigor,’ Hightower whispered, the magic of imperious command rippling through the single word .

My body was forced into an immediate response and every muscle twitched until my limbs were tense and stiff.

When I tried to move, nothing happened. I tried again but I couldn’t.

Abruptly I realised what that witchy bastard had done: he’d trapped me inside my own body.

My bones had become a cage from which I couldn’t escape.

What the hell kind of spell was this? I strained, trying desperately to move; if I could fight the magic somehow, there was still hope.

I managed to blink my eyes. Okay, that was something.

Then my big toe pulsed, which was even better, but I couldn’t feel anything else. Fuck. I couldn’t do anything else.

A spasm of panic overtook me. Help. HELP .

My fear was almost my undoing. My heart was hammering against my ribcage, my throat closing up. It was like I’d forgotten how to breathe. My vision started to blur.

At least there wasn’t any pain. I’d envisaged my death a million times and in a million different ways over the years, but none of those imaginings had come close to this. The flare of panic that had assaulted me faded away. Everyone dies sooner or later; it was simply my time.

It was that state of calm acceptance that changed everything.

As soon as I was no longer expending my effort and energy on fighting the spell, I saw the strain on Hightower’s face.

His forehead was oddly shiny and he’d stopped talking.

The power needed to maintain the magic was too much for him; it would be too much for anyone.

Feeling oddly detached, I watched his body sag – and suddenly I was free. It was as if a heavy weight had been removed: I could breathe, move and, most importantly, act.

I grabbed my dagger then stood up and snatched his cravat with my other hand. I swallowed and murmured slightly to test my vocal chords. I was alright. I was still here.

‘That’s a pretty scary spell you’re pulling there, buster,’ I said aloud. ‘But you don’t have the stamina for that sort of magic.’

He reached into his pocket for another pinch of magical powder but I batted his hand away.

I felt slow and sluggish in the aftermath of the rigor spell, but Hightower had been affected too and he was suffering far more than I was.

The energy he’d expended to blast that spell at me had sapped his strength.

He tried to kick me. My reaction time wasn’t great but, still holding his cravat, I avoided his foot and jumped to the side. Despite my grip, Hightower twisted and tried to kick me again. Sod this. I pressed the dagger into his neck. ‘Please,’ he croaked.

Here we go: it was time to listen to him plead for his life. I wondered how much money he’d offer me, or if he’d tell me that his family and his coven needed him. Once you’d heard one ‘don’t-kill-me’ plea, you’d heard them all.

A bead of blood appeared on his tanned skin; it would stain his silly suit. What a shame. ‘Don’t hurt the nymph,’ he said. ‘She’s done nothing wrong.’ His eyes implored me. ‘She doesn’t deserve to die.’

I blinked then pulled back the dagger. ‘So why did you come here to kill her?’

His brow furrowed. ‘I came here to save her. You’re the one who wants to kill her.’ Hightower’s voice sounded weak and thready. His lips were tinged blue and he was sweating even more than before. ‘Aren’t you?’

I squinted at him – then his eyes rolled back and his body went limp. Huh.