Lyra, already frozen with fear, found herself deeply regretting her life choices as the eyes of a demon burned into her.
Victor’s gaze followed that of the demon, landing on the patch of shadow cowering behind James.
A brief flicker of magic from both Victor and Edward, followed by the widening of their eyes as they adjusted to the Sight, was their only chance.
“Lyra, run!” James shouted.
Before the wizard and warlock’s vision had adjusted to the Sight, giving them the ability to see the pair, Moira was already moving in a pitch-black blur, wrapping herself tight around Victor’s face. His fingers tore at the living shadow that adhered to his skin, but no more than muffled shouts could be made out.
James lunged for the book. Edward jumped in the fray, his hands glowing with power as he went for it, too.
Meanwhile, the demon simply watched, its inky features twisted in a shark’s grin of yellowed teeth as it folded both arms and wings as it waited for a command. Its grin widened as it winked at Lyra while she back-winged, scrambling for the exit.
The receptionist, peeking in to see what the commotion was about, gasped and fell back as a wave of heat and feathers blasted her out of the way. Lyra had no idea what it was she had done, but before she even reached the door a wave of power had thrown the poor woman out of her way, sending her glasses skittering over the stone.
Driven by pure panic, she fled the way they had come.
* * *
And as she made her escape, the battle between James and Edward continued while Victor fought to remove Moira from his face.
Edward shoved his palm, glowing with power, against James’s chest. Gritting his teeth against the searing pain, James countered with a trick of his own; a right hook that sent Edward staggering back, releasing his hold on the book to clutch his gushing nose. A follow-up jab to his solar plexus sent him gasping to the ground, flopping in agony like a landed fish.
Then clawed hands grabbed his shoulders, the tips of talons digging deep into the muscle. With a low cry, James fell to his knees, dropping the book as pain rocketed through his nerves and down his spine.
His features twisted in anger, Victor wiped at the inky black blood on his face, smearing it across his tattoos. “You little traitor,” he hissed.
The only sound James could make was a howl of pain as the demon’s talons sunk deeper.
“I wasn’t expecting this. I’ll give you that.” Victor turned and gave Edward a vicious kick in the ribs. “Fool! What good is a wizard who doesn’t use his Sight at all times? That’s the second time you’ve failed me!”
Edward’s response was a thin whine in his throat, blood trickling through his fingers and moisture spilling from the corners of his closed eyes.
The demon loosed a dramatic sigh that made James gag. “Good help is so hard to find.”
“Shut up, Bazriel.”
Yellow fangs clacked together in warning. James yelped as its grip on him tightened. “You may have me bound, boy, but your dominion over me only goes so far. You’d do well to remember that.”
“Save the dramatics.”
Victor crouched down in front of James, who glared up at him, teeth clenched against the pain. The warlock licked a taste of Moira’s blue-black blood off the back of his hand, staring into James’s eyes as he did it. He followed that up with running a fingertip along one of the trickling rivulets of blood that poured from the wounds in his shoulders.
The few drops that collected on his finger were used as ink to trace a pattern on the ground between them. It was done absently, keeping his eyes locked on James’s the entire time, as though the actions were second nature to him. There was little the sorcerer could do to stop the hex being cast; if he moved, the demon would tear him apart.
“I’m very disappointed in you, Pierce. I thought we were beyond the point of needing a geas to keep you in line.”
James sucked in a quick breath, bracing against the pain as he reached out to catch Victor’s wrist. “That’s not necessary,” he managed between clenched teeth.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to agree to disagree,” Victor replied, jerking out of his grip and continuing to paint a series of symbols on the ground. “I bind you by blood, James Robert Pierce, to the task at hand. You will find the phoenix and return it to me, dead or alive, but whole. You know the consequences of breaking a geas, I assume.”
“Oh, and have him pick me up some scones while you’re at it. Ones with currants.”
Victor shot a look of disdain at the demon hunched over James, its forked tail wagging and twisting like a startled serpent in its excitement.
A jerky nod was all James could manage.
The claws slid from his flesh with a sick, wet pop. James cried out and wrapped his arms around himself to clutch at the wounds, hunching forward on his knees.
Bazriel patted the top of the sorcerer’s head, smearing blood into gelled blond spikes. There was a low purr of pleasure in his smooth voice. “Don’t forget the jam.”
Victor sighed, briefly rubbing the bridge of his nose between two blood-smeared fingers, leaving an even bigger mess on his face. With a shake of his head, he placed his palm on the geas, shoving power into it and activating the binding spell.
That done, he clapped his hands together as if dusting them off, then rose in one easy motion to his feet. He nudged James’s hunched form with the toe of his designer loafer.
“Consider this your last chance to make good. I’ll give you a few hours to bring her here. If you don’t, I’m sending someone else to look. For both of you.”