corner of his right eye. They gleamed within the iris, like drops of red paint.
What the hell did that mean?
I extended my athame and concentrated, drawing more power. The earth was rich in energy here, but channeling it naked was painful. I was blasting out nerve endings in my hands and fingers, singeing the hairs on my arms. Holding on to the materia was like swallowing fire. I gritted my teeth and kept pulling.
When the power filled my core, I let it flow down the hilt of the athame, willing the molecular bonds of the blade to loosen. The metal shimmered and flexed. I kept pushing, and the blade elongated, becoming a line of crackling, green-tinted light. It was now roughly the size of a katana, and just as delicately bowed. I wrapped my hand firmly around the hilt, even as it burned me.
“Wanna tussle?” I kept those three bloody drops in my sight, memorizing their precise configura-tion in case we met again. “Let’s do it.”
He pointed the glove at me. Electric red vapors blossomed from his palm.
I held the athame extended in front of me, adjusting the wavelength of the intense UV light that was powering it. The field of energy spread outward, molding to the shape of a sphere around me. I drew from the ground one more time. The power moved hungrily through raw channels. I felt a wave of pain, but I stood my ground.
The nebulous red fire washed over my shield, like a toxic cloud. Glowing fissures appeared along the surface of the sphere. Each one was a claw sinking into me. I held on tighter to the athame, staring straight ahead, even as my eyes began to water.
The cloud thinned, then dissipated. I was still alive.
Maybe even for five more minutes.
Patrick yelled something I couldn’t understand. Maybe it was in Anglo-Saxon. Then he ran toward the necromancer.
“No! You idiot, get back here!”
His form blurred, and he slammed into the figure in black. They both toppled to the ground. I always forgot how strong he was.
They wrestled with each other. I saw the glove beginning to glow again.
Shit.
If he touched Patrick, the necroid materia would unravel his flesh like a rotten net. Even if he was technically dead already, I didn’t think his cells were immune to that kind of annihilating power.
I ran toward the two bodies grappling on the ground, holding the athame high above my head. If I was going to go out tonight, at least I’d do it in glorious style.
I sliced downward with the blade, aiming for the necromancer’s head. As I’d anticipated, he raised his right palm to ward off the blow by reflex. The blade struck one of the glowing gemstones on the glove, cracking it.
Sparks leapt from the glove. The necromancer cried out for the first time as red light crawled up his wrist, searing through the flesh of his hand. I raised my athame for another blow, but something hard and sharp hit me in my solar plexus. The blow knocked my legs out from under me, and I fell.
Both of them were struggling for the gun now. I tried to breathe. My chest burned from whatever offensive power he’d thrown at me. I raised myself to one knee. I was inches away from the car now. It gave me an idea.
I didn’t have much strength left to draw on geothermal materia. But the car’s engine was an electrical catalyst. I placed my palm against the hood. I could feel the battery inside, dark and asleep.
Wake up!
I pulled with every scrap of willpower that I had left. I didn’t have the mastery to draw upon raw electrical power, like lightning from a storm. But I was definitely plucky enough to drain a car battery of its energy reserves.
The stale electricity tore through me, spasming the muscles of my right arm. It hurt even more than I’d thought it would. The pain made everything go white for a second. But I held on to consciousness. I narrowed the snapping electricity down to a small, hot globe of power and intensity.
“Patrick!” He looked at me, struggling to pin the necromancer to the ground. “Get out of
What the hell did that mean?
I extended my athame and concentrated, drawing more power. The earth was rich in energy here, but channeling it naked was painful. I was blasting out nerve endings in my hands and fingers, singeing the hairs on my arms. Holding on to the materia was like swallowing fire. I gritted my teeth and kept pulling.
When the power filled my core, I let it flow down the hilt of the athame, willing the molecular bonds of the blade to loosen. The metal shimmered and flexed. I kept pushing, and the blade elongated, becoming a line of crackling, green-tinted light. It was now roughly the size of a katana, and just as delicately bowed. I wrapped my hand firmly around the hilt, even as it burned me.
“Wanna tussle?” I kept those three bloody drops in my sight, memorizing their precise configura-tion in case we met again. “Let’s do it.”
He pointed the glove at me. Electric red vapors blossomed from his palm.
I held the athame extended in front of me, adjusting the wavelength of the intense UV light that was powering it. The field of energy spread outward, molding to the shape of a sphere around me. I drew from the ground one more time. The power moved hungrily through raw channels. I felt a wave of pain, but I stood my ground.
The nebulous red fire washed over my shield, like a toxic cloud. Glowing fissures appeared along the surface of the sphere. Each one was a claw sinking into me. I held on tighter to the athame, staring straight ahead, even as my eyes began to water.
The cloud thinned, then dissipated. I was still alive.
Maybe even for five more minutes.
Patrick yelled something I couldn’t understand. Maybe it was in Anglo-Saxon. Then he ran toward the necromancer.
“No! You idiot, get back here!”
His form blurred, and he slammed into the figure in black. They both toppled to the ground. I always forgot how strong he was.
They wrestled with each other. I saw the glove beginning to glow again.
Shit.
If he touched Patrick, the necroid materia would unravel his flesh like a rotten net. Even if he was technically dead already, I didn’t think his cells were immune to that kind of annihilating power.
I ran toward the two bodies grappling on the ground, holding the athame high above my head. If I was going to go out tonight, at least I’d do it in glorious style.
I sliced downward with the blade, aiming for the necromancer’s head. As I’d anticipated, he raised his right palm to ward off the blow by reflex. The blade struck one of the glowing gemstones on the glove, cracking it.
Sparks leapt from the glove. The necromancer cried out for the first time as red light crawled up his wrist, searing through the flesh of his hand. I raised my athame for another blow, but something hard and sharp hit me in my solar plexus. The blow knocked my legs out from under me, and I fell.
Both of them were struggling for the gun now. I tried to breathe. My chest burned from whatever offensive power he’d thrown at me. I raised myself to one knee. I was inches away from the car now. It gave me an idea.
I didn’t have much strength left to draw on geothermal materia. But the car’s engine was an electrical catalyst. I placed my palm against the hood. I could feel the battery inside, dark and asleep.
Wake up!
I pulled with every scrap of willpower that I had left. I didn’t have the mastery to draw upon raw electrical power, like lightning from a storm. But I was definitely plucky enough to drain a car battery of its energy reserves.
The stale electricity tore through me, spasming the muscles of my right arm. It hurt even more than I’d thought it would. The pain made everything go white for a second. But I held on to consciousness. I narrowed the snapping electricity down to a small, hot globe of power and intensity.
“Patrick!” He looked at me, struggling to pin the necromancer to the ground. “Get out of
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