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Nothing happened. The Emperor’s body was still and lifeless. Shit, had I done it too fast? Panic choked my throat—
His eyes flickered open and he touched a tentative hand to his chest.
Relief washed the panic away. Now for the next bit . . .‘I’ve done all you directed,’ I said, surprised my voice came out calm. ‘So my task is complete. Agreed?’
He squinted at me, deep lines bracketing his mouth, almost as if he were in agony.
I leaned over, got right in his face. ‘Romulus Augustus, I have bonded Malik al-Khan’s soul to yours. Are we agreed that I have completed the task to your satisfaction?’
My heart stuttered desperately as his frown deepened. C’mon, say it!
‘Agreed.’ His voice was faint and there was a thread of question in the word . . .
A chime sounded.
. . . but not enough to stop the magic.
Bargain executed.
I collapsed back on my arse, head bowed, hardly believing it had worked—
It had fucking worked.
Yes! Katie, Freya and the rest were almost safe. One more thing . . .
Pulse pounding in my ears, I snatched the spells from the glyphs on Malik’s stone circle and slammed them into the glyphs carved around the outside of the stone where the Emperor lay. Hoisting him with his own magical petard.
Grabbing up the knife I stabbed it back into his chest again— C’mon, c’mon. . .
His soul appeared, face contorted with rage, mouth flapping silently like a landed fish.
‘Do not think to confuse the issue by being less than specific about exactly what you want me to do,’ I muttered, then smiled grimly, ripped Malik’s soul from around the Emperor’s, bundled it tight back inside me, then shoved the Emperor’s soul back, jerking the hot knife out with a pain-filled grunt, cradling my hand as I gagged on the reek of my own scorched flesh.
I shot a glance at Bastien still trapped on his circle. Kill him before or after giving Malik his soul back?‘Hell, you’re not going anywhere,’ I muttered, then trembling from adrenalin and expectant exhilaration, I half scrambled, half ran the few feet round to where Malik lay, and dropped to my knees next to him.
Even without the magic holding him, he still showed no signs of reviving from whatever the bastards had done to him. But he was immortal. They could hurt him, but they couldn’t kill him. Not ever. Right?
‘I have your soul safe here,’ I murmured, taking his icy hand and pressing it to my chest. His soul moved inside me, enfolding my heart within its cool embrace, and a curious peace settled in me. I gently laid his hand down, touched my fingers to my lips then placed them over his own heart. ‘Now I give you back your soul, Malik al-Khan.’
I gripped Janan, sent a prayer to any gods listening and sucked in a calming breath – need to do this right– then carefully leaned over and positioned the knife above Malik’s unbeating heart—
A hand seized my wrist, jerking me up.
A steel-hard arm pinioned me against a hard body.
And a familiar voice said, ‘You really do not want to do that, my lovely sidhe princess.’
Chapter Sixty-One
I froze as my old panic and fear flashed through me. Then fury scoured it away. I was done being scared of him, done letting my teenage memories of him rule my life, done letting him play with me like I was some sort of sidhe doll to prod and poke and push around whenever he felt like it. The sadistic psycho was a vamp and without Malik’s soul he was mortal.
He could die.
Of course, the psycho would be easier to kill if he wasn’t hugging me like a slobbering bear.
I released the knife as he wanted, then grabbed his arms where they banded beneath my breasts to stop him getting me in a choke-hold. Flexing my knees I dropped my body weight, shifting our joint centre of gravity forwards. Jerking my left leg up, I stomped hard on the bridge of his foot, hammering the heel of my boot down like a pile-driver, hearing his foot break with a happy crunching sound. The human foot has twenty-six bones – a quarter of all the bones in the body – thirty-three joints and more than a hundred muscles, tendons and ligaments. And even if the foot is no longer human but vamp, all those bones, joints and other things are still just as easily damaged. Stomping on anyone’s foot hurts.
A surprised yell blasted my ear and his hold loosened.
In one smooth move, I tightened my left hand on his arm, stepped into a spread-leg sumo-style stance, and double-hammered my elbow back into his groin, grim delight sparking as he let out a high-pitched squeal and started to double over. Sweeping my right leg behind him, I shoved it into the back of his thigh, further unbalancing him as I hooked my right hand under his leg, heaved him up, and threw him around my hips and down on to his back. He landed with a gratifyingly heavy thud, a startled pain-filled scream whooshing out of his mouth. I backed away, sucking in deep breaths to calm the adrenalin-shakes, working out my options.
Bastien was huddled on the ground in front of the Emperor’s slab, hands cupping his Mr Very Unhappy and moaning for England. Vulnerable, if not totally defenceless. The Empress must’ve released him from his stone. Nice for the Big Girl’s Blouse to have his mother watching over him. At least the Emperor was still lying on his stone circle, trapped by his own magic. Totally defenceless. Two vamps with one sword came to mind.
Time for Ascalon.
The ball of green dragonfire engulfed my hand, and grunting through the searing pain from Janan’s burns on my palm, I gripped the blessed sword.
I started towards them both.
Mr Moany Bastien stopped his over-the-top whimpering and rose to his feet as if a puppet master had pulled his strings. Creepy.
‘Well, well, princess,’ he said, backing around the stone slab. ‘I see you have your sword again. I take it you intend to dispatch Romulus Augustus with it before he calls any of his minions to the scene. He is a much more dangerous threat than I, is he not?’
I shot Supercilious Smiling Bastien a narrowed look. Killing the Emperor first was playing right into the pyscho’s hands. But, much as it irritated me, it was the way to go. ‘You’re right,’ I said coolly. ‘The Emperor needs dispatching. First.’
Smiley Bastien inclined his head in acknowledgement. ‘I am glad we agree, princess. On that, at least.’
Mentally I flipped him the bird and moved to the Emperor, positioning myself at the top of the stone circle. I looked into his flat alien eyes, then raised Ascalon two-handed over my head and brought the sword down. The blessed blade sliced through the Emperor’s neck with absolutely no resistance until it hit the sandstone. But unlike Janan, the sword cleaved cleanly through flesh, muscle, ligaments, tendons, blood vessels and bone, separating the Emperor’s laurel-wreathed head from his nude body. His eyes blinked, then his head slowly rolled to the side, stopping to glower at my feet as his crown lodged on the stone. Viscous claret-coloured blood seeped out of his severed neck and pooled beneath his head. I poked the head with the sword, moving it out of reach of the blood – better safe than sorry – then quickly changed my grip on the sword so the blade pointed downwards.
‘The heart, my bride,’ Eager Bastien urged. ‘Do not forget the heart.’
‘I know,’ I snapped back, thinking you’re next, buddy. I moved sideways, lining myself up with the Emperor’s chest, then stabbed down into his heart; again the blessed steel cut cleanly, resisting only as it bit into the stone beneath. The Emperor’s body stiffened, limbs going rigid, then it sunk in on itself like a pricked balloon until all that was left was withered, wrinkled skin over jutting bone.
I poked at the Emperor’s remains with the sword. I’d sort of expected something more to happen when ending a mille