Spinning on his heel, he wobbled on his injured leg, and stumbled. “Your blood will—”
I twisted back, put my weight behind the movement, and pierced his heart with the blade.
“I’m not sorry you’re dead,” I told him, his eyes clouding. “You helped mold Midas into the man he is today, but I would give him up in a blink to spare him all the misery you inflicted on him as a child.”
Blood frothed between Ferro’s lips. “I would…do…it…all over…again.”
“Yeah.” I released the hilt, the blade stuck in bone, and kept my distance. “I know.” I watched him hit his knees. “Yet another reason why I’m not sorry about the whole killing-you thing.”
Clutching the hilt, Ferro ripped the dagger from his chest and lifted his arm in a throwing arc.
“Hadley.”
Ambrose materialized behind Ferro, ripping the dagger from his failing grip, but Ambrose had burned through his magic, and the blade slid through his fingers.
Bishop caught it midair then descended on Ferro, turning him into a gwyllgi pincushion.
All in all, it was a valiant group effort, even if I do say so myself.
And it guaranteed when Natisha woke, she would shriek for our heads on individual silver platters.
“Well, that was…violent.” I wiped my hands on my pants. “You okay over there?”
The wintry road must have gotten Bishop’s blood up, and if that was the case, I wanted it out of his system.
“Moron,” Bishop panted. “Midas let him go. He should have stayed gone.”
Guys like Ferro—spoiled, coddled, and plain mean—never did the smart thing. They didn’t know how.
“Ferro has been the monster under Midas’s bed since he was a kid. I feel no remorse in slaying him.”
I said it out loud, not only to test how I felt about what I had done, but to let Bishop know I was okay.
“You might want to disavow knowledge of this part.” Bishop crouched beside Ferro. “You don’t need to see it.”
Already certain where this was heading, I braced myself to bear witness. “I’m good.”
Ambrose came to stand beside me, an oddly comforting presence under the circumstances.
Huffing a strained laugh, Bishop couldn’t quite meet my gaze. “Liar.”
Using a burst of terrifying speed and strength, he lopped off Ferro’s head neat and clean.
Fisting the hair, Bishop collected his trophy and returned the dagger to its scabbard. “Ready to go?”
Unsure how to broach the topic of his new accessory, I bobbed my head and chirped, “Yup.”
That squeak might not win me confidence as the future potentate, but I was under a lot of stress, okay?
“There,” Bishop announced. “We’re done here.”
“Not quite.” I pointed out the portal to Ambrose. “Bring it down?”
“Of course.” Ambrose pivoted on his heel and began to drain it. “I’m happy to help.”
With his tank on empty, Ambrose made quick work of devouring its power source.
The portal winked out, for good this time, and he hit the stairs at a dead run before the bloat struck me.
The long and winding staircase spiraled straight up, seemingly forever.
Did I mention it was both long and winding?
Magic hummed under my skin, the overflow from Ambrose, but even it was having trouble regulating me. I had done too much, been awake too long, and eaten too little. I wasn’t built to hold so much power, and my body required more than energy if I wanted to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Bishop tilted his head back to watch Ambrose’s mad dash. “Where’s he going in such a hurry?”
“To burn some calories.” I fluttered my lashes at Bishop. “Carry me to the top?”
“Nice try.” He raised Ferro’s head. “I’m already carrying one extra.”
Wrinkling my nose, I decided I would rather walk than carry that the whole way.
“I’ll walk behind to catch you if you fall.”
“Thaaanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Where was Midas and his carrying-damsels fetish when I needed him?
Sigh.
I began the climb, but I would like to go on record as not being happy about it.
Ambrose came and went, sprinting past us while humming one of Ford’s favorite country songs, draining as much excess as possible to make room for the final tether he had to chow down on.
Bishop kept his own council, which got dull after a while, but the head in his hand kept me in my lane.
Whatever his purpose in bringing it with us, I had to admit it proved an effective Hadley deterrent.
“You’re almost there,” Ambrose announced, his passage stirring a breeze. “Two more flights.”
“Thank the goddess.” I put some pep in my step. “If I never see another archive, it will be too soon.”
“I’m right there with you,” Bishop panted. “This staircase is the true horror of this place.”
Ambrose whooshed by me again, aiming for the exit. He disappeared behind a twist in the stairs then grunted and came stumbling down them. Baring his teeth, he growled at whatever had shoved him.
“You’re not going anywhere,” a young woman’s voice drifted down to us. “Not without my mother.”
Ah, yes.
I knew I had forgotten something.
Well, this answered the question of where the daughter and spare sacrifice got off to after Remy left.
“You’re certifiable if you think I’m going to climb back down, throw your mom across my shoulder, then climb up again.” I snorted. “I can barely stand here without my legs buckling. Why don’t you go get your mom? I’ll wait here.”
“You’ll leave, and you’ll close the portal behind you.”
“It sounds like you’ve got a choice to make. Your freedom or your mommy. I know which I’d choose.”
“We can’t waste our efforts here,” Ambrose murmured. “Time moves differently in this place.”
Nodding at the reminder, I had a decision to make. It was an easy one. “Take them down.”
“With pleasure,” Ambrose purred as he swept up the staircase. “Hello again…”
A scream filled the archive, and then a second voice joined it, as he tossed them off the staircase.
They fell.
And fell.
And fell.
I heard when they hit bottom.
I will never, no matter how long I live, forget the sound.
Ambrose shoved his hands into his pockets, another Linus affectation, then he smiled over his shoulder.
“I took them down, as you requested.” His teeth flashed. “They made a satisfying crunch, did they not?”
“Yeah.” I rubbed my prickling nape. “They crunched all right.”
A Doritos Locos Taco had nothing on them.
Note to self: Get Ambrose to Taco Bell stat.
As much as I wanted to yell at him that wasn’t what I meant, it was my own fault for giving him so much slack in his leash. Ambrose had no filters, and he had been corporeal enough during the last twenty-four hours to think he could start being sly in interpreting my orders again.
“Let’s go.” It wasn’t what I wanted to say, but it was the best I had. “The others are waiting.”