Chapter 33 - Reap and Sow

It couldn’t rightly be called a mere punch. The ferocity with which Kit struck his brother made Eda flinch—the crunch of bone, the spray of blood. Mr. Night’s head snapped sideways. He actually stumbled.

For a moment, he stood immobile, face concealed by snowy hair.

Then he turned his head, and his eyes burned. “My, my.” He spat out a tooth. “The little lordling is vexed. I almost felt that one.”

Kit stood with feet planted apart. His tail whipped back and forth, but his shoulders were taut and still as mountain peaks. Claws curled into fists so hard that blood seeped between his fingers. His ring was conspicuously absent.

“Long you’ve sought your chance to kill me, Baelion. Here it is.”

Mr. Night would have a chance, Eda realized with horror. Kit must have observed that the glyph and alchemists alone were keeping his brother in: a trap designed for a demon. And now he’s trapped too.

Mr. Night shook his hair from his face. Blood stained his mouth—he licked it away. “Kill you? No, Kit’rath. I want to turn you inside out.” His pupils bloomed, a mad excitement transforming him into something Eda did not recognize. This was not the Mr. Night she thought she’d known. This was the truth of him. This was Baelion. “I want to tear you limb from limb. Hear you beg for our mother like the sniveling babe she so adored. Then, perhaps, I will grant you death. Ah, but you know this. That’s why you hid from me.” His magma gaze slid over Kit’s shoulder. “Don’t tell me some human gishrat is the source of your newfound mettle?”

Whatever gishrat meant, it did not sound complimentary.

Kit said nothing.

“You would take everything that is rightly mine. But she is not for you.” Fixed upon her like a hound on a rabbit, Baelion took a step forward.

Kit snapped, “Do not touch her!”

Baelion paused. Blinked. Slowly, he began to laugh. “No. No! It cannot be.” He laughed harder. His mouth stretched about his fangs in a strange puppetlike grimace. His brow lowered as if in pain. But his mirth was very real. “You stupid little wretch. You’re in love with her.”

Eda stopped breathing.

Kit was living stone and far more brittle. Even his tail fell still, as though a single knock might shatter him into a thousand pieces. She dearly wished she could see his face.

You’re in love with her.

Baelion cracked his knuckles. “You always did have an obscene interest in this world. Fitting, that you’ll die here. I’ll kill sweet Eda first, shall I? That way you can watch.”

“You will not.”

“And who means to stop me? You? I remember how you pissed yourself when we took your horn, crying like an infant.” He paced. “I smell your fear even now. You are scared of me, brother.”

“Not as scared as you are of me, brother,” Kit said quietly. “You know that if the courts had their way, they’d install me as archduke. You could have left me to the human world forever. But you couldn’t bear the thought that I might one day challenge your authority. You’ve always felt threatened by me, Baelion.” His voice dipped. “Now you fucking should be.”

Baelion lunged with a snarl.

“Get away,” Kit barked at her, leaping to meet his brother’s attack.

Eda scrambled to get her legs beneath her. She crawled around the back of the Gateway; her foot hit something. The hammer! She grabbed it in a clammy palm and held it to her chest. But where’s the chisel?

She peered around the mirror.

The two demons were a whirl of black and white, moving faster than she could follow. Terrible animalistic snarls echoed off the templehouse walls. Kit transformed into a huge snake and lunged—his brother knocked him aside, sending his coiling body sliding across the floor. Kit transformed again just as Baelion brought a fist down where he’d been, cracking the stone. He swooped away in his bird form. Baelion followed in a furious surge of midnight smoke, twining and twisting.

And there, still painted with demonic blood, the chisel glinted at her from across the dais.

Eda gritted her teeth and made a break for it.

The dark torrent above changed course at once, descending on her in a writhing fury. The bird swerved and flew directly into its path. Eda ducked with a yelp as they fell past her, close enough to stir her hair. She heard them crash to the ground. A pained cry. A vicious roar. She dared not look, snatching up the chisel.

Ben grabbed her. “Leave it, Eda.”

“He’s weaker if we destroy the mirror.”

“So is Kit!”

“I know.” She turned to Tenelle, who was leaning heavily on the young Blade beside her. “Can you cover me?”

“Yes, but do it fast. The alchemists are tiring.”

She was right. Overhead, the two blue-clad figures were visibly stooped and pale-faced, their mouths moving sluggishly over whispered words. The runner across the dais had been rucked up in the struggle, and the glowing lines were dim and fluttering like a dying firefly. If Baelion chose to flee, they’d never get this chance again. Lawrie would die.

Eda grabbed Ben’s hand. “Help me.”

He nodded. “Always.”

They ran.

Baelion’s head snapped up. He made for them, but a barrage of silver-tipped arrows cut him off. Kit grabbed him by the horn and yanked him back. Baelion roared. Twisting, he drove his claws into Kit’s gut. The younger demon stumbled, clutched at his stomach. Blood ran.

No! Eda nearly tripped. They were at the Gateway, but she could hardly remember why. All she could see was Baelion slamming Kit to the floor. The glyph fluttered.

Don’t look. Don’t look at him. Focus on the mirror.

“Eda,” Ben was saying. “Here, quick.” He took the chisel and hammer, gave her his sword in return. She took it with numb fingers.

Kit’s tail whipped in a frenzy. He bared bloody fangs as his brother choked him, blood welling beneath sharp claws. He shuddered between forms, but Baelion squeezed harder, and none took.

The elder demon’s hair fell in a tangled curtain of silk as he bent low over Kit, grinning. “Live like a mortal if you wish, Kit’rath, and die like one.”

With a cold stab, Eda realized that Baelion held one of the silver-headed arrows. He raised it above Kit’s heart.

She did not think. She ran.

Eda never knew how heavy a sword could be until she was finally lifting one above her shoulder. Muscles screamed. Pain rattled her very bones. But the burden was lighter than her desperation. With a cry, she brought the sword down.

Baelion twisted to face her. Eyes flashed.

He dropped the arrow and knocked the sword from her hand. Eda knew he would, for she couldn’t possibly hope to surprise him twice. He swiped his tail under her legs and sent her crashing to the ground. She gasped, stunned. Baelion barely looked at her before turning back to his brother.

She’d bought Kit a mere moment.

It was enough.

Kit’s arm swung upward. Baelion jerked.

The world seemed to slow. Everything passed through molasses as Eda spotted the silver arrow protruding from the side of Baelion’s neck. Kit bared his fangs and twisted it. Fresh blood spurted forth.

Baelion choked—a horrid wet sound. He reared, stumbled to his feet. Clutching the arrow, he tore it free with a garbled roar.

Crack.

Eda twisted to look.

Ben stood by the Gateway, hammer raised high.

Baelion’s eyes widened. “You—vhesan isak—” He spat blood.

Crack.

Baelion lurched with a snarl, trying to reach the mirror before his world, the very source of his power, was lost to him forever.

CRACK.

The Gateway exploded.

Eda turned her face away as chunks of obsidian flew in all directions and a great, roaring wind blasted through the pews. Windows shattered. Blades exclaimed in shock. The glyph sputtered and died as the entire templehouse filled with a primordial darkness, the howling of an ancient, unknowable storm. But then it was done.

In the stillness that followed, Baelion swayed. Sank to his knees. “No,” he whispered. “No.” His marble face was marred with black burns and blood, but it was his expression that disturbed Eda most of all. For the first time ever, she saw fear.

Kit rose up behind him with her discarded sword.

Eda found her voice. “You are no mortal, Baelion Ansellis. But you will die like one.”

He met her eyes.

Kit swung the blade straight through his brother’s neck.