Page 60 of Bitter Spirits

“Locke, don’t!” Des’s bellow stopped him in mid-move. “I’m barely keeping this shit contained. If you step inside that mess, I won’t be able to hold it back.”

Only then did Locke realize Des was not one of the three figures fighting. Instead, Des was crouched near an overturned chair, magic a dull silver halo as it ran through him and into his hands, which were pressed flat against the floor to create a rough containment circle around the trio.

Questions crowded Locke’s brain, but only one escaped. “What the hell?”

An unearthly scream of fury ripped through the air, and the figures broke apart, one tearing free and barreling into Des.

“¡Muévete, chingádo!”

Locke recognized Angel’s voice even as a pained grunt came from Des. It was followed by a dull thud as Angel kicked out, sending an already off-balance Des rocking back. Power flared as he lost his hold on the magical containment.

Des snarled in frustration and tried to grab the man rushing toward the broken front door. “Asshole!”

Locke couldn’t see what happened next because, free from restraint, volatile magic tore through the room on an unearthly wail. In the center of it all stood a terrible beauty, dark hair whipping around her face, her eyes disconcerting black pools, her face filled with a terrifying hunger as ragged remnants of spirits coiled around her like a beloved pet. Frenzied inky ribbons whipped out like a tentacled nightmare. Locke dodged one only to have another find its mark. Like a barbed trap, it burrowed deep with an unearthly chill as the suffocating pressure of magic tightened around him and insidious whispers tunneled into Locke’s skull, shredding his sanity.

He could feel his mental grip slipping when his magic leapt forward, burning through the ice. It snarled and snapped, forcing the invading magic to retreat. As his mind cleared, he reinforced his power, holding Isa’s attack at bay. When he lifted his head, he realized he had been forced to his knees by the assault. He flexed his power, searing through the tendrils anchoring him in place, then set his teeth and shoved to his feet as the last few ties frayed and fell away. Half-blinded by shadows, he fought his way toward Isa, using his affinity with air to create a shield against the storm of bone-chilling magic as the abilities that served him as a Hound helped him create a path to his target.

He broke through the dizzying dance of shadows to cut in front of Isa. She wasn’t watching him but was focused on Des and Angel, who were still fighting, magic erupting like flares around them. She started forward with an intimidating deliberateness, the darkness around her hungry and focused. Locke’s instincts screamed, and he reached for her, only to stop as Des’s earlier warning echoed through his aching head.

His hands, just a breath away from touching her, were slowly going numb from the encroaching chill. “Isa.”

She stilled, her inhuman gaze shifting to him. There was no recognition, no sign that Isa was in there, just the merciless presence of the Reaper. “Move.”

He knew it was stupid to deny this creature, but he still said, “No.” Power whipped around him, sinking through skin and bone to rip across his soul like vicious barbs. He hissed in pain, and his gut twisted as he fought the urge to strike out. “Stop it, Isa. This isn’t you.”

She cocked her head, a look of cruel amusement in her eyes. “This is all me.” The silvery wisps twined tighter, momentarily warping her facial features into something unrecognizable as the wails in his head grew louder and angrier. “We will have vengeance.”

We?

She turned back, resuming her measured pursuit of her prey.

He matched her step for step, reducing the space between them to mere inches before stopping. “Not like this.”

She turned to him, her gaze filled with a depth of magic he didn’t bother trying to decipher. “The bargain was struck. Judgment has been rendered. Recompense is due.”

Questions tripped over his pulse, but they would have to wait for later. If there was a later. “We’ll get it, I promise, but not like this.”

He needed Isa back behind the wheel because some instinct warned him if he lost her now, it would be for good. The Reaper studied him. As close as he was to her, he could see the superimposed image of someone else’s features that flickered over Isa’s face like a macabre veil. It was disturbing and wrong on so many levels and left him shaken.

“Please, reinita.”

For a moment, recognition flashed in the inky depths of her eyes, and he thought he’d gotten through, but a surge of power, followed by a pained bellow, broke the moment. Her attention flashed to the action behind him, and the traces of Isa were swallowed under by the pitiless Reaper.

“Move. Now.”

The order was followed by a shove of magic, but Locke grabbed her arms, twisted her around, and dragged her toward him. An agonizing chill wrapped them both. As she struggled against him, he rode the pain, forcing her back against his chest with his arms hooked around her, trapping her against him. Locke pulled his head back as she tried to smash her head into his face, and he kicked her legs apart, disrupting her balance. He held tight even as they fell together, the bruising of his shoulder and hip lost under the excruciating cold burn as her power fought back.

At any other time, Locke would have admired Isa’s tenacity as she continued to fight, using her legs, feet, and even teeth, but when his options for stopping her without hurting her were limited, it was just a pain in the ass. He was trying to use his body weight to pin her to the floor, but her movements grew more frenzied as she was reduced to furious growls.

“Dammit, Isa, come back. Stop this.”

Her magic hit him like a multitailed bullwhip, and he grunted under the impact. Somehow, he managed to maintain his hold. Temper sparked, and with a snarl, he got a foot against the floor and started to force her under him. Realizing she was outweighed, she struggled harder, her embedded magic raking against his. Then Des was there, adding his magic to the fight, forcing Isa to split her attention, which allowed Locke to roll her body under his. She bucked a few more times then stilled. Not fooled by her sudden surrender, he didn’t ease back.

“Let him go, Isa,” Des said roughly. He lowered himself until he was looking into her face, his magic pushing against hers, as Locke tried to catch his breath. “He’s not who you want.”

“Where is he? The one who has to pay?” There was an unusual whine to her voice, one he’d never heard before. “Where is he?”

Des’s gaze flicked to Locke, worry and a warning in his eyes. Locke braced and tightened his hold on her wrists, keeping them pinned to the floor.