Powell stopped her sendings. “What are you doing?”
I froze. She had sensed the disruption in the bindings.
“Falling asleep from boredom,” said Meryl.
“You won’t be soon,” she replied. The sendings began again.
I faced the standing stone. My sword felt warm in my hand as I lifted the blade to one of the ribbons. Bindings are directed essence with no will of their own. Sharp metal can disrupt them. The first ribbon literally melted as I brought the blade near. One of the rune charms glowed on the sword. The remaining bands shifted and tightened, and Meryl sucked in a breath. The damned things may be mindless, but they still hurt like hell. Cutting each successive band would cause the remaining ones to tighten. I swept the sword across the stone, the blade making a metallic shriek as it scraped. The ribbons parted, waving in the air as they lost purchase, then snuffed out.
Sword up, I jumped from behind the stone. Meryl was free. A flash of green filled the clearing with the ozone odor of an essence strike. Powell spun, tripping back on her heels, and fell flat on her back. Meryl extended two fingers like a gun barrel and blew on them. “That’ll teach her to turn her back on me.”
I wrapped my arms around her. “Sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”
She hugged me back, her orange mop of hair pressing into my shoulder. “You need to work on your sprinting.”
I kissed the top of her head.
Powell was out cold. Meryl chanted lines of essence in the air that dropped on Powell and twined around her. Meryl nodded as she examined her work. “One good binding deserves another.”
Powell’s eyes fluttered open. She sat up and screamed as the binding spell cinched, sending shock waves through her.
“Oh, shut up, Winny,” Meryl said. She gathered the ribbons of the spell in her fingers and twisted them into a knot, tugged at them to make sure the spell held.
A sharp point pierced the skin at the base of my skull. I froze.
“Do not move, please. I can easily sever your spinal cord before you even realize it.” Viten. We had run out of time. He was close, his breath on my ear, a smooth honey voice that did not sound the least bit nervous. I never heard him coming.
Powell struggled into a seated position, letting out growls of pain. “Liddell!”
“Surprised and happy to see you, m’love,” he said. “Will someone do the honors and release her?”
I had my sword and the spear. Viten made the mistake of closing the distance between us, which made me more dangerous to him. He probably had sensed he had two druids to deal with, not knowing one of them had no abilities.
“Do it,” I said. As long as they didn’t bind Meryl again, I wasn’t worried. Yet. Meryl looked like she was going to argue. With a shake of her head, she released the spell. Powell jumped up and locked her arm around Meryl’s neck, pressing a knife to her neck. It was the Breton dagger from the Guildhouse. The real one.
“Let us go, and no one gets hurt,” I said.
“I don’t think I can do that,” Viten said.
He scratched the tip of his sword along my neck as he circled around me, and I met Liddell Viten — con artist and murderer — face-to-face. He stood a foot shorter than me with the pale complexion all kobolds had. His features were smoother than average, which made glamours that much easier to use. For a dead guy, he didn’t look any the worse for wear. He wore fine clothing, archaic in a vaguely Teutonic court style, but made from an expensive-looking material. Being Dead seemed to agree with him.
He compressed his already-thin lips together until they disappeared. “Drop your weapons, please.”
At least he was polite. “No,” I said.
Laughter danced in Meryl’s eyes, and she tossed me a sending. Go for his sword when I move. She didn’t give me a chance to think about it. She activated her body shield at full strength. Its sudden appearance tipped the dagger away from her neck. With impressive speed, Meryl dropped back on her hands and let loose with a flying round kick, knocking Powell off her feet. Distracted, Viten turned toward them, and I parried his sword out of his hand with the spear. Meryl stomped on Powell’s arm and grabbed the dagger. It was over in seconds.
With smooth grace, Viten leaped out of reach. He brought his own body shield on, weak in comparison to Meryl’s, but his fingers were charged with the unnatural essence of TirNaNog.
Meryl prodded Powell. “Tell him why I knew you weren’t going to stab me with the dagger.”
Powell glared up at her. “It’s a soul blade, Liddell.”
Meryl kept her eye on Powell. “If you used it to kill me, the souls would have released and wrecked your little plan to get him out of here. You always assumed that you knew more than I did, Winny. You were a lousy boss, by the way.”
The strange mix of surprise and tenderness that crossed Viten’s face fascinated me in a revolting kind of way. He met Powell’s eyes with an intensity that could only be interpreted as love. The realization that this woman had killed two people to create a soul blade for him so that he could kill yet another person to get out of TirNaNog touched him just as if she had just told him she made his favorite dinner.
Powell flashed a fervent smile. “Kill her, Liddell. She can’t hurt me.”
“Oh, I don’t have to kill you to hurt you, Winny,” said Meryl. She shoved Powell toward Viten. I don’t know who was more surprised, me or Powell. Meryl twirled the knife and smiled. “I’ve already killed you once, Viten. Let’s make a wager. I bet that I can kill you with this knife before you can get a shot off. Consider this before you decide: I will only die, but you, my friend, will be obliterated by the souls in the knife. That’s how this thing works against the Dead.”
“She’s lying,” Powell snarled.
Meryl arched an eyebrow. “You think? I’m willing to stake my life on it.”
Powell drew herself, haughty and assured. “Then I will kill you, Meryl.”
“You took me by surprise, Winny. I will win one-on-one with you,” she said.
Powell looked smug. “I’ve already died once for Liddell. I’ll do it again. The Guild will protect my soul stone as long as it thinks it can arrest me. I’ll come back here next Samhain and destroy you.”
I pulled Powell’s soul stone from my pocket. “Would that be this stone?”
Powell let out a growl of anger from deep in her throat. Viten lifted his hands, charging them with the pale essence of TirNaNog.
“It’s over, Viten. Step away.”
Viten set his jaw with smug assurance. “Kill her,” he said.
Meryl and I exchanged glances. “What?” I asked.
“I said kill her.” Viten pulled Powell into a tight embrace, nuzzling the side of her head and murmuring in her ear. “I have missed you every day, m’love, dreamed of you every night. Not having you at my side has been a torment. Every minute spent here is a minute I wished you could see this place.”
Meryl rolled her eyes. “I think I’m going to be ill.”
She looked stunned when I tossed the stone to Viten. “We don’t have time for this. The fairy ring is surrounded by cops and Guild agents. She’ll be detained as soon as she crosses the veil.”
Powell clutched at Viten’s coat. “The knife, love, get the knife.”
He smiled down at her and caressed her face. “We have no need of it. I appreciate what you’ve done, m’love. I do. I truly do. But you’ve accomplished more than you realized. I have some power here. Here is where I wish to stay. It’s beautiful, Rhonwen. It’s glorious. I don’t want to go back. You mean everything to me. I want you to stay. Here. Always. With me.”
She stared up at him, tears in her eyes. “Yes, love. Yes.”
They kissed with the pent-up passion of ten years apart. White essence burst in Viten’s hand followed by a loud crackling. With a sharp gasp, Powell pulled her lips away from his. She struggled for breath, her chest heaving as the dust of her soul stone poured through Viten’s fingers. Her mouth broke into an ecstatic smile, then her eyes rolled in her head. Viten caught her as she went limp and lowered her to the ground. He cradled her across his chest, smoothing her hair back from her face, a repulsive, satisfied smile on his lips. He kissed her again. “Tomorrow, m’love, tomorrow you will wake up here, and we will spend eternity together.”