Chapter 5 #2
There was definitely something above them.
Whatever it was, its aura raked over her skin like coals.
If not for the elevator muzak she might be able to hear more.
A quick burst of magic through the speaker and a few sparks later, the only sound was the hushed rasp of their breathing: Pippa’s slow and even, Maxim’s emerging as erratic, warm puffs that brushed her knuckles.
In the silence, there came a soft ping from above the car, then the creak of shifting metal. More creaks followed, each one moving slightly across the ceiling.
Maxim settled his hands on her waist. A firm pressure, and although his touch caught Pippa off guard, it was a reassuring one. Was his first impulse really to hold on to her as if he could protect her? Was he being . . . sweet?
Pippa mentally shook herself and began to pull on the magic in the elevator’s now stagnant air. She should be preparing magic, not suppressing a giggle over some pompous asshole’s idea of chivalry.
Overhead, the creaking stopped, and for a lovely second it seemed as if it had all been one great overreaction.
Then the entire elevator lurched and one of the illuminated ceiling panels collapsed as someone fell inside.
Pippa caught sight of a bald head before she shoved Maxim farther into the corner.
It wasn’t a very successful action, since the elevator was just big enough for four people to stand comfortably or fifteen people to get very intimate with each other’s deodorant choices.
Maxim pushed against her in his attempt to reach the person on the floor, who was wearing a maintenance jumpsuit and boasted a set of extremely hirsute arms. Maxim was oblivious to what was blindingly obvious to Pippa: this elevator hadn’t been out of order and therefore no one up to innocent deeds would be atop it.
Before he could wriggle out of Pippa’s hold, the person stood, brushed debris off their clothing, and began to molt.
What was once a maintenance uniform sloughed off over scaled, ridged shoulders. The faded fabric fell along with a decent amount of pale, hairy skin, and pooled together around the intruder’s hoofed feet like slime. The stench of sulfur and burnt oil filled the elevator.
Muscles crackled as the creature stretched and expanded, freed from the enclosure that had allowed it to travel unnoticed into the building.
No horns adorned its head, but ruddy purple skin stretched taut over its skull and over the space where its nose should have been.
Wide-set black eyes narrowed as they focused on Pippa.
No, not a person at all. This was only surprising to Maxim, who made a nervous “Umph?” into her hand.
Pippa disentangled herself from the corner and faced the demon with her arms spread wide.
Hold on, was she shielding Maxim? Oh, that wasn’t a fun prospect, what with her hating him and all. In addition, “hatred” didn’t feel like the right word anymore.
Fuck, no, why was she thinking about that when she was half an elevator away from a demon?
The demon snarled, revealing a mouthful of teeth that had been filed down into short little points, and pulled a blade from a scabbard at its belt.
As long as Pippa’s forearm, it gleamed green beneath the flickering fluorescents.
The demon inhaled deep, and as its chest expanded, dark veins appeared under its skin as if the creature were a peeled plum.
“The witch,” it said. Its voice was as coarse as two cinder blocks scraping against one another.
Without another word, it lunged.
Pippa drew a handful of magic into her and sent it out her palm, blasting the demon off its feet and into the opposite wall. The elevator lurched, and she tried not to think about the empty space beneath her feet. Close behind her, Maxim cursed; he didn’t seem able to avoid such thoughts.
The demon recovered quickly, spinning about and hurling the fallen piece of ceiling tile at her, which she redirected so it glanced off the creature’s ridged shoulder instead of cleaving her head from her body.
“Oh,” Maxim said, his words high and strained, “you’re not on a first name basis with this one?”
Pippa threw herself forward and pivoted so the demon’s next swing was as far away from Maxim as the elevator’s floor plan would allow.
“No,” she managed. “Not”—she threw magic at the demon, then cursed as it dodged—“this one.”
Purple skin, no nose, that hooked bump on the inside of its wrist: Boe demons were usually used as mercenaries by those who wished a dirty job to be done fast.
Sometime soon, she would have to ruminate on why she was a target for murder.
The green-tinged knife passed far too close to Pippa’s stomach.
In her haste to back out of the way, her slippered flat caught on the edge of the ceiling panel and she crashed to the ground, rolling just as the knife sank into the floor beside her.
It caught, and the demon tugged on the knife until the muscles in its arms bulged.
The remaining lights in the ceiling flashed and threw out sparks that fluttered into the air like short-lived fireflies. Still lying on her back, Pippa pulled on those sparks, drew them in close, and nourished them until they grew.
Right as the demon yanked the knife from the mass of steel and carpet, she let the power loose.
A blast of energy, white-hot and furious, erupted out of her hands and up at the demon’s face and the ceiling above.
The creature lunged out of the way with a shriek.
The elevator lurched and wires screamed, and when the smoke cleared, Pippa saw that she had blown the entire roof off the elevator.
Her head swam with the effort it had taken to channel so much magic.
She struggled to one elbow. The smell of burning skin filled the small space.
The demon was on its knees, hunched and clutching its face.
When it turned to Pippa again, those awful filed teeth were visible through a smoking hole in its cheek.
It paused then, looking at the corner of the elevator where Maxim was creeping along the wall in the direction of a metal beam that had fallen.
Pippa lashed out with her foot. She was aiming for its knee, but thanks to the respectable and restrictive pencil skirt, she instead struck one shining shin.
Her heel instantly began to throb. The demon’s attention was snared, at least. It whirled on her and grabbed her ankle, pulling her across the debris-strewn floor toward itself even as she kicked out.
The knife came up.
Maxim yelled.
She couldn’t roll, couldn’t dodge.
Pippa reached out to the magic above her head, and as the shining knife came down over her stomach, she grabbed that magic and pulled. She felt her body slide backward, yet despite it all, she hadn’t moved far enough, so when the knife fell, it sank deep into her thigh.
And oh, the pain.
Pippa screamed, tears blurring her vision.
She had been stabbed before, of course, but by little switchblades carried by upstart fiends. This was different. This was horrible. This was as if a horde of wasps had swarmed into her thigh and been followed in by flames.
Through the haze, she heard Maxim yell again, followed by a heavy thumping. She had to focus. Had to return to the creaking elevator, even though every single inch of her body wanted her to float off into oblivion.
So she drew on that pain, used it to focus and lure herself back into awareness. She began to see metal walls, thin carpeting, the knife sticking out of her leg, the hilt flickering in the unsteady light.
And Maxim.
Pippa had assumed she would look over and see him in a crumpled heap. He had yelled, after all, and a yell like that didn’t usually mean success.
It was with some surprise, then, that she took in what was happening: Maxim was upright, very much alive, and fighting the demon in a way that implied he was doing quite well, actually.
As she watched, he dropped beneath the creature’s wild swing, used its own momentum to shove it face-first into a wall, then rapidly and repeatedly kneed a spot on its back where a human kidney would be.
Pippa gaped. Who the actual shit was this guy?
The demon, who did not have kidneys, shrugged off this attempt at injury. It wheeled about and barreled toward Maxim.
It dawned on Pippa that this was a fantastic distraction and the perfect time to char this creature into oblivion. Fighting the pain in her leg, she reached out to the magic around her . . .
And felt nothing.
She reached out again, harder. Nothing. Panic scoured her veins and whined in her ears as she tried over and over and over to feel the slightest brush of magic on her fingers.
The world’s power used to float around her, coursing along wind currents and nestling between bricks, ever present in the trees and the earth.
She would simply nudge it with her intent and, as long as she had enough strength to channel it, it would respond.
The harder she pushed, the more she felt as if she was in a hastily constructed room trying to force her hands through the walls. Magic waited outside, if she could only find a way to get to it. If she could press harder—
Maxim had managed to avoid the demon’s punches, but one quick jab caught him on the side of the jaw and he spun to the ground.
The demon’s attention landed on Pippa, and she forgot everything about rooms and walls and lost magic as it stalked toward her.
She dragged herself backward, her stabbed leg useless and agonizing with the effort to move.
“I don’t . . .” she said between pained gasps. “I don’t suppose I can convince you not to do what you’re . . . going to do.”
“No.” It stood over Pippa, one leg on either side of her hips. “And do not think to beg. I find it distasteful.” It reached down with one long arm, grabbed her neck, and hoisted her into the air.