Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

PIPER

Piper lunged to catch Lyre’s shoulders as he crumpled. She eased him onto the carpet.

“Well, well, well,” a sweet female voice purred. “Isn’t that adorable?”

Piper jerked upright. At the other end of the hall, halfway inside a bedroom, a beautiful woman stood. She had a tranquilizer gun in her hands, the same kind as the haemons downstairs, but the predatory glint in her blue eyes was all daemon.

Piper rose to her feet, stepped over Lyre’s still form, and assumed a defensive stance.

Tossing the tranquilizer gun aside, the woman smiled cattily at Piper. “So you’re the Head Consul’s daughter. My, you really do have a weakness for incubi, don’t you?”

Piper stiffened.

“Micah told me all about you,” the daemon added. “But that’s not why I’m here. I want the Sahar.”

Piper struggled to keep her derisive expression in place. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Where is it?”

“Haven’t got a clue.”

The daemon smirked. “Is that so? If you’re being truthful, I’ll be very disappointed. You don’t want that.”

“What’s really disappointing is how stupid you are to think that whoever stole the Sahar from the Consulate would bring it back.”

The daemon’s mouth flattened. “Give me the Sahar, and I promise not to hurt you.”

Piper snorted, concealing the zing of fear in her gut. She’d faced off with daemons in the Consulate dozens of times—but always with the rules of the Consulate protecting her. There was nothing protecting her now.

She nudged Lyre with the toe of her boot, but he didn’t so much as twitch. Since the female daemon didn’t seem interested in him, Piper did the only thing that made sense: she turned and ran.

The daemon hissed like an angry cat and charged after Piper. Bolting to the stairs, Piper jumped them two at a time and landed amidst the debris in the foyer—and the daemon leaped the last six steps.

Piper reeled out of the way. As she scrambled back, she stooped and yanked a dagger from the hidden sheath in her boot.

The woman smiled tightly as Piper adjusted her grip on the hilt. Her heart pounded. She’d trained with daggers for years, but she’d never used a live blade on another person.

She and the daemon circled each other slowly, footsteps crunching on the rubble. Piper’s ankle wobbled on a piece of wood.

The daemon sprang. Piper slashed the knife defensively, forcing the daemon to evade left. In a move she’d practiced a hundred times, Piper flipped the blade in her hand and plunged it toward the woman’s open flank.

A strike that could kill.

Hesitation flooded her in an icy wave that numbed her muscles, and her attack faltered. The tip of the blade caught the daemon’s shirt, tearing the fabric as she jumped clear.

Cursing under her breath, Piper rushed in again to maintain her advantage. The woman raised an arm to block the dagger, and this time, Piper swung her blade with all her strength. It slammed against an invisible barrier. The unexpected impact jarred the hilt out of her hand, and the dagger clattered to the floor.

With magic sizzling in the air from her shield spell, the daemon tsked mockingly. “Do you think a little toy like that will save you?”

An excellent point. Piper needed a bigger weapon.

She kicked a hunk of wood at the daemon, then turned and sprinted into the north wing, whipping past the parlor and infirmary. She ran into the next door, turned the handle, and fell onto the mats on the other side. She rolled as the daemon pounced, landing right where Piper had been.

Piper scrambled up, the familiar scent of wood, leather, and sweat filling her nose. The sparring gym was the size of a swimming pool, covered in mats—and, most importantly, the nearest wall was lined with various weapons and sparring tools.

The guns weren’t loaded, so she reached for a bladed staff, but the daemon pounced again. Piper dove, rolling away, and came to her feet right beside a rack of practice swords. She grabbed a bokken and whirled to face the daemon.

The woman stopped a few feet away, eyebrows shooting up at Piper’s choice. “A wooden sword?”

“A wooden katana,” Piper corrected. She hefted the weapon. It might not cut, but it was solid, heavy wood. Better than a short dagger. Also, she could bash the daemon unconscious without killing her. Probably.

The woman raised her hand and flicked her fingers casually.

The spell knocked Piper on her ass, but she scrambled onto her feet and charged. The daemon smirked and lifted one hand to catch the bokken. Piper changed direction and swung low, slamming the wooden blade into the daemon’s upper thigh. She yelped and staggered back.

Piper swung again, aiming for the woman’s head, but even incompetent daemons had faster reflexes than humans. The woman ducked and snapped out an arm. Her fist hit Piper in the shoulder, knocking her sideways. Before Piper could recover, the daemon kicked the back of her knee. Piper fell into a roll and came up again facing the daemon.

The woman slowly advanced. “Not good enough, little girl.”

Silently agreeing, Piper twisted her mouth in a sneer. “What would you know? You’ve probably never had a real fight in your life.” She made her voice go high-pitched. “What if you broke a nail? Oh no!”

The daemon stopped and smiled slowly. “Why don’t I show you my real nails?”

She raised both hands. Her body shimmered, her clothing melting away, her skin changing, her hair lengthening. Then her glamour was gone, revealing a daemon with a wild mane of tawny hair, a spotted pattern running across her skin, and pelts of fur for clothing—skimpy clothing. Below the knee, her legs turned into paws covered in golden, black-spotted fur.

And, of course, long, curved claws tipped each of her fingers.

“Umm,” Piper breathed, licking her lips nervously. “Sphinx?”

The daemon grinned, showing off her feline fangs. Then she sprang—and she was fast . Way faster than before. Piper swung her sword, but it barely clipped the sphinx’s shoulder before Piper was bowled over. She landed hard on the mats and rolled frantically as the sphinx tried to stomp on her with a clawed foot.

Jumping up—now even farther from the real weapons—Piper scoured the room for an idea, because if she didn’t get one soon, she would be shredded to ribbons. The sphinx was toying with her, probably hoping Piper would give up the Sahar after a few bruises.

As she backed away from the sphinx’s prowl, her gaze darted from a punching bag, past a row of life-size foam mannequins, and stopped on a climbing rope that hung from the high ceiling.

The daemon leaped six feet to crash into Piper again. She deflected the claws with her bokken but hit the mats harder than her last fall. Kneeing the daemon in the gut, Piper flipped the woman off her, then staggered up and rushed toward a punching bag.

“Where’re you going, little girl?” the sphinx taunted as she dashed after Piper with quick, easy steps.

Piper ducked behind the punching bag, and the sphinx slashed her claws across the leather, releasing a cascade of sand onto the floor. Piper kept going, dodging behind a foam man on a pole. The sphinx tore its head off. Piper sprinted for the climbing rope, the daemon right on her heels.

Grabbing the rope, she swung away as the sphinx tried to grab her. Piper swung back feet first, making the sphinx duck. As she swung past again, she twisted a loop around the woman’s neck. Dropping down onto the mats, Piper threw all her weight against the rope.

The loop snapped tight, momentarily lifting the sphinx off her feet. Piper strained to keep tension on the rope as the daemon clawed helplessly at her neck. When her efforts weakened, Piper released the rope, breathing hard.

The sphinx crumpled to the mats, clutching her throat and wheezing. She was down but wouldn’t stay that way for long.

Panting, Piper backed rapidly toward the exit with one hand pressed to her chest—the ring box was still in its spot. Time to get the hell out of there. Mentally running through options on how to haul an unconscious incubus out of the Consulate, she spun to face the door—and found Lyre leaning against the doorframe, drowsy and rumpled but conscious.

“Having fun?” He glanced at the coughing sphinx, then back to Piper. “I’m not really into fur. By the way, is this yours?”

He held up her dropped dagger. Piper grabbed it, then shoved him backward through the doorway. The female daemon was dragging herself to her feet, and Piper was super not interested in a second round.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” she told Lyre in a rush. “Can we please leave now?”

She pushed into a jog toward the kitchen, and Lyre obligingly matched her pace.

“I’m glad I’m awake too,” he said, not nearly worried enough about all the potential enemies they could run into. “Guess that tranquilizer was the wrong formula for a daemon.”

“Fortunate, but don’t get shot again.”

“Your wish is my command.”

They reached the now empty kitchen and had almost made it to the back door when a sharp exclamation sounded somewhere behind them. She and Lyre turned toward the sound.

Another shout—then a shriek like an angry feline.

“I think the haemons ran into the sphinx,” Piper guessed.

“I think so too.”

She and Lyre exchanged a look. Then they zipped through the Consulate’s back door and into the dark night.