Burn

Jeanna shrugged, unconcerned. “They can’t step inside the shield. Nothing can penetrate it.”

“If you kill me, Knox will kill you.”

“If he finds me, yes he will. But it won’t make you any less dead, will it?”

She had a point.

Grinning, Jeanna held up her dagger. “Like it? I bought it from the practitioners.”

“That explains why it looks more like a Harry Potter wand.”

A scowl that promised retribution. “It’s enchanted. The handle is the bone of a demon who died in glorious agony. Each time I strike you with it, you’ll hear a cry of his pain.”

“Yeah” – Harper smiled tauntingly – “if you can slice me.”

Jeanna rushed Harper, pumped full of anticipation. With the swiftness of any sphinx, Harper retrieved her blade from her boot, infused it with hellfire, and parried the blow. The blades clanged as they met. Jeanna danced backwards, eyes wide.

Harper smirked. “You didn’t think you were the only one who had a blade, did you?” Apparently so. Jeanna had thought this would be a quick win, an easy method of payback. Wrong. Harper was taught combat and fencing by imps. They fought dirty. They cheated. They were damn bloodthirsty. “You sure you still want to do this?”

Jeanna’s expression answered that. Keeping her muscles loose, Harper lunged at her; went for every weak spot, including the face, neck, and chest. She was quick. Precise. Didn’t stop moving, kept up the pressure. The blades clanged as they repeatedly clashed.

There was no hesitation in Jeanna. She parried and thrust with ease, all the while careful not to let Harper’s hands touch her. It quickly became clear she was confident and, worse, very good with a dagger. She didn’t make the error most did and try to hit the blade; she tried to hit her opponent.

Moments later, she was successful. The dagger stung, slicing cleanly through Harper’s skin like a knife through butter. For some reason, the first cut was always a shock. What stunned her more was the agonizing male cry that rang through her head. Fucking enchanted piece of shit.

Harper heard the practitioners gathering close like vultures. The only thing keeping them back was Jeanna’s shield…which meant this situation was fucking hopeless, really. Killing Jeanna would feel great and would save her from being impaled on a dagger, but then she’d no longer be protected from the practitioners by the shield.

Determination flooding every vein, Harper went at Jeanna again. She didn’t let up, ensuring she was in constant motion, refusing to allow the dead male’s cries to distract her. The smell of burning flesh filled the air as the hellfire coating Harper’s blade ate at Jeanna’s wounds, pleasing her inner demon. “Looking a little like a leper there, Jeanna.”

“You will die for this.” She slammed her open palm into Harper’s face.

Shit! Her eyes watered, making it hard to see. Jeanna took instant advantage and sliced Harper’s chest. She winced – both at the pain and the male scream that reverberated through her head. Fuck, that cut was deep; she could feel blood pooling to the surface but she ignored the urge to examine the wound. If she looked away from a smug-looking Jeanna, she was dead.

A tendril of fear curled around her. She was going to lose. Jeanna was too strong, too fast. There was no way Harper could defeat her, there was no—

Pushing aside that artificial fear, Harper swung her hips and kick her opponent hard in the stomach. Jeanna retaliated with a swipe of her blade. Harper ducked and came up on Jeanna’s side, stabbing deep. Blood bloomed, soaking her t-shirt. “Now we’re even.”

Hissing with anger as her flesh sizzled, Jeanna tossed a succession of hellfire orbs. One hit Harper’s leg and another skimmed her temple.

“You like to throw shit, huh?” Adrenalin pounding through her, Harper yanked one of the metal hair sticks from her bun, infused it with hellfire, and hurled it at Jeanna. It buried itself in the bitch’s shoulder.

With a shocked, angry cry, Jeanna yanked it out. She snarled as her flesh burned. “That really, really hurt.” Um, it was supposed to.

The taste of trepidation and anxiety suddenly filled Harper’s mouth. Jeanna was clearly redoubling her efforts to swamp her in fear. Grinding her teeth, Harper fought it. But it was hard; she could feel her psychic energy waning – she still wasn’t fully recovered psychically from Isla’s bite. Still…“It won’t work, Jeanna. You won’t reduce me to the blubbering wreck you were in the restrooms.” She blinked at the bitch’s curse. “Something I said?”

Jeanna struck again. As Harper parried each blow, she could sense the practitioners watching, waiting for her to fail and die at Jeanna’s hands…or to win and then be vulnerable to them. Either way, Harper was a loser to some extent.

Twisting slightly, Jeanna evaded one of Harper’s blows and kicked her hard in the thigh. Shit, that was gonna bruise, and Knox was gonna be pissed.

Ignoring the pain and the sweat trickling down her temples, Harper made an effort to regulate her rapid, shallow breathing. She was running out of steam, physically and psychically. It didn’t help that she was bleeding from cuts and stab wounds on her cheek, chest, and arms. Not that Jeanna looked much better. Her flesh was peeling and blistering in several places, thanks to the hellfire. The stench of it was awful. “God, Jeanna, at this point you’re just nauseating.”

Too deep in her anger, Jeanna began to strike out wildly. She should know better than that. But apparently Jacques was right – she treasured her ego. Harper slammed her foot into Jeanna’s knee, causing her leg to buckle. Then she lunged, thrusting the blade deep into the bitch’s gut. Seemingly stunned, the nightmare dropped her dagger as she inhaled sharply, eyes wide. Harper twisted her blade before withdrawing it. Then she thrust it into Jeanna’s neck just as she slammed her hand into Jeanna’s solar plexus, sending soul-deep pain rippling through her.