Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            “He’s going to die,” Lee said, safe in his circle as I paced forward.

            “You first,” I said, then threw a pool ball at him, following it with a new spell.

            Lee incinerated the eight ball with a puff of magic, and then my spell hit him. Gasping, he staggered away as his magic rose to beat the spell out. He was out of his circle.

            Hands reaching, I lunged, plowing into him and sending us both to the floor. “You can’t win, Lee,” I said as I clawed my way up his body as he fought me. “You aren’t nearly pissed enough.”

            I reached for his head, and he hit my arm, shoving me off him. Wiggling, he stretched for a wand stuck in his sleeve. “Teneo!” he shouted, and I dodged the arc of power, feeling it as it hit my quickly invoked circle—and burn, and burn, and burn, until it broke through.

            It was coven magic, and I tried to douse it, failing as fire and ice tingled over me.

            Black coils of smoke wrapped up and around me, imprisoning me in a grip that tightened with my every movement. I was bound by legal, dark magic, and I lurched to fall against Ivy’s piano. Caught.

            “Where is Trent!” I shouted, furious, and Lee grinned, his confidence restored.

            “Cold, wet, and out of your reach,” he said. “Probably treading water by now, if he’s still alive. I hope he is. I really want to see him living in a hovel and visiting his girls for an hour on the weekends.”

            He is alive. Fear for Trent twisted my gut. Panicked, I wiggled and twisted, gasping when I felt my balance shift, and I toppled from the piano to hit the floor with a thump. His shoes inched closer, and I hated him as I heard the familiar sound of his phone taking a picture.

            I needed a knife. I needed a magical knife.

            And then I had it. “Hey, Lee,” I said, and he looked up from his cell phone. Reserare, Jariathjackjunisjumoke, I thought, jerking as my mind fell into the vault. The presence of long-dead demons seemed to start, rising up at my hatred of Lee, clamoring for me to take what they made, use it to kill those who threatened what I loved. Ugly, unspeakable curses, but that’s not what I wanted, and as they pushed and shoved to force a way into my mind, I reached for the memory of Al and the dagger he had made from a curse. It was here. It had to be.

            Quaere! I thought, and in my mind, a dagger made of light exploded into existence. Serve me as you serve Algaliarept. I offer you the blood of a total ass.

            But I truly didn’t need to ask for its help. I had summoned it and it was mine. My eyes flashed open, and satisfaction was a warm balm as I saw Al’s dagger in my hand, called from the demons’ vault. All I had to do was angle the blade to touch the black coils withering around me like smoke, and with the sound of nails on stone, the coven-sanctioned dark spell was overwhelmed and it parted.

            I was free.

            I spun, rising from a crouch and into a stand in one smooth move as Lee gaped at me.

            He’s not afraid. Not yet. Dumbass. “You might have shared that picture a little too soon,” I said, and my grip tightened on the hazy dagger made of energy.

            “Al gave you access to the vault?” he whispered, and I sprang forward, pinning him to Ivy’s piano.

            Lee snarled as my arm went under his chin, pressing on his neck. “Where is Trent?”

            Lightning sprang from his fingers and palms as he tried to force my grip from him. Fiery tiger teeth pierced my arm, and I welcomed them, grinning wildly as I took his energy and turned it against him. Yelping, he dropped the line. “Where is Trent!”

            He shoved himself away from the piano, and we fell. I never let go, hooking my foot behind his and spinning us around to land on him. His head hit the floor with a thunk, and I pressed my arm against his throat again, the dagger hovering over his neck as he tried to focus.

            “Where. Is. Trent,” I intoned, Quaere’s blue flame gleaming on his neck.

            “Three days,” he snarled up at me. “You left me there for three days.”

            I pulled the knife from him in shock. “You put him in the camp’s well?” I said, and then he shoved me. I rolled to my feet, Al’s dagger in my grip. “The well was dry!” I shouted, my heels edging that dark pentagram. “It wasn’t as if you had to tread water!”