By Colleen Foley
Voodoo boy had left the tools of his
crafty trade all over. I had no compunction about using them. I
snatched up a knife on my way through the kitchen, and drove it into the
neck of the first guardian I met. My marks flared, screamed power and
pain as its head imploded, then faded again.
Not the knife,
then. The magic was in me. Seth had combined both malefaction and
faltering wards to give me magical hand grenades. With our luck, this
wouldn’t last long. In the meantime, I grinned like a mad man with no
comprehension of defeat.