Free Infernal Ties by Holly Evans Page A

ginger thing pounced on me from somewhere near the entrance, knocking me to the floor and pushing all the air from my lungs as I landed on the cold stone. I tucked my knees up as much as I could and kicked it off, sending it flying into the far wall. I barely had a chance to get into a crouching position before another tabby was swiping at my upper arm.  
    I hit it in the side of the head with the hilt of one blade before I slashed its throat with my left hand. The hissing and screeching noises were deafening. Everything became a blur of pain, fur, and more unbearable noise. The cats worked as a team; when I had one almost pinned down, another sank its teeth into my leg. I had to keep twisting and slashing at them until finally no more came for me. I was panting for breath when I finally dispatched the last of the witch’s guardians; I cursed Serena for not bothering to warn me about them. My leather jacket was ruined, but it had protected me from of the more vicious attacks.
    My breathing returned to normal relatively quickly, but the pain only increased as I leaned over the stone sarcophagus. The moon had already risen by the time I pressed my shoulder against the lid and braced my foot against the far wall to give me some extra leverage. It moved with startling ease, causing me to almost fall on top of the skeleton that inhabited the space. I tried to hold back my revulsion at the task and made quick work of cutting off the middle finger. It was still covered in thin leather; my gag reflex was difficult to control. Once my prize was safely tucked away in the inside pocket of my jacket, I tried to pull the lid back in place.  
    A gurgling groaning sound came from the entrance. Fabric brushing over concrete caught my attention. I continued tugging on the lid as hard as I could. The scent of honey and lilies began to fill the air. I knew that necromancers were hard to kill; I wasn’t even sure if they could technically be killed, as they weren’t entirely alive. Shaking my head, I stopped the line of thought before it could go any further.
    When the lid was halfway back in place, I turned and saw the necromancer leaning against the doorway. His skin had turned the colour of old ash and his eyes were almost white. His cracked tongue slithered across his thin lips as his eyes roved over the skeleton next to me. I ground my teeth and pushed past the increasing levels of pain; whatever patience I had started with had vanished into the ether. I moved as quickly as I could and shoved him back into the wall with a soft crunching thud. His hand began moving, no doubt to summon some undead monstrosity; a quick blow to his wrist soon put a stop to it. Magic users need their hands to weave the magic, that was one of the first things Serena had taught me. Hedgewitches and alchemists use physical objects, they produce powders and such, but pure magic requires hand gestures. Cut off the hands, and remove their ability to work magic. I held his gaze as I pinned him to the wall by his throat with one hand and hacked off his dominant hand with the other. His eyes bulged as he squirmed against me; I thanked the gods for his being frail and old.  
    His skin moved more than it should have done under my hands; it slipped over his muscles and made me want to drop him and shower in bleach for a few hours. I thrust my blade deep into his stomach and dragged it up until I hit his sternum, but I didn’t stop there. I wasn’t risking him returning for round three. I was in agony, my twin was still missing, and I was tired of being screwed around. Every minute that passed, every distraction, was a potential nail in Quin’s coffin. I pushed the blade up through his diaphragm and dug around until it pierced his heart. He went limp almost immediately.  
    I threw his body into the nearby bushes and assumed someone, or something, would dispose of it by sunrise. When I returned to finish locking the mausoleum back up, I found the door closed and the