Read Online Demonbane (Book 4) by Ben Cassidy - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ben Cassidy
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her eye.
She moved a stack of paper.
There it was, cold and red and black yet glowing at the same time, almost in a sickening way.
She reached in and took hold of the Soulbinder with a trembling hand, then lifted the pendant out by its long golden chain.
It seemed somehow more monstrous and evil than the last time she had seen it, back in the pagan temple outside of Stefgarten.
“Got you,” she whispered.
Kara started to rise.
Something hard cracked into the back of her head.
Kara saw a flash of white and a swirl of purple before everything went black.
Chapter 5
Maklavir ran.
His booted feet slipped and tore through the deep drifts of snow that covered the ground between the mansion and the stables. Snow pelted him relentlessly in the face, driving down hard from the overcast night sky.
Everything was going to the Void. It always did. It really was beyond exasperating. For once, just once, he’d like to see a situation resolved without people dying right and left.
But Maklavir had seen Kendril in action too many times to believe the dying was anywhere close to being finished for the evening.
Funny, he actually seemed to remember enjoying Candle Ice when he was younger.
Maklavir made it to the stable doors. He took a second to catch his breath. He shivered in the cold air. The frigid wind cut right through his stylish yet impractical clothes.
Curse his good fashion sense. He should have known the evening would end with pistols and sword thrusts. A suit of armor would have been more appropriate attire.
Maklavir reached for the handle to the door. Joseph’s life was in his hands. Whatever vile poison he had in his system, the antidote was undoubtedly in that herb bag of his.
He opened the door.
A panel of wood exploded almost in his face, torn to pieces by a musket ball. Splinters of wood showered out from the door.
Maklavir reacted instantly with the reflexes that he had honed throughout his life as a diplomat.
He yelped and leapt back from the door.
There was a shout from his right.
Maklavir swung his head around.
There were two guards running towards him. One held a smoking musket in his hands.
Maklavir suddenly wished he had the sword. The one he had taken off the guard back in the house, the one he had given to Kendril in the kitchen.
The sword Kendril had refused to use.
Why on Zanthora hadn’t he grabbed it again?
Maklavir didn’t take time to answer his own question. He leapt into the stable, then pulled the shattered door shut behind him.
“We found her, my lady.” The guard saluted, then nodded back down the hallway. “Down there, the master bedroom.”
There were several guards in the hallway, searching every last room, corridor, and closet on the second floor.
Bronwyn had to admire their efficiency.
She turned to the man who had spoken to her. “Has Baron Dutraad regained consciousness?”
The man shook his head. “Not yet.”
Bronwyn nodded as she walked quickly down the hall. Captain Mayer and the other guards were downstairs, rounding up the rest of the Ghostwalker’s friends, or at least whomever Nadine hadn’t already cut into ribbons.
It was so nice to have a fanatical, cult-trained assassin at one’s disposal. Bronwyn didn’t know how she had ever got on without one.
She stepped into the master bedroom.
The steam-powered glow-globes had been turned back on, illuminating the room in their harsh white light. Candles were more traditional for the festivities of the evening, but then at this point the gathering downstairs was largely a farce. Bronwyn wasn’t even sure if it was still going on or not. She didn’t really care.
She stepped up towards the strongbox, and looked down at the beautiful redhead who was sprawled unconscious on the floor. Pieces of a shattered vase were scattered on the floor around her head.
“I-I-I th-thought she was a r-r-robber.” Dutraad’s wife Mina, in nothing but a dressing gown with a shawl thrown over her
She moved a stack of paper.
There it was, cold and red and black yet glowing at the same time, almost in a sickening way.
She reached in and took hold of the Soulbinder with a trembling hand, then lifted the pendant out by its long golden chain.
It seemed somehow more monstrous and evil than the last time she had seen it, back in the pagan temple outside of Stefgarten.
“Got you,” she whispered.
Kara started to rise.
Something hard cracked into the back of her head.
Kara saw a flash of white and a swirl of purple before everything went black.
Chapter 5
Maklavir ran.
His booted feet slipped and tore through the deep drifts of snow that covered the ground between the mansion and the stables. Snow pelted him relentlessly in the face, driving down hard from the overcast night sky.
Everything was going to the Void. It always did. It really was beyond exasperating. For once, just once, he’d like to see a situation resolved without people dying right and left.
But Maklavir had seen Kendril in action too many times to believe the dying was anywhere close to being finished for the evening.
Funny, he actually seemed to remember enjoying Candle Ice when he was younger.
Maklavir made it to the stable doors. He took a second to catch his breath. He shivered in the cold air. The frigid wind cut right through his stylish yet impractical clothes.
Curse his good fashion sense. He should have known the evening would end with pistols and sword thrusts. A suit of armor would have been more appropriate attire.
Maklavir reached for the handle to the door. Joseph’s life was in his hands. Whatever vile poison he had in his system, the antidote was undoubtedly in that herb bag of his.
He opened the door.
A panel of wood exploded almost in his face, torn to pieces by a musket ball. Splinters of wood showered out from the door.
Maklavir reacted instantly with the reflexes that he had honed throughout his life as a diplomat.
He yelped and leapt back from the door.
There was a shout from his right.
Maklavir swung his head around.
There were two guards running towards him. One held a smoking musket in his hands.
Maklavir suddenly wished he had the sword. The one he had taken off the guard back in the house, the one he had given to Kendril in the kitchen.
The sword Kendril had refused to use.
Why on Zanthora hadn’t he grabbed it again?
Maklavir didn’t take time to answer his own question. He leapt into the stable, then pulled the shattered door shut behind him.
“We found her, my lady.” The guard saluted, then nodded back down the hallway. “Down there, the master bedroom.”
There were several guards in the hallway, searching every last room, corridor, and closet on the second floor.
Bronwyn had to admire their efficiency.
She turned to the man who had spoken to her. “Has Baron Dutraad regained consciousness?”
The man shook his head. “Not yet.”
Bronwyn nodded as she walked quickly down the hall. Captain Mayer and the other guards were downstairs, rounding up the rest of the Ghostwalker’s friends, or at least whomever Nadine hadn’t already cut into ribbons.
It was so nice to have a fanatical, cult-trained assassin at one’s disposal. Bronwyn didn’t know how she had ever got on without one.
She stepped into the master bedroom.
The steam-powered glow-globes had been turned back on, illuminating the room in their harsh white light. Candles were more traditional for the festivities of the evening, but then at this point the gathering downstairs was largely a farce. Bronwyn wasn’t even sure if it was still going on or not. She didn’t really care.
She stepped up towards the strongbox, and looked down at the beautiful redhead who was sprawled unconscious on the floor. Pieces of a shattered vase were scattered on the floor around her head.
“I-I-I th-thought she was a r-r-robber.” Dutraad’s wife Mina, in nothing but a dressing gown with a shawl thrown over her
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