I knelt over the mage. His dead eyes stared sightlessly at the sky as blood pooled and spread beneath his ruined throat.
I heard murmurs from the far end of the street. Most of the people had just arrived, waiting until the fight was over to come out of hiding.
I was kneeling over the mage, his blood on my hands. They were looking at me, grim-faced, angry, and accusing.
“Murderer!” someone yelled.
Oh shit.
Chapter 2
Running sounded like a real good idea. As a Benares, I’d been taught that there’s no shame in running, only in being caught.
I ran, but not to get away from the mob. I ran to catch a murdering bastard demon. I didn’t know if it was what they thought they’d seen me do, or the fact that I was running straight at them, but the mob who’d just called me a murderer got out of my way. Vegard shouted for me to stop. I ignored him and kept going; he’d catch up. He always did. Phaelan was already beside me. What I was after didn’t make any difference to my cousin; I’d found trouble and he wasn’t about to miss a second of it. When all this was over, I needed to have a long talk with Phaelan about his mental stability.
While I was at it, I might want to check into my own. Tall, naked, and purple wasn’t trying to get away from me; he wanted me to follow him, and I was obliging him. That wasn’t healthy, mentally or otherwise. But I didn’t have any choice. He was back on the street, running through innocent bystanders and heading toward campus. There were hundreds of young magic users there; some knew how to defend themselves, but most hadn’t learned yet. I had to take him down before he got there. Problem was, I had no freaking clue how.