Page 206 of Vasmora

Zevander stepped through the flame, circling Kazhimyr. “Tell me what brought you to Eidolon.”

The black of Kazhimyr’s pupils crawled over his eyes, the sight of it curling the hairs on the back of my neck. “Killing you.” He jumped to his feet and spun around, his palm thrust forward. A spear of ice shot toward Zevander, and I lurched, my heart pounding in my throat.

Zevander sent a burst of flames toward it, melting the spear to a gentle rain.

I exhaled a trembling breath, watching them circle each other while contained by the flames.

“Your magic never quite measured up,” Zevander taunted. “Water doesn’t put out sablefyre.”

“More subtle. Got it.” Again, Kazhimyr raised his palm, and his jaw clenched.

My gaze flicked between Zevander, who wore a smirk, and Kazhimyr, whose face reddened as if he were straining, and I frowned in confusion.

“What is happening right now?” Rykaia said beside me, as if reading my thoughts.

“My turn,” Zevander said, and he held his palm up, letting the scorpions tumble from his palm to the ground.

Any time I’d watched him unleash them on someone, organs had spilled out of the person. “Zevander, wait!”

Kazhimyr turned his attention on me and stretched out his hand in my direction. A white mist drifted toward me from his palm, but faded with a sizzle when it hit Zevander’s flaming boundary. Snarling, he stepped toward me, but halted midstride, agony clawing at his expression as he cried out.

Scorpions climbed his legs, their stingers flicking wildly over him. He stumbled backward, growling and thrashing his upper body. His lower half buckled, and he dropped to the ground, convulsing.

Zevander waved his hand, and the circle of flames parted for a small gap. He flicked his fingers, urging me through. “The venom should keep him still, but I’ll hold him down, just in case.”

Nodding, I stepped inside the circle and knelt at Kazhimyr’s side. As I sliced my nail down the length of my arm, Kazhimyr’s eyes rolled back, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. “You’re certain he’s all right?”

“No,” Zevander answered, pressing his palm against his friend’s throat. “It isn’t the venom that’ll kill him, though.” He took hold of Kazhimyr’s jaw, and I let the blood from my cut trickle into his mouth.

Drip, drip, drip.

Bright red drops spilled over his lips and across his tongue, sliding toward his throat.

Kazhimyr stilled, and like every other I’d poisoned with my blood, his face turned pale, lips blue. The scorpions across his legs faded to black smoke and Zevander released his neck.

I stepped back, watching. Waiting.

Two minutes passed.

Three.

Five.

“What’s happening? Why isn’t he waking?” Torryn asked from where he stood outside the circle.

I nibbled on my lip.

I’m not begging, Morsana.

“I wonder if the scorpion poison affected him?” I said aloud, an anxious tremble settling over me.

Zevander’s brows furrowed as he stared down at his friend, though he remained silent. Another minute passed, and he rubbed his thumb across his clenched fist.

“C’mon, Kaz. Get up.” Rykaia paced the perimeter of the circle, biting her nails. “Your jokes were never all that funny.” She paused her steps, setting her hands on her hips. “Okay, maybe a little. Now, wake up.”

Brows tight, I turned back to Kazhimyr and closed my eyes. “Wake up.”

Kazhimyr sucked in a sharp breath, and Zevander’s shoulders sagged. Spiders poured out of his mouth, scampering around the circle. Some sizzled in the circle of flame. Others faded to smoke.