The warlock stared at her with empty eyes. His chin wobbled as his cracked lips turned up. “Well…” He sputtered a desperate, humorless laugh. “Of course it would be you.”
He’d been skewered by three large spikes, one through each shoulder, the third through one hip and protruding out the other, and they held him dangling just above the pool like a broken kite. His flesh was stretched and tented into little triangles of translucent skin on finer needles dangling from thin filaments that stretched into the ceiling. She’d seen pincushions with less wear. Trails of thick blood oozed from the larger wounds and into the pool below.
“What have you done with Abby?” she asked, voice strangled.
“D-do I look as if I’m in any p-position to have done anything with Ab-Ab-Ab…” He clenched his jaw and
