Witches' Bane (The Soul Eater Book 2) by Pippa DaCosta

you, just like always.”
    I looked again at the guard, who was eyeing me as though I was the biggest problem he had right now, and then to where he was motioning. His companion stood behind a security podium as flames lapped up around him and ate at the wall. A section of the ceiling fell behind me and smashed against the floor.
    “Are you all insane?” Sweat crawled down my face and neck. “For Sekhmet’s sake, get out! Before this whole place comes down.”
    “You’ll have to leave the sword with us,” the guard grumbled like I was the idiot.
    This was ridiculous. I cracked a fast right hook across the guard’s face. Then I snatched his arm before he could tumble back and shoved him toward the doors where Cat’s frame blocked the light. She caught hold of him and vanished from sight.
    The remaining guard tackled me side-on, whipping me off my feet and slamming me face first into the hall floor. My chin smacked against the soot-covered tiles, snapping my teeth together and igniting a dull ache through my skull.
    A knee sank into my back. He obviously didn’t see the fire raging a few feet in front of us and riding up the stairs. The roaring, cracking, snarling sounds of the blaze destroying everything in its path was also lost on him.
    I didn’t see the section of ceiling fall, but I felt the hot, jagged debris pummel my arms and head.
    “I thought we’d gotten over this, Mister Dante.” The guard grunted and yanked me upright onto my feet. “You can’t bring edged weapons into this house. You know the rules.”
    Orange flames snaked up his arm and his shoulder and licked at his hair and ear. He didn’t notice. There was no way he could not notice. Something had hold of the staff, either blinding them to the danger or simply leaving them without a care. A curse or an enchantment? Someone out there was pissed off enough at Osiris to spell his staff and risk the god’s wrath? They’d better be looking for suicide by god, because Osiris wouldn’t let this go.
    “Listen…you’re not in your right mind,” I wheezed. “You can’t see it, but you really need to—”
    Cat cracked a bronze statue of Isis over the guard’s head and caught him under his arms as he collapsed into her. She dragged him through the smoldering debris and out the door.
    I followed and broke free from the smoke, spluttering ash from my tongue. Where the hell was Osiris? He could stop all this with a click of his fingers.
    Cat had dragged the two unconscious men to safety and was starting back up the steps. “Call the fire department.”
    “No.” I turned and glared into the broiling smoke. “Osiris can fix this.”
    “We should leave.”
    “You can go.” I pulled up my singed coat once more and ducked back inside. Heat pushed down from all sides, and the smoke billowed so thick and black I could barely see more than a few feet ahead, but I knew the layout of this house and dashed into the back hall, toward the study.
    “This is insane!” Cat hissed. She followed close behind, weaving around smoking debris and bubbling walls.
    I stopped by the bookcase and pulled the spine of a large, leather-bound book titled, Tra Sudk omd Sraer Sokak - The Gods and Their Games, opening up the hidden passageway. Cool, clean air beckoned from below.
    “You shouldn’t be here,” I told Cat.
    Black smudges marred her body and a few grazes wept blood, but she wasn’t the type to let a little smoke inhalation stop her. She looked me over as though I’d offended her cat-honor. “You’re my only lead as to my queen’s whereabouts. I need you alive, not buried under tons of debris. I’m coming with you.” Her glare had set as hard as concrete. Arguing would just waste time.
    I jogged down the stairs, Cat’s almost-silent footfalls keeping up behind me, and entered the underground portion of the house that few people saw or remembered seeing. The air was clean here. No smoke, no heat. Just plush couches and flowing white