“Dammit, no,” I whispered. Deep blue fire gathered over the fallen Winter Lady. It coalesced with an ugly howl into the outline of a serpent, which coiled and then lashed out in a strike that carried its blazing form fifteen feet, to the nearest corner of the ruined cottage . . . . . . where Molly, behind her veil, had been crouched and waiting for a chance to aid me.
