Chapter 40
TARIAN
T arian parked the car on a desolate road, a mile out from Sarah’s current location. He’d heard all of Kenna’s objections to flying and fire, but he wasn’t sure he shouldn’t trap her in the car and melt the doors shut, just for her own safekeeping.
The look she gave him when he suggested that, however, disabused him of that notion.
They walked in lightly, all three of them being quiet, Tarian leading them in the moonlit dark, listening, smelling, and tasting the air.
He was glad he did—because something had a familiar funk.
Like rot, mixed with ozone. Pungent, foul, and sharp.
He glanced down to Kenna, who was looking at her phone—she’d dimmed the screen, so hopefully no one else could see—and he was surprised, again, that she couldn’t scent it.
It reinforced her simple humanity.
She might be quick and wise, but she was still a magic-less girl.
“You are going back to the car,” he told her, in a low voice. Whatever danger was out here, he would face it alone.
But then a scream tore through the night.
High pitched. Frantic. Female.
Tarian’s muscles tensed, his claws itching to unsheathe. But before he could react, a fresh wave of terror slammed into him—not his own.
Kenna’s.
Through their bond.
Her hand grasped his tight. “I’m not taking a chance on losing the both of you!” she hissed.
“You will never lose me,” he promised.
Her grip on his hand tightened.
But it was too late. She was already hauling him forward, the path leading them straight to the base of a very old quarry—three-quarters sheer walls, with a still pool in the center, reflecting the moonlight.
“Stop it!” a girl’s voice echoed over to them.
Kenna wanted to run forward, but he restrained her, because?—
“What the hell is that?” Kenna growled, sounding like a dragon.
“I don’t know,” he growled, right back.