Chapter 6 #2
I turned back to see the thing clamp its jaws down on Darian’s shoulder. His cry tore through the garden. Blood sprayed. The beast shook him, teeth sunk deep, and I saw his feet leave the ground.
I threw myself at the wolf. My shoulder slammed into its ribs with a crack that I felt in my bones. It released Darian with a snarl, stumbling sideways, and I hit the ground hard, rolling through dirt and crushed roses.
Darian collapsed, blood streaming from his shoulder, his sword clattering from nerveless fingers. The beast shook its massive head, those violet eyes fixing on me with something that looked almost like... curiosity.
I scrambled to my feet, breathing hard, hands raised like I had any prayer of defending myself barehanded against that monstrosity.
The thing tilted its head. Studied me.
Then it opened its mouth and spoke.
“Well, well.” The voice was wrong. Too human for that throat, too smooth for those teeth. “What have we here?”
My blood turned to ice.
It took a step toward me, nostrils flaring as it scented the air. “You smell of shadows and flame, little mortal. How... interesting.”
I backed away, every instinct screaming at me to run. But there was nowhere to go.
“My master will be very pleased,” it continued, that horrible grin stretching wider. “Very pleased indeed. I think I shall take you back to him.”
“Like hell,” I snarled, though my voice came out breathless and shaking.
The wolf laughed. Actually laughed, a sound like breaking glass.
From the ground behind it, Darian made a sound that was half growl, half curse. He was trying to push himself up, one arm useless, blood pooling beneath him. “Don’t—don’t you fucking dare—”
The beast’s attention snapped to him, and for a moment I thought it might finish what it started.
Then the world exploded.
Something slammed into the earth between me and the wolf with enough force to fissure the stone beneath our feet. Wind erupted around us, whipping my hair across my face and sending rose petals spinning like a storm.
I caught a glimpse of wings, not feathered like Fenric’s, but gossamer-thin and iridescent, catching the light like a dragonfly’s. They snapped wide, spanning twice the width of their owner’s body, and the air around them shimmered with power.
A woman. Tall, lean, deadly. Tiny braids of black and magenta hair whipped around a face carved from angles and fury. Her clothes were practical leather and steel, and when she turned slightly, I caught the glint of a blade at her hip.
The wolf’s grin faltered.
“Brynelle,” it said, and there was something like respect in that inhuman voice. “Still playing saviour, I see.”
“Still playing lapdog, Torrath.” Her voice was silk over steel, calm despite the hurricane of wind swirling around her. “Tell me, does your master know you’re hunting children now? Or is that your own particular brand of cowardice?”
The beast—Torrath—snarled but didn’t advance. “The children were not the target. Though they smell interesting too.”
Brynelle’s wings flared wider, the wind around us picking up until it howled. “What does your master want with them?”
Torrath’s grin stretched wider, all teeth and malice. “You know, Brynelle. You’ve always known.” His massive head tilted toward me. “But now... now I think I’ll take the human. She smells so very interesting.”
He lunged.
But Brynelle was faster.
Her blade sang as it cleared its sheath, the steel gleaming silver-bright in the morning sun. She moved like liquid death, wind carrying her forward, and met his charge with a grace that was purely predatory.
The collision was brutal. Torrath’s claws raked across her arm, drawing blood, but her blade found his throat. He twisted away at the last second, the steel scoring deep but not fatal.
They broke apart, circling.
“You cannot win this,” Torrath said, voice conversational despite the blood dripping from his neck. “Not against what’s coming.”
“Watch me.”
Brynelle raised her free hand, and the wind around us gathered, lashing through the air. Then she released it.
The gust hit Torrath like a battering ram, lifting him off his feet and slamming him into the garden wall with a sickening crunch. Stone crumbled. Dust filled the air.
But the bastard got back up.
He shook his head, spat blood, and that horrible grin never wavered. “Lord Ashterion will have what he wants. Today, tomorrow or next week. It matters little. He is patient. And you...” His eyes found mine again. “You cannot run from what you are.”
Brynelle took advantage of his distraction. She darted forward, and her blade found the soft spot between his ribs before he could dodge, sinking deep.
He collapsed, massive body hitting the ground with a sound like thunder.
Brynelle stood in the sudden silence, wings spread, wind stirring around her.
She turned to look at me. “Are you hurt?”
I shook my head, not trusting my voice.
She nodded once, then moved to where Darian lay bleeding in the dirt. Her hands were gentle as she examined his shoulder, but her expression remained granite-hard.
“Deep, but not fatal,” she murmured. “You’ll live, you damn fool.”
Above us, Fenric dropped from the sky with both children clutched safely in his arms. Eryx was crying, great heaving sobs that tore at my heart. Mireth was white as a sheet.
I ran to them the moment Fenric’s feet touched ground.
“Mama,” Mireth wailed, launching herself into my arms.
I held them both tight, breathing in the scent of their hair, feeling their solid warmth against my chest.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, though my voice was shaking. “It’s okay, little ones. You’re safe now.”
I glanced up at Fenric, about to ask what the hell just happened, when another figure slammed into the ground.
Varyth.
His gaze swept over Brynelle first, bloodied but standing. Then Darian, crumpled and bleeding in the dirt. Fenric, standing beside me, protective wings spread wide.
Then me.
And the fury that blazed across his features could have incinerated mountains.
“What the hell happened here?” The words were deadly quiet.
I clutched my children tighter, rage building in my chest like a wildfire. “What happened,” I said, my voice shaking with fury. “Is that thing—” I gestured toward Torrath’s corpse. “Came for my children. It knew me. It could smell me. It wanted to take me to its master.”
Varyth’s expression went completely blank. “It what?”
“You heard me.” I stood, carefully extracting myself from Mireth and Eryx’s clinging arms. “Some nightmare wolf came hunting in your precious safe garden, and my children were nearly torn apart because of whatever the hell I am that makes me so gods-damned interesting to you.”
Varyth’s jaw tightened, and something cold and terrible settled behind his eyes. “You think this is my fault?”
“I think you promised safety and delivered a teeth-ridden death trap wrapped in rose bushes. So yes. I’m leaning toward ‘your fault’ with a hint of ‘you’re full of it, Varyth.’”
“You said they’d be safe here.” My voice fractured on it, and gods, I hated that. “Safe. And now my children just watched a shapeshifting demon try to drag their mother off to some Lord With A Creepy Agenda like we’re in a bad bard’s song.”
“One breach—”
I stormed toward him. “That thing didn’t trip and fall into your fucking garden, Varyth. It came with intent.”
“Of course it did.” His tone was low and lethal, the kind that slid beneath the skin. “Because you radiate magic like a beacon. It didn’t come for me. It came for you.”
“Oh, so now this is my fault for existing?”
“Yes,” he snapped. “You stumble into my court like a feral thing with no leash, hissing and biting at every hand that tries to help you. You think survival makes you special? It makes you reckless.”
His wings flared into existence with the grace of knives.
“You arrogant bastard,” I snarled. “You dragged us here, made your little speeches about power and potential, and you couldn’t even keep a single monster out of your own fucking garden.”
His eyes flashed silver fire. “Watch your tongue, human.”
“Or what?” I bit back. “You’ll throw me to the wolves? I already know what that’s like.”
From the ground, Darian groaned. “Not to rush the climactic yelling, but I’m bleeding out, and if I die while you two are having your mating ritual, I will haunt both of you.”
Neither of us flinched.
“You are hiding something,” I spat.
His lips twitched. Maybe amusement. Maybe regret. “I’m protecting you.”
“No,” I snapped. “You’re stalling. Dodging. Evading. And I don’t know if it’s because you’re clueless or incompetent.”
“You infuriating—”
“Enough.” Brynelle’s voice cracked like lightning between us. She manifested in the space between us, wind stirring around her like an extension of her will. “You’re both being idiots. And children are watching.”
Shit.
My children were clinging to Fenric, who looked exactly like a man wondering if he needed to sedate one or both adults arguing in the garden.
Mireth clutched his sleeve in a white-knuckled grip, her bottom lip trembling.
Eryx looked like he couldn’t decide whether to cry or grab a stick and start swinging.
Fenric had a steadying hand on each of them.
“Oh gods,” I whispered, stepping back, my fury dissolving. “No. No—” I moved toward them, hands raised, useless. “I’m sorry.”
I crouched in front of them, trying to make myself smaller, trying to breathe.
“I lost my temper,” I said, because I couldn’t lie to them. “I got scared. But it’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”
Mireth looked up at me with fear too old for her little face. “Are we gonna have to run again?”
“No,” I whispered. “Not if I can help it. I swear, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I swear it.”
I wrapped my arms around them both, pulled them in tight. Held them like they were the only good things left in the world. Because they were.
Darian groaned again. “Don’t mind me. Bleeding. Still bleeding. Just having an out-of-body experience over here while you all process your trauma.”
“Shut up,” Brynelle muttered, kneeling to press her hands to his shoulder. “You’ll live.”
“Tell that to the pain in my soul.”
I pulled back from the kids and looked over my shoulder at Varyth.
“The wards will be reinforced. This won’t happen again,” he said smoothly, already turning away.
I stared at his retreating form like I could set him on fire with my mind.
“We’re not finished,” I called after him.
He paused. Glanced back.
“You are.”