FIFTY-ONE
WILLOW
Something thumps in the distance.
I hop out of my seat in the grand room, rushing with Juniper and Maeve around the corner. Silvera stands in front of me, a growl building in her throat. That growl ceases when she spots Caz walking into the manor.
Only he doesn’t look like how he left. It looks like he’s walked through a battlefield. His skin is dirty, his trench coat stained with rancid black liquid that I can smell from here, and he’s limping. Killian and Rowan stumble their way inside, and we rush to them.
“Caz, what happened? Are you okay?” I clasp his face in my hands, and he holds on to my wrists.
“I’m fine, Willow Woman.” He attempts a smile, but it hardly reaches his eyes.
“What happened?” Maeve’s voice is an octave higher. “Why do you all look like you were attacked?”
“Because we were ,” Killian says as he clutches his rib. “Selah appeared, brought a flood of monsters.” His shirt is ripped, revealing streaks of red blood through the tattered material.
“Love of Vakeeli,” Maeve gasps. “But I thought Blackwater was protected. Hassha said she wouldn’t be able to get in, right?”
“That’s what I thought too,” Caz mutters, and as he does, two tall silhouettes appear at the door.
Korah and Hassha enter the manor, looking every bit like gods amongst mortals. While the men are covered in dirt and grime, the sisters are spotless. Minus the deep cut through Korah’s breastplate, they don’t seem to have been harmed at all.
“Blackwater is protected.” Korah steps forward. The closer she gets, I see her breastplate sealing together with purple static. “Selah is cunning. She wanted us focused on holding the barrier long enough for her to find the slightest trace of weakness in it. It is possible that when we exert ourselves doing one thing, our energy ebbs. But I assure you, that will not happen again.”
Cerberus gallops into the house, and Silvera sniffs at him before snorting and scampering away.
“What exactly happened?” Juniper asks, frowning as she watches a filthy Cerberus rush through the hall.
“Long story,” Rowan mumbles, raking his fingers through his hair.
“I’ll have Makoto prepare the tea,” Maeve says, already speeding to the kitchen.