Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 229266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1146(@200wpm)___ 917(@250wpm)___ 764(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 229266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1146(@200wpm)___ 917(@250wpm)___ 764(@300wpm)
It didn’t help all that much.
Screams of pain pierced through the distant snarls. Gritting my teeth, I looked over my shoulder, no longer seeing Casteel or Delano. Naill was gone too. I stayed still until I saw a shifting of shadows and a flash of movement to my left. I zeroed in on it.
I fired the bolt just as the sound of pounding feet whipped my attention to the right. A man ran at me—at least I thought the tall, broad shape was a man, but I couldn’t be sure. His face was covered by something that looked like leather. Clumps of brown hair poked out from the mask. He carried no bow, but rather some sort of club, and he was fast for someone his size.
“Shit,” I whispered, whirling toward the quiver. I grabbed a bolt and nocked it quickly.
The man swung the club before I could fire. I ducked but wasn’t fast enough. His club caught the bow, knocking it from my grip with one shattering blow. He laughed. “What kind of bitch are you?” he asked as I jumped back. I recognized the man’s voice. He’d been the one shouting, and now that he was only a foot or so from me, I could see why I thought his mask was made of leather.
And I could also see that Casteel hadn’t been joking when he said that the Dead Bones Clan operated on the waste-not-want-not creed.
It was skin.
Human skin that had been stretched to fit over his head, stitched in jagged pieces around the openings that had been created for the eyes and mouth. My stomach churned, but I didn’t cave to the rising nausea.
“Are you part dog, or do you like to suck on things?” he asked, switching the club to his left hand. “If you beg nicely, I got something you can suck on.” He reached down, grabbing what I could only assume he was referencing. “Your face may be a mess, but your mouth looks just fine.”
Heart pounding, I darted out of reach of the club as he swung it again. I reached inside my cloak, unsheathing my dagger. I stilled, waiting as my fingers opened and closed around the handle. I had to be quick and smart. I’d only have one chance.
“I bet you’re one of those wolven bitches. Hear they like their women all cut up.” He made a calling sound, one used to summon a dog, and my grip tightened. “Tell me, girl. What kind of bitch are you?”
He lifted the club again, and I made my move. Shooting forward, I slipped under his arm and grabbed the dirty tunic. Thrusting the dagger up, I used every ounce of strength I had to drive it deep under his chin.
“I’m this kind of bitch,” I growled. The muscles under the mask pieced together by human flesh went lax as I jerked the knife free.
Blood spurted in a hot spray. Whatever he was about to say ended on a gurgle. The club fell from his hand, and then he toppled like a tree, straight and forward, taking me down with him.
I hit the pine-needled, snow-crusted ground with a grunt as air punched out of my lungs. The man was limp, his grotesquely masked face smashed into my shoulder.
“Dammit,” I muttered as his heavy weight sank into me. He smelled like rot and other things I didn’t want to think about. I tipped my head back against the ground. “This is just great.”
A flutter of wings drew my gaze to the sky. My eyes narrowed as that large hawk from before appeared overhead, gracefully circling before disappearing into the trees. A wing, caressed by the sun, gleamed silver. I really hoped my new cloak didn’t end up drenched in blood.
Sighing, I gathered up my strength and shoved at the man, managing to get him at least partway off my chest. I drew in a deep breath—
The man was suddenly lifted up and tossed aside like he was nothing more than a bag of small rocks. I had no idea where he landed. All I could do was stare at Casteel.
He stood above me, his face splattered with dots of red. “You’re bleeding.”
“You have three arrows sticking out of you.”
“You’ve been injured. Where?” He knelt beside me, ignoring my somewhat unnecessary observation.
“I’m fine.” I sat up, my eyes glued to the arrow jutting from his stomach as I sheathed my dagger. “Does it hurt?”
“What?”
“The arrows.” I paused as he grasped my left arm, pushing the cloak aside. The arrows that are sticking out of your body.”
“It’s nothing more than an annoyance.” He turned my arm, and I winced. “Sorry,” he said gruffly as he exposed the tear in the sleeve of my tunic.
“They’re inside your body,” I repeated. “How can that only be an annoyance? Is it because you’re from an elemental bloodline?”