Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 47623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
My gaze tracks to the desk where Grace’s weapons are laid out. I can’t leave them. When we spoke about deals, Azazel made it sound like timed moved differently in the other realm, so seven years might pass in a matter of months or even days. If Grace returns that quickly on our side of things, I want her to have her weapons. It’s the absolute least I can do.
As I carefully pack them into the duffel bag she’d brought in, I notice a few of the knives are missing. Two daggers and one that’s long enough to be a short sword. I laughed when I first saw it and asked her if she planned on fighting any Spartans. She hadn’t been amused.
I didn’t even see her grab them during that short conversation with Azazel before she made her deal. Maybe she’d already had them on her. Or maybe she was better at sleight of hand than I could have imagined. I press my lips together. I hope you know what you’re getting into.
After slinging both bags over my shoulders, I grab the card and examine it. He said I just need to concentrate, which sounds deceptively simple. Everything about magic is deceptively simple.
Just reach for it.
Just imagine what you want it to do.
Just let it do what it’s meant to do.
I snort and press the card to my chest. Nothing happens. Of course nothing happens. Why would anything magical I attempt actually work on the first try? I take a slow breath and close my eyes. The desire to leave, to see my men again, whole and healthy, slams into me so hard, it makes me dizzy. I choke on a ragged inhale and the world seems to go sickeningly liquid for half a beat.
When I open my eyes, I’m somewhere else.
I turn a slow circle, taking in the relatively normal living room I now stand in. It looks like something out of a sitcom. Small and cozy with furniture that has a lived-in kind of feel. A staircase leads up to the second floor and I can see the kitchen through the doorway in the back of the room. Another turn shows what appears to be a front door.
The bags go on the low coffee table. I pad to the front door to peer out the windows on either side. I’d half expected to find a street with rows of nearly identical houses, but there is only a gravel driveway leading down a hill into dark trees. Not a single light breaks up the growing darkness, though in the distance I can see what appears to be a town. I exhale slowly. Good. With this house being so isolated, it means there’s less chance of innocents getting caught in the cross fire if my father’s people find us again.
Less chances of close neighbors asking questions about weird sights and sounds, too.
I do a quick search of the house, but there’s nothing worth noting. A few bedrooms with large beds, a deceptively nice shower, a modern kitchen with a fridge and pantry packed with food. I pause there, considering. My stomach is cramping with hunger and I feel a little woozy, but I have energy for the first time since I found out I was pregnant. “Maybe this supplemental shield will help with the morning sickness?” I murmur.
Ten minutes later, I have my answer as I puke up the few crackers I managed to choke down. Damn it.
I drag myself to the living room to dig out my toothbrush so I can scrub the taste out of my mouth. That done, I circle back to the fridge. Food is right out, but I had seen some electrolyte-packed drinks in there. Maybe that will help.
A thud from the living room has me spinning around.
I rush through the doorway to find Azazel standing over my three men as if he just dumped them in a pile. Azazel brushes his hands together as if dusting them off. “Good luck.” Then he disappears in a surge of shadows.
I don’t hesitate, I drop my drink and rush toward the men. “Are you okay?”
Malachi is at the bottom of the pile, but he throws up a hand. “Stop.”
I freeze a few feet away. “What?”
“We’re…” He shakes his head, eyes slightly unfocused. His handsome face is haggard and drawn, cheekbones stark. “Not safe.”
What they said in the last dream comes rushing back. Somehow my father managed to get them to the brink of starvation in only a few days. In all the chaos, I hadn’t had much time to think about it. Now, the truth stares me right in the face, evidence blatant in the fact all three of them have obviously lost weight. Too much weight. More, they’re too pale, their skin stretched tight over their bones. Even Malachi’s long hair seems dull and brittle.