Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Wynter followed them . . . and then growled when they blurred out of sight and all but shot through the gap in the opening iron gates. “Assholes,” she said, even though she’d guessed they would rush off. She turned to her coven and looked from Hattie to Delilah. “Go hunt our boy, we need his exact position, it’s possible that he’s moved.”
Both females shifted into their animal forms and melted away, disappearing into the shadows.
“Until we hear back from Delilah and Hattie, we’ll act on the supposition that Saul is still near the storage unit and head in that direction,” Wynter said to Xavier and Anabel as they all jogged down the path and exited the gates. “But we’ll have to use the woods and circle up behind him. Remember to be careful. The guy will have the kind of tricks up his sleeve that we haven’t had to deal with before.”
As they rocketed toward the wooded area, Wynter thought about alerting the townspeople. But the residents could panic or shout an alarm or do something equally unhelpful. She couldn’t afford to clue Saul in to the fact that the Ancients knew his location.
In the woods, Wynter, Xavier, and Anabel moved quickly and silently through the labyrinth of trees. As much as she’d love the opportunity to stab Saul right in the throat, she hoped that Cain had taken care of him by now. The quicker the Aeon was gone from the Earth, the better.
There was a fast flutter of wings, and then a crow squawked above them. Hattie. The crow flew away, staying low enough for Wynter and the others to keep their eyes on her. They followed Hattie, heading deeper and deeper into the woods. So deep they were soon close to the outskirts of the town. Either Saul knew he was being hunted or he’d simply chosen to retreat for some other reason.
Wynter’s step faltered at the loud crackle of power up ahead. There was then a roar of fire followed by a thick grunt. “Shit.” She took off, following the sounds of battle.
Delilah, still in her monstrous cat form, came into view. She was crouched near the fringe of the woods, her gaze on the clearing up ahead. Sidling up to her, Wynter sucked in a breath as she took in the scene before them.
Cain and Azazel stood side by side, emitting rippling blasts of pure power at Saul, who—what in the hell?—was surrounded by partly transparent figures that were dressed similar to Trojan soldiers.
Despite not being solid, the soldiers easily took the hits of power that were aimed at Saul. No, Wynter quickly realized, they absorbed the power. Weirdly, each hit gave them just a little more substance.
“Shades,” muttered Xavier as he came up on Wynter’s other side with Anabel close behind him.
Wynter frowned. “What?”
“Shades,” he repeated as Hattie, still in her crow form, settled on his shoulder. “They’re the restless spirits of dead soldiers who didn’t move on to the afterlife. They can be called on like this, because they’re as anchorless as a balloon drifting in the wind. And if a person is powerful enough, they can use them like puppets.”
“To do what?” asked Anabel.
“A lot of things, including kill.” Xavier paused. “Most people wouldn’t call on them, because the price is too high. Saul will feel the burn of every injury they receive.”
Wynter rather liked the sound of that. “So they can be injured?”
“Yes,” he replied. “But not unless they’re solid.”
“Ah, so that’s why the Ancients are blasting them with power.” Wynter looked back at the clearing just as Saul aimed a ball of blinding light at Cain. Fucker. Her Ancient quickly deflected it. Ha.
It didn’t appear that Cain had any wounds, but she couldn’t tell from this angle. “We need to get out there and help them.” She tensed as a rumbling sound scraped at her monster’s throat. It wanted out. Wanted blood. Wanted to tear apart the Aeon it recognized as the one who’d attacked it not so long ago. And it intended to do exactly that.
An otherworldly breeze danced in the air, carrying a note of caution that was aimed at the monster within Wynter, staying its hand. Thank God. Or Kali, to be more precise. Wynter couldn’t let her monster surface here and now. It didn’t distinguish between friend and foe, it only aimed to kill.
Right now, she’d do that job herself.
Wynter called to her sword—a weapon she’d long ago bonded to her magick. The black glass blade appeared in her hand, shiny and solid. She turned to the others, finding that Xavier and Anabel had conjured their own swords. “There’s no sense in us taking shots at the Aeon—we probably won’t be able to kill him. We need to pick off the shades so he has no one shielding him.”