Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
“How long will I have?”
“The feedings vary in length but usually last at least an hour. For that reason, you will flash to the location where we first landed, and you will do so within sixty minutes of our arrival. No later. And no matter what happens to me, you are not to attack the wraiths.”
“If a spirit-hag steals one of your organs, I make no promises. That’s my shtick.” But okay. His plan sounded simple enough. And once she got inside that palace, she’d have the ability to return anytime she desired. An ambush could be arranged...
Roux transported her to a rickety drawbridge shrouded by thick white fog. Blythe wasted no time with questions. She simply did as he’d requested and misted, taking a form not even other spirits could discern.
“This way,” he told her softly. When he crossed the creaking wooden planks, she floated behind him. As soon as they exited, putting their feet on solid ground, the fog parted, revealing Penelope standing in a doorway, wearing a see-through pink nightgown.
Do not strike. Do not!
“How intriguing,” the wraith said. “What’s this you’ve brought me, darling?”
He stiffened, and Blythe would have lost her footing if she’d been walking. Had she seriously been spotted already?
“What did I bring you?” he asked.
Penelope waved to the Astra’s groin. “Another erection. I’m beyond flattered. Truly.”
Okay. All right. But also not okay. Not all right.
“That isn’t for you,” he snapped, and dang if it wasn’t sexy.
“Sure it’s not.” The wraith winked at him. “Too bad for you the Astra aren’t able to mist the way Erebus does. You would then be able to handle spirits.”
“Enough chatter. Let’s get this done.”
“Tsk, tsk. So rude tonight. But I guess anything’s better than your smile.” Penelope spun and glided into an empty foyer. “Come on, then. The others are waiting.”
Blythe could handle spirits, no problem. And she was sooo tempted to solidify just enough to lash out. How did Roux put up with this female night after night?
He stomped after Miss Murder. Unnoticed, Blythe branched off, heading in the opposite direction. Fifty-nine minutes on the countdown clock.
She’d never forgotten Lucca’s claim that Penelope possessed a treasure room, and the only entrance was found in her bedroom. So, up the stairs Blythe blazed, on the hunt for the primary bedroom. No doubt a “queen” like ole Pen demanded the very best. Except the primary was as empty as the foyer. So were all the other bedrooms. She walked through every available doorway and got nowhere fast.
Could the entrance be hidden in the walls, maybe? Or the floor?
With the countdown clock ticking in her head, Blythe patted as many walls as possible. Searched the floors with an eagle eye. Hunted any well-portals that might lead below the palace. No luck. The most she managed to do? Uncover a vent.
“I thought about going first tonight.” Penelope’s sultry voice wafted through its slats. “In the end, I decided to go last and sample your deepest hatred. But you don’t mind, do you, handsome?”
Roux’s response was muffled, and Blythe pursed her lips.
“Mmm,” the wraith moaned. “My suspicions were correct. You rival the phantom.”
Frustration merged with annoyance when the sixtieth minute zeroed out, and Blythe had nothing to show for it. Though she was beyond tempted to make her way to the throne room, she set course for the front door, intending to head back to the drawbridge.
A pitter patter of footsteps echoed. Seconds later, a unibeast clomped into the chamber.
Breath clogged in her throat. Uh-oh. She so did not want to deal with any of these creatures today.
It sensed something and stilled. As its beady eyes darted, she didn’t dare flash. The use of power might trigger its most aggressive instincts. It had in the arena.
If it alerted the wraiths to her presence...
It prowled around the space, sniffing the air. Blythe held herself immobile...it walked right through her, and she breathed easier. But then it walked through her again. And again.
She moved. It moved, too, seeming to stalk her.
This went on for one minute. Two. Three. It never missed a beat and never failed to find her.
She chanced a step toward a door, gauging its reaction. It jumped in front of her, blocking the way, daring her to escape. Its ears flattened, and its eyes darted.
Her frustration and annoyance intensified. The unibeasts were intelligent beings; they learned and adapted.
Should she wait it out or risk flashing to the bridge?
Would Roux storm the palace, searching for her, if he beat her to the meeting spot?
In the end, she decided to take a chance. Blythe flashed to to the edge of the bridge. She held her breath. No Roux. And no commotion at the palace. No stampede of unibeasts giving chase.
Relief cascaded over her—until the unibeast appeared right in front of her, with seven friends. Licking drool from their fangs, they circled her. She rolled back her shoulders and palmed a dagger. No choice. She had to fight.