Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“Xander, how lovely to see you again.”
“Yes,” I said, tugging on Lorne’s hand to get him to walk forward with me toward the desk. “I don’t suppose we could dispense with all the back-and-forth and ridiculous posturing and instead you just tell me what you’re doing here in Osprey.”
He squinted at me. “I opened this place. That should be perfectly obvious.”
“Well, yes, Declan Grant did, but who are you, and is the real Declan still alive?”
“I think perhaps you’re having some kind of—”
I waved my hand in a wax on, wax off motion à la The Karate Kid, and Lorne yelled, “Holy fuck!”
“Well said,” I agreed as we both looked at the faun standing behind the desk.
The men behind us moved then, and I bolted forward as Lorne crouched and caught the first one who lunged at him, flipping him up and over his back. It was impressive, but the next guy was on him in seconds, while the third came for me. I slipped around the desk, the faun screamed as I pushed by him, and my attacker would have gotten me if a crossbow bolt hadn’t hit him in the shoulder. Howling in pain, clutching his bicep, he dropped to the floor.
“No,” the faun gasped, and the guy who was attacking Lorne, and the other who was struggling to get up, both turned as a hooded figure stepped from the shadows.
Lorne rushed across the room to me, shielding me, and I peeked around him to see the figure throw the hood off to reveal a woman with short black hair, alabaster skin, and bright-green eyes. She was a vision, but the important part was the crossbow she had reloaded.
“Shut. Up,” she ordered the screaming man, who went instantly mute. To me, she said, “You the mage who guards the rift?”
“I am,” I answered, lying about what I was but not who, thinking that was best. She didn’t strike me as the kind of person who went in for long explanations.
She tipped her head at Lorne. “He yours?”
“He is,” I told her. “So he can’t be taken.”
“I mean…he could,” she said, drawing out the words. “But if I’m right, your god takes shits bigger than mine, so enough said.”
I nodded. “And you are?”
“Nott.” She leaned forward, offering me her arm.
Moving around Lorne, I clasped her forearm and she mine. Her power was considerable, and I felt it try and push through me, reaching my bicep and then my shoulder before it was quashed and retreated, dissipating quickly. Having to return the favor—it was the way of these things—I drove my own through her, and in seconds, she was shivering as my power hit her like a body blow, making her unsteady on her feet for a moment before releasing from her body like steam from a locomotive, out the top of her head, fluttering her hair before it dissipated.
“You lied,” she whispered as our arms separated. “You’re a witch.”
I smiled at her.
Her head tipped sideways. “I thought you’d be older.”
“I know,” I agreed. “It’s because my grandfather was a mage, and most people from other realms expect him to still be here.”
“Yes, but a mage couldn’t hold the land, not against all this,” she said, indicating the men with her crossbow. “I keep watch on fae soldiers crossing realms for my lord, and noticed them trickling into your town.”
“I appreciate your vigilance.”
She shrugged.
“You don’t know where they’re coming through from?”
She shook her head.
“Well, again, thank you.”
“You know it’s lucky for Corvus, and the rift there, that in you, they have a witch for a guardian.”
“Thank you.”
“Was your power granted by the Morrighan?”
“You would think so, but no. My line was originally blessed through Nemain, though it’s changed somewhat,” I told her.
Her face lit up as the floor near her began to fall away, forming a wide hole in the middle of the office that sucked a really nice rug—I was guessing a vintage Moroccan one from how old it looked—into the now swirling funnel. “My family is pledged to Neit, her husband, the battle god. I will give her your regards when next I see her.”
“Thank you,” I said, smiling at her.
“Now,” she snapped, and the guy with the bolt in his shoulder walked forward. She yanked the thick arrow from his flesh with no care for the pain she inflicted. But even with the force she used, and even though there was blood with the release, he still sighed in relief before he dropped into the hole. The other two fae were next, moving forward quickly, not fighting their fate.
“I can’t go,” the faun cried as she motioned for him to do the same. “If I go back, I’ll be sent to slaughter like the rest of my family.”
She lifted her crossbow, which was truly a beautiful weapon made of mahogany, inlaid with gold and rubies.