Two girls. Two secrets.
Only one can survive.
Years before Nelle Wychthorn plans her escape, Tabitha Catt may unearth something in a Horned God's lair that is the key to freedom.
Desperate to save her beloved aunt from a dark curse, Tabitha is out t...
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Wallace got to his feet, pushing up with one hand. Mud scuffed his knees and his palms. Tears rolled down his ashen cheeks as he limped toward his mother. "Momma!"
The birds had noticed him.
A dog too.
A small flock of crows, moonlight glancing off their bladed beaks, peeled away from the main host—
Twisted, curved downward—
And plunged, slicing through the air—
Heading toward the wailing child.
Shit, shit, shit...
I grabbed hold of a panicking Deniaud soldier who was running past me. I snatched him by the shirt collar, swung him wide, and slammed him against the straw bales, catching him beneath the knees. He stumbled and fell backward.
As I had been, he was gone somewhere else inside his head.
I ripped the crossbow from his limp grip, his quiver too, and slung it over my head. I bounded up the straw bales. A wildfyre torch leaned over, half-knocked from the ground. The bale gave me the right height to dip the bolt head into the flames and get a better line of sight.
Wallace hobbled as fast as he could toward his mother, who ran and screamed, "Wallace! Run! Sweetheart, run!"
The crows flew as swift as arrows.
Closer, closer, closer—
I braced my position and aimed for the heart of the flock bearing down on the boy and let fly.
The bolt whizzed through the air—
Blue flames streaked above the lawn—
My bolt hit a bird. The wildfyre lit its midnight feathers and the flames rapidly spread outward, catching others on fire. They melted like dripping paint and fell like stars aflame.
But it wasn't enough.
The birds were too loosely packed together.
And on the flock flew.
Shit, shit, shit...
In a blur of hands and fire and speed, I reached behind, snatched a bolt from the quiver, reloaded, and lit the bolt head with wildfyre.
Faster, faster, faster—
Aim. Fire. Reload—
Aim. Fire. Reload—
It was a barrage of speed and shots as fast and automatic—
Bolts thudded into Jurgana's birds, side-swiping them off target. Their slimy bodies exploded into fire and dust.
But there were too many closing in...so fucking close...too fucking close.
Their mighty wings beat the air, and their deadly beaks as long and sharp as my blades were aimed at Wallace's back as they soared low and fast.
