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Michael
Asher wouldn’t stop complaining about his feet being tired after walking twenty miles, so when we came upon a tavern with tethered horses outside, I brought us closer. I leaned against the back wall and peeked out, ensuring no one had come out.
“What are you doing?” Asher asked, moonlight spilling over his face and highlighting his scar across his eye.
“Getting you a damn horse,” I ground out.
“Well … I um. I’m fine.” He leaned from side to side, shifting his weight.
He wasn’t fine. And I didn’t want to carry him if he fainted, so here we were, forced to steal our ride.
“I’ll get the horses and meet you on the other side at the gate.” I grabbed the top rail of the five-foot tall wooden fence and flung myself over, landing without a sound.
My feet pounded against the packed soil as I made my way toward the gate. Then I untied the reins of two horses from a wooden post.
“Nice horsey,” I cooed. “Come with me.” With a tug on the reins, I guided the stallions out. Asher held the doors and closed them with a soft click.
I handed Asher the reins of a sturdy, chestnut-colored mount and leapt onto the back of a sleek black one. As we galloped around the side of the structure, several men sputtered out its door, hiccupping and burping.
“Hey.” A man with a beard pointed at me, one arm slump around his buddy as he slurred his words. “Tha’sss my horse.”
Sorry. Mine now. You can thank Asher.
“Go!” I kicked my mount and we galloped faster as the men shouted curses. Asher lagged behind. “Hurry,” I bellowed over my shoulder.
“It’s not … my fault … you gave me … a slow horse!” His words came out bumpy as his stride.
“It’s not the horse, but rather the rider!” I chuckled.
The road ahead twisted and turned, winding its way into a forest near Mount Stones, so I slowed down to match his speed. If I left too much distance between us, the darkness would swallow me up and he wouldn’t be able to keep track of my whereabouts.
Our mounts trotted deeper into the forest, the gentle trickling stream hypnotic to my ear. Not a single bird stirred in the branches nor any small animals scurried up the trees. Winter’s approach had driven them all away for refuge and warmth.
“Can we rest here?” Asher slid off his horse and tied the reins around a tree trunk.
I swung down and tied the leash on the same tree, then I put up a hand for Asher to halt. A bright red light flickered about fifty feet away through the trees.
“What—”
I covered Asher’s mouth with my hand. “Quiet,” I whispered. “Follow me.”
We moved as silently as shadows, slipping around foliage and ducking under branches. I tugged on Asher’s arm and we lowered behind a hulking oak tree. My feathers tingled with anticipation of flight, but I willed myself to remain calm as I released a sigh of relief at the sight of the demon I’d hoped to run into.
Gorgo and his troops had set up camp near the firepit, their conversation punctuated by the crackling blaze. Two unfamiliar male angels stood at attention, their eyes scanning the area for any sign of danger with their swords drawn out. They must have sensed Asher.
“Gorgo! Sam.” Asher sprinted off without me.
The demon soldiers rushed forth but when they recognized us, they went back to their post.
Gorgo and Sam raised a hand in greeting, and the two angels lowered their weapons. After the introduction, the tall, dark, and slender angel named Otis tripped over a pile of sticks beside him. Tank, the intimidating Asian with bulging muscles similar to my own, stopped his friend’s fall.
We settled on the logs they had arranged around the flame.
“Is this fate or what?” Gorgo shoved a long stick into the dying fire, his hazel eyes gleaming. “So how are you faring, Michael? Have you recovered from your broken heart yet?”
When I growled, all eyes fell away from me. I didn’t want to talk about Simone in front of strangers and I also wanted to forget about her.
“All right.” Gorgo rubbed his hands by the flame. “What’s our next plan?”
