“I never quite got your name,” Ezra says with what he probably thinks is a sexy villain grin. “I'd like to know who it is I'm killing tonight.”
The woods around us are basically a horror movie soundtrack—screams, fighting, the whole shebang—but there's something else too. Low growls. Rattling that definitely isn't maracas. Leaves and branches snapping like nature's own warning system. The moon hangs overhead like a giant spotlight, practically screaming “It's showtime!” to every nasty thing that calls these woods home.
“It's Brynn,” I reply, planting my feet instead of backing up like a sane person would. “Brynn Salem.”
“Ah, Salem scum,” Ezra says. “I'll kill you slow, then.”
“I'm not alone here.” Gods, could I sound any more like a cheesy horror movie victim?
“Do you think I'm afraid of whatever devil spawn or vampires or werewolves lurk in these woods?” He laughs like I just told him the lamest joke ever. “We came equipped for all of them. Don't think you and your people will get much from pulling us into this place.”
Another scream rips through the night, this one with that special pitch that says “something is eating me alive.”
This time, Ezra flinches. Not so cocky now, are we?
“Oh, I think we're getting something, which is better than nothing,” I say, channeling my inner badass even though my knees feel like jelly.
My fingertips buzz like I stuck them in an electrical socket. Helena, Ezekiel, and Angus are here—well, their ghostly essences—making the air feel thick as soup. They're not at full power, but hey, three partially charged ancestors versus one clearblood with a fancy whip? I'll take those odds. I'm saving my Gaudian Pulse for when I can practically kiss him on the nose. Though with that whip keeping me at a distance? Yeah, fat chance of that happening anytime soon.
“It won't change your outcome,” Ezra snaps and lashes his whip out again.
I dodge—barely—and the sharp whip slices into the tree beside me. Wood explodes like nature's shrapnel, and something hot stings my cheek. Blood trickles into the corner of my mouth, metallic and warm.
“Ah! You absolute trash goblin!” I spit. At least it’s only wood splinters that caught me, and not the tip of his whip.
But he's already winding up for round two.
My hand shoots up on its own—literally, like, not-my-decision up—glowing red-hot as the whip jerks backward. That wasfast. Ezra's face does this priceless goldfish impression while distant screams echo through the woods.Please be a clearblood dying horribly, please be a clearblood...
“What the actual...” I whisper, as three distinct personalities flood my brain. My ancestors just hijacked my body like it's a rental car with unlimited mileage. Their cold emotions crash through my head—ancient, pissed-off, and ready to throw down.
Ezra's still doing his stunned mullet routine, so I swipe blood from my lip and fling a shimmering pulse at him. But this isn't my usual sad little sparkle attack—this thing blazes crimson like a radioactive light.
He ducks, then throws his whip at me again. But it lashes a few inches to my left; another miss.
“My turn,” I say and rush toward him, one thumb already drawing the Gaudian rune in my right palm.
The closer I get, the better the target.
“Think again.” Ezra smirks.
I hear it. The hiss of the whip coiling and coming up from behind. The snap in the air as it wraps around my neck. I gasp andclaw, lungs screaming for air as I fall to my knees. I didn’t see it coming.
Everything turns white before my eyes.
My hands burn hot. My ancestors’ spirit power is rapidly withering.
They tried their best, I know they did.
I can’t breathe.
“I'll go after your sister, next,” Ezra whispers, his spell lighting the whip electric blue. The heat sears into my skin, and I scream with what little oxygen I have left.
Somewhere nearby, a branch snaps.
Two shadows bolt out of the darkness like ninjas. One slices through the whip while the other slams into Ezra hard enough to make him eat dirt. Those snickers? Unmistakable. The incubi twins.Just. Great.
“Out of all the... creepy crawlers in this... place,” I wheeze, yanking the dead whip off my neck.
