“We came for the harrow stone,” Sahira said.
Brokk admired her calm as she continued to lean into the wind battering them.
“You’ll never get it,” the crone replied.
“I have anextremelyimportant reason for it. One that could save countless lives,” Sahira said.
The fire hovering over the witch’s palm swelled. Brokk was certain she was about to launch those flames at Sahira.
Sahira must have suspected the same thing as her chin rose. “If you do not give it to us, you very well could be dooming countless others to death. We have come here to use it for good; we have come here in the hopes it will help us stop evil, and we needyourhelp to do it.”
When the woman stepped closer to Sahira, she had to tilt her head back to look up at the crone who stood a good four inches over her five-foot-five height. Brokk nervously eyed the women. He had no weapons, but if the crone tried to harm Sahira, he would take her down.
The crone studied Sahira before she closed her fingers around the fire, and the flames went out. Brokk nearly went tumbling forward when the wind abruptly cut off. He staggered a step before righting his balance.
The sudden hush after the berating wind was a welcome relief as he glanced around at the witches and other immortals who had crept closer throughout the exchange. He didn’t look behind him to see what was there. Instead, he kept his attention focused on the woman before him, but at least he would hear any attacker coming from there if they came after him.
“You’re telling the truth,” the woman stated.
“Yes, Kaylia, I am,” Sahira said.
“I will hear what you have to say.”
The words looked like they were pulled involuntarily from her, and her face puckered like she’d sucked a lemon. The woman glanced at the other witches before turning to glower at him.
She could toast him, and she would enjoy doing it, but he couldn’t stop himself from grinning at the stunning woman. He felt like Orin, but he enjoyed irritating her.
With a dismissive upturn of her slender nose, Kaylia turned away to speak to the other witches. “Go back to your homes,” she commanded.
The witches hesitated before breaking up and walking away. Kaylia stood and stared after them for a minute before she flicked a disdainful glance at Sahira. As a half vampire, too, Brokk found the look infuriating, but Sahira remained docile.
If they didn’t require this crone’s help, he’d tell her to take the stone and shove it up her ass.
“I better find this worth my time, or I’m going to make you both pay for it,” Kaylia vowed.
“It will be,” Sahira promised.
Brokk didn’t speak. He had no idea what this woman would find worth her time, and he wasn’t about to make any promises to this witch when dozens of others surrounded them.
Besides, if he opened his mouth, Kaylia would not like what came out.
Chapter Eighteen
Cole’s eyescracked open before he closed them against the influx of light. It felt like someone was peeling away layers of his skull. White lights flashed against the backs of his eyelids.
He struggled against the wave of blackness trying to bury him as his stomach heaved. Sweat broke out on his forehead and slid down his back as he tried not to vomit.
He was in too much pain; if he threw up now, his head might explode and his insides would tear apart. At first, he couldn’t recall why he ached so bad, and then memories of the battle started to return…
The blood, the death, the fae sword piercing his heart, and the agony erupting in his chest. And then,Lexi!
His eyes flew open again as he recalled her on that battlefield.Where is she?
Another knife stabbed into his eyes, but it wasn’t as bad this time, and he ignored it to take in his surroundings. He was in his bedroom, lying on his bed, and surrounded by clean sheets. The chair he slept in when Lexi was here was gone, and his father’s sword leaned against the wall near where the chair usually sat.
And then, he spotted it in the doorway with Lexi sitting in it. Focused on the other room, she stared at what he assumed was the door. The same fae sword that once pierced his heart rested across her lap.
The regal way she sat reminded him of a warrior queen, and he recalled how the fire of the battlefield created a halo around her that set her hair ablaze. She’d been a warrior then, and she was one now.
