Cryton was another poltergeist who’d been helping in this mission. He was as likable as Farley, but he’d also proven useful.
“There are a few encampments we’ve decided against taking you to,” Farley continued. “They’re too far away.”
“We should still see them,” Tucker said. “The more amsirah we have, the stronger we’ll all be.”
“Suit yourself. Unlike you, I’m already dead, so nothing in these woods could kill me.”
Oh, how I’d wished that wasn’t truemanytimes over the week. This blob of a dead amsirah was one of the most infuriating creatures I’d ever encountered. I’d uselessly contemplated all the ways I’d have killed him if he were still alive.
Farley floated over to bob in front of me as I climbed over a downed log. When the soft, damp moss stuck to my palms, I wiped them on my pants.
“How about you, Pretty Boy?” Farley inquired. “Do you think we should go to those encampments too?”
Ellery had told me the best way to deal with a poltergeist was to ignore them as they often got bored and moved on. I tried my best to do this, but my eye twitched at Farley’s question.
Beside me, Ianto smirked, and I felt Tucker watching me. I ground my teeth together as I restrained myself from trying to strangle Farley until his eyes popped out, but I couldn’t choke air, and that’s all he would be if I grabbed for him.
Instead of making an ass of myself by beating up the air, I ignored the floating ball of shit as I ducked a low-hanging branch. As the sun rose higher, more shadows dispersed beneath the golden rays piercing through the leaves.
Eventually, Farley floated away, but not before he gave me a smirk that said he knew he’d gotten to me. I scowled at his back.
“It’s up here,” Farley whispered.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Ryker
Ten feet before us,he stopped at the edge of the trees to survey what lay beyond. As I crept closer, I strained to hear the familiar sounds of an encampment. I was almost to Farley when I settled behind a tree to look at what lay beyond.
“Don’t bother,” Farley muttered.
“Don’t bother doing what?” Ianto asked.
“Trying to spy on them. They’re dead.”
There was no denying that as I gazed out at the bloody carnage beyond. Rising, I pulled my sword from its sheath before emerging from the trees.
I didn’t know what to make of whatever happened here. I’d seen and experienced a lot of death between my many battles with Leo and Doomed Valley, but I’d never seen anything like what happened to these amsirah.
Something had torn them apart. Their limbs littered the clearing, and intestines spilled from their stomachs. Some were missing their faces. They’d been either chewed or clawed off.
Each of their chests had a gaping hole that revealed their missing hearts. There was no sign of those hearts amid the blood-splattered trees, bedding, and food gathered near a low-burning fire.
I’d never seen so much blood. It dripped from the trees, coated the ground, and ran in rivulets down the small hill to my right. The air reeked of its coppery stench, and some body parts dangled like broken ornaments from branches.
“What did this?” Tucker asked.
“A cordou,” Farley replied.
“What is that?” I asked.
“It’s a scorpion-like beast with the head of a tiger. They use the point of their poisonous tail to tear out hearts and eat them. Like cats, they often play with their victims first, except they’re not as gentle with them.”
“No shit,” Ianto muttered.
“Is it still around?” I asked.
“Considering they hunt in packs, I hope not.”
