“Where?”
She lifts one hand and points over my right shoulder.
I turn, following the line of her finger, seeing nothing at first as I slow while still pumping my wings to keep up aloft.
Then I see it. A figure of a being cloaked in shadow. Something is attempting to blend in with one of the tallest of the trees. Hunched over. Motionless. It clings to the topmost dead end of the pine with unnatural balance. Its wings are draped downward like those of a drooping branch and its leaves. If the tree were full of life, I would have never noticed it in this weather. But as it stands, the entire forest rests in death, burned away some time ago.
It’s humanoid in shape, yet wrong in proportion, and curled inward. Its head is bowed. It’s also still enough to pass for one of those menacing immortals who spend more than half their lives in stone.
But this is no gargoyle.
Very few, if any, of those hybrid creatures created by the fallen centuries ago remain. Like the others, they fled to other realms, leaving this one to its demise.
The longer I look, the clearer the absence becomes. I press my awareness toward it and come back with nothing. There is no soul. And no soul means I can’t draw on it and pull the living force from its body.
I keep moving, never taking my awareness of it away. Not yet sure if it poses a threat to us, and I’m not willing to let down my guard.
Maybe it hasn’t spotted us.
As if the notion, the thought, calls its attention to our location, branches creak and snap softly as it straightens, wings unfurling with a wet, leathery sound.
Hell’s damnation.
A bout of thunder rumbles in the distance, and I roll my eyes upward.
If that is a message I’m to take as a warning, you need to work on your timing.
Rising fast and higher than I expect, the creature ascends into the air with powerful, deliberate wingbeats. Its pale wings are vast—batlike with leathery dark membranes stretched between elongated, skeletal fingers. Their edges are tattered and ragged, as if eaten away.
It flies west and circles the sky once. Then it angles toward us.
“What do we do?” the priestess asks, her voice cracking. Her fear is palpable. Her light eyes are more prominent in the dim light that surrounds us. Rain has dampened her hair and skin, and yet she is still stunning.
I say nothing as I think through how to avoid fighting a demon with her in my arms.
She adjusts to get a better look over my left shoulder and tightens her hold around my neck. I feel her breath hitch and brush against the side of my face.
My body shivers in response, but I ignore it. Now is definitely not the time for such things.
“It’s coming.”
Tone resolute, I give her the truth. “Yes.”
She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “Will it catch up to us?”
“Likely,” I answer, already adjusting my grip. “Since I can’t fly at full speed while carrying another person.”
“Then put me down.” She scans the ground below, then points toward a large break in the trees. “There.”
A sound decision, so I angle us toward it at once.
The wind fights me. Rain lashes across my face, visibility is poor, and I shift with every gust. I beat my wings harder, pushing forward, cutting through the storm as I descend.
Behind us is a wealth of light, followed by a sharp crack.
Yes, yes. Thank you. I know.
Shaking my head, I aim us for the opening, dropping faster now. I tuck my wings slightly, using them to guide and steer our fall.
