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The Elder Fae shrieked as an ugly brew of liquids and blood came rushing out of the socket. I struggled to keep out of its path—she might have venomous or acidic blood or a whole bunch of nasty things in the stew that made up her bodily fluids.
The attack shifted her attention. While she was still holding tight to me, she was also trying to attend to her wound, and she let go of me with one of her right arms, using it to reach across in order to probe her wound.
As she did, Trillian brought his knife down across the jointed part of her elbow and sawed quickly. The forearm fell off, again streaming what I could only think of as bug juice onto the ground.
I closed my eyes, tired of the whole thing. Focusing on an inner flicker of light, I nurtured it brighter and realized I was touching the core of the death magic that Morio and I used. Struggling to remember his part along with mine, I clumsily fashioned it into a purple globe, stroking it with my mind. The energy swelled until the globe was flaming, burning with the flame of karmic retribution. I called upon the power of the Netherworld to fuel me, to channel through my body. A sinuous thread began to pulse, swirling around, catching me up in it.
Oh, I missed this—this practice. And I missed my connection with Morio. We’d been away from our magic for only about three weeks, but it was too long. He was my priest, he was my mage, and I was his witch.
As I worked the power, I sensed him on the outskirts. He was sleeping, but he’d found his way to me, in a slow, encircling way.
Do not extend your energy, my love.
I can help you without hurting myself, came his reply.
You are still wounded. The ghosts siphoned much of your energy away. You must replenish it before tackling battles, even from the dream state.
Shut up, my beautiful wench, and let me help you. I am healing faster than you think.
And I quieted down, even through my concern, and let him work with me to fine-tune the flame.
You are ready. Aim for her third eye. Aim for her psychic center, especially since she’s one of the Elder Fae. She won’t be able to feed off this spell. And then Morio withdrew.
I sucked in a deep breath, still trying to avoid her snapping fangs, and then I pushed the flame outside of me, aiming directly for her third eye. There was a huge flash and she screamed. The next moment, her grip loosened and Smoky pulled me away from her, and we all backed off as she began to shake, surrounded by a violet lightning, and then—with a loud crack that split the air—she dropped to the ground.
Panting, I stared at the still form, but Delilah’s warning shook me out of my thoughts. “Hurry! The house—they’re coming for us!”
A glance at the house showed that the mass of swirling spiders and beetles were sweeping off the house in a moving shroud across the ground, headed our way. I let out a squeak.
“That’s our cue to make tracks! It’s time to shift over to the astral.”
Smoky swept open his long white trench and I snuggled on one side, Trillian holding tight to me, and Delilah snuggled on the other. As he enfolded us in the voluminous coat, the familiar shifting lurched beneath our feet as we flickered out . . . and then onto the astral.
The mist rolled thick here, and I caught my breath before I remembered I didn’t have to breathe. The astral realm was one of those places that you couldn’t think too hard about because the conundrums would drive you crazy if you tried to reason them out.
The mist rolled ankle deep along the ground, covering everything in sight, but I could see barren tree stumps—or what passed for trees here—and the air was a shimmering silver, darker toward the horizon and lighter toward the zenith of the sky. Boulders littered the path, although here on the astral they could just as easily be a creature as a rock.
That was one of the things to remember: Though the surroundings took on a look similar to what we saw on the physical, you could never count on things to be the same. In other words: A rock is a rock isn’t necessarily a rock.
My body began to tingle. I always felt alive and vibrant on the astral—ever since I first learned how to navigate it back in Otherworld. That was one of the few magical tasks with which I’d actually impressed my teachers. I’d taken to astral travel like a duck takes to water.
Now I glanced around and tried to get my bearings. Chase was still over here, I could feel it in my bones. And my bones were proving to be a good premonitionary tool, if that was a word.
Closing my eyes, I let myself drift. The others stood back, waiting. After a moment, I sensed a far-distant spark that felt terribly familiar, and I locked my sights on it.
“I’ve got him, I think. But it’s a ways.” I looked at Smoky. “My love, can three of us ride on your back as I direct you where to go?” I quickly gave him directions.
I could run faster on the astral than just about anybody I knew, except for Rozurial, but it made sense to conserve our energy in case we found ourselves in battle. And though I could run faster out here than Smoky could fly, he could fly faster than Trillian and Delilah could run. This way, we wouldn’t chance getting separated. Also, a side benefit: There were beasties on the astral that were mean as sin, and some, it would take all our efforts to destroy. If they saw a dragon on the move, they might think twice about attacking us.
Smoky nodded and motioned for us to move back. Within seconds, he shimmered into dragon form and snaked his neck down for us to climb on. I sat at the front at the base of where his neck met his shoulders. I was used to riding on his back when we went out for nighttime flights up near his barrow where we wouldn’t chance being seen.
Delilah gave Trillian a little boost—she was taller than he was, though he was stronger, and then she hopped up herself. They clung behind me. I pressed my knees to Smoky’s side and leaned forward, holding tight to the loose hairs that roped off his neck. They whipped around my waist, and around Trillian and Delilah, as he launched himself into the air.
We soared up and once again, my heart lifted. Hyto might be out to kill me, but his son was my husband and flying on Smoky’s back had become one of my greatest joys. As he tipped a wing to the left, turning so we were heading in the direction in which I’d sensed the familiar energy, I heard a laugh from behind me.
“I can’t believe I’ve never done this before! This is fun! I’m surprised you aren’t scared, though,” Delilah said. “I know you’re afraid of heights.”
I grinned, even though she couldn’t see my face. “I’m not afraid of much when I’m on Smoky’s back.”
