Page 69 of Dream Reaper

Jerrid’s knee hit the forest floor, a stick cracking beneath him. Darkness swam before his vision, a swirling darkness that possessed a will and a mind of its own.

The shadow.

“Hold…on—” But he couldn’t say anything else.

Deep inside his mind, screaming in agony, Dragon began to buckle.

CHAPTER 17

AVA

Jerrid’s cry of pain echoed through the forest, sending several bats shrieking into the darkness.

Ava quickened her pace, searching the shadows for signs of him. He had to be somewhere close by…

There, several dozen yards ahead of her, she saw his lean figure in the center of a small clearing, the back of his golden hair turned silver by the shaft of moonlight shining down on him. She opened her mouth, but he went down on one knee.

“Jerrid!”

He didn’t respond. Instead, his body angled sideways and pitched into a pile of moldering leaves. Ava dashed to his side, skidded to her knees, and tried to roll him over. Flames, he was so heavy!

He flopped lifelessly onto his back, eyes closed, face slack.

“Don’t be dead,” she whispered as she pressed her fingers against his exposed throat.

For a horrifying moment, she felt nothing. No pulse of life. No hint of movement.

Panic rose in the back of her throat, drowning out everything else. If he died, she would be alone in this horrible place, facing a monster she had already failed to defeat. If she tried to run, Talos stood between her and safety…and miles of dangerous woods too.

Then his pulse kicked against her searching fingers. Weak, barely discernible, but it was there.

“Oh, you’re okay,” she rasped, tilting her head back to stare up at the inky-black sky peeking through the treetops.

Whatever was going on inside him, he was still fighting—they were still fighting.

Helplessly, she let her hands fall against his chest, Finnr’s borrowed tunic rough against her fingertips. What the flames was she supposed to do? She’d already tried to fight this thing inside him and failed miserably. Prince Haryk would have died had Persis not come when she did. The only reason her prince lived was because of the Dunewatch healer.

Ava had done nothing.

She was nothing.

Her magic served no purpose, except to light fires and create accidental blood bonds, apparently.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember everything Persis had told her about the thing that now lived inside Jerrid. It was a curse, but something more. Something older and darker. Something that had found its way into Gelaira and exploited its weaknesses.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. So I know what you are. You’re a curse. You’re nightmares and shadow. You work through people’s minds, thriving on their fear to drive them mad. But what is it you really want? What are you trying to accomplish?”

If she could figure that out…maybe she could figure out a way to get rid of it.

Persis had found a way to drive it out of Haryk, but how had she done it? She’d used the night blood to strengthen her powers. But Haryk also had powers of his own—suppressed powers. Ava had seen him unleash them in that forest glen when he battled Talos.

No one had known he possessed such unimaginable strength.

If he hadn’t been able to defeat this thing without help, how were she and Jerrid ever to manage it? They were both broken things already.

Broken and useless and mad.

“Come on, Jerrid. You need to wake up,” she muttered as she gave him a hard shake. “I can’t figure this out without you. I need you.”