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He laughed again. “Are you always this violent?”
“No.”
“I’m not sure I believe that. But, no, I do not want you to use it on me,” he replied. “We’re not alone.”
Leafy branches rattled, shook by a sudden burst of high wind. I tightened my grip on the dagger as I looked up. The limbs had stilled, but there was a sound, a low moan that came from deep within the woods.
Ash bent once more, retrieving a scabbard. Gripping the silver hilt, he withdrew the short sword I’d seen him use before.
Seeing it reminded me of what I’d thought when he first used it. “Why do you carry a sword?”
He looked over at me. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“You’re a god. Do you really need a sword?”
Ash eyed me. “There is all manner of things that I can do and try,” he said. Something about his tone and the intensity in his stare made my skin even warmer. “Things I’m sure you’d find as equally interesting as I find your bravery.”
I sucked in an edgy breath as his words made me think of those damn books in the Atheneum. The illustrated ones.
“But just because I can do something, doesn’t mean I should,” he finished, snapping me out of my wayward thoughts.
My gaze shifted to the shadowy tree line and then back to him. A god with limitations? Interesting.
“We are about to have company,” he said, and I blinked. “I don’t believe they will be nearly as entertaining as you surely find me.”
“I don’t find you entertaining,” I muttered, and that was a foolish lie the god didn’t even bother challenging. Who wouldn’t be entertained by a god or Primal, even one as annoying as he? “These woods are haunted. What we heard could just be spirits.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes. They like to moan and make all manner of obnoxious noises.” I sent him a frown. “Shouldn’t you know that, being that you’re from the Shadowlands?”
Ash stared into the woods. “These are not spirits.”
“No one enters these woods,” I reasoned. “It has to be a spirit.”
“I entered these woods,” he pointed out.
“But you’re a god.”
“And what makes you think that what is coming is of your mortal realm?”
I halted, my stomach hollowing.
“I have a question for you. Are your spirits flesh and bone? The ones that haunt these woods?”
My gaze flicked up. All I saw was the darkness among the elms. “No.” I turned to him. “Of course, not.”
Ash lifted the sword, pointing the blade toward the trees. “Then what would you call these things?”
“What things?” I leaned forward, squinting. There were only shadows, but then I saw something drifting out of the darkness between the elms, a figure cloaked in black. A nightmare.
Chapter 11
They almost looked mortal, but if they were once that, they weren’t anymore.
Their skin held the waxy pallor of death, scalps bare of hair, eyes endless black pits, and mouths…they were all wrong. Their mouths were stretched too far across the cheeks as if someone had carved out a wider smile for them. And that mouth appeared sewn shut like the Shadow Priests.
I unsheathed the blade. “What are they?” I whispered, quickly counting six of them.
“Definitely not wayward spirits.”
Slowly, I looked over at him. “No, really?”
One side of his lips curved up. “They’re known as Gyrms,” he answered. “This type? They’re called Hunters.”
This type? There were more of these things? I had never heard of such a creature. “Why would they be here?”
“They must be looking for something.”
“Like what?” I asked.
Ash spared me a glance. “That is a very good question.”
My heart thumped erratically against my ribs as the Hunters stood there, staring at us—or at least that was what I thought. I couldn’t be sure with those holes for eyes. My stomach churned as the urge to run seized me.
But I hadn’t run from anything since I was a child, and I wouldn’t start now.
An unearthly moan filled the air once more, and the trees shuddered in response. The Hunters moved in unison, sweeping forward in a vee.
Ash struck before I had a chance to respond, thrusting his sword through the back of one and into the chest of another, striking down two with one blow. The creatures made no sound, their bodies only spasming.
“Gods,” I rasped.
He looked over his shoulder as he pulled the sword free. “Impressed?”
“No,” I lied, jerking back a step when the two recently impaled creatures collapsed into themselves. It was like they’d been drained of all moisture with a snap of a finger. They shriveled in a matter of seconds and then shattered into nothing but a fine dusting of ash that was gone before it hit the ground.
“You should go home.” Ash moved forward, sword at his side. “This doesn’t concern you.”
The remaining creatures continued forward, hands reaching around to their backs. They unsheathed swords with shadowstone blades.
