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“Maybe you should take that as a sign that you’re not welcome on Earth,” Lucien shouted.
“Oh, don’t worry. We’ll be leaving soon enough. We’ve just got to finish you lot off one last time. Or rather, we just need to kill one of you. Isn’t that right?” She smiled, her full blood-red lips stretching into a mockery of a grin. “Which one shall it be? John was kind enough to tell me about each and every one of you.”
“Mistress Ametrine, John has demanded that we not play with them,” a pestilent that stumbled up to her side grumbled. The pathetic creature was covered in sores and looked as if it were hanging on to the edge of life. Maybe it had spent far too much time on Earth already.
Ametrine sighed and absently waved one hand at the gathered Weavers. “Yes, yes. Fine. Kill them all and we’ll sort everything out when it’s over.”
The pestilents that had come with Ametrine poured out of the surrounding woods, descending on the camp with a monstrous roar of noise. Hale’s hand immediately shot out to grab Harrison’s arm, trying to pull him behind him for protection. His throat went dry and started to constrict at just the sight of at least a hundred pestilents, probably more.
“Lucien! Kill the witch!” Clay shouted.
The Fire Weaver lifted a hand toward the witch, but the wind gusted, whipping violently through the little valley they were nestled in. She flew into the air as if carried by the force of the gale, her cackle of glee dancing around them. Lucien drew back his hand, using it to shield his eyes against the debris now flying at them, making it hard to see.
A second later, a heavy fog rolled across the campsite, obscuring everything more than a foot away. There was only the eerie sound of hundreds of footsteps as they drew closer.
“Fuck! Hale?” Grey shouted.
“This isn’t me!” Hale immediately shouted.
“She’s a fucking weather witch,” Calder called out.
“I’ve had some luck with the weather,” Hale murmured, talking mostly to himself. “I’ve got her.”
Before he could shift into the air itself, Hale was jerked sideways, crashing into Harrison’s chest. Against the thick gray fog, there was only Harrison’s hard, angry face glaring at him in warning. “Watch yourself. Kill the witch. Come back to me.”
“Got it,” he said with a grin.
Harrison stole a hard, brief kiss that left Hale’s lips tingling and then shoved him away again. “Kick some ass.”
“Yes, sir!” Hale summoned up his powers, losing himself instantly to the overwhelming rush of lightness. As he rose into the air, he called on the wind, sending it rushing down through the valley to push aside some of the fog that stubbornly clung to the trees and rocks.
The noise of the clashing between the Weavers and the pestilents rose above the fog in a tangle of gunfire, roaring flames, rushing water, animal cries, and even the creak of tree limbs. His heart twisted in his chest, leaving him wishing to help his companions, but he needed to deal with the weather witch first.
Above the fog, the clouds churned and darkened the sky as Ametrine summoned up a storm. Lightning flickered behind the thick masses followed by the crash of thunder. The weather witch stood out among the clouds, her black duster flapping madly in the rising wind. Her hair became a writhing tangle of snakes about her head. She laughed, but the sound was carried away before it could reach his ears.
Pulling on his gift, he sent a gust of wind to her, but it did little more than shove her a short distance against the sky. No, he needed more than this.
With a flick of her wrist, lightning shot from a nearby cloud. The blinding white light streaked across the sky, headed straight for him. There was nowhere to go. He couldn’t possibly move fast enough. So he let go, lost himself in the powers the goddesses gave him, and trusted they knew what they were doing. The power of the Air Weaver enveloped him, making him the air itself.
And the lightning passed straight through him to bounce along the clouds.
Oh, that was helpful.
He might have also gotten some small glee in watching Ametrine lose her shit because he’d found a way around her attempts to kill him.
But the wicked grin that followed on her lips wiped away any lingering joy. She flicked her wrist again, but this time, the lightning slammed down to the ground. He couldn’t see through the fog if she’d hit the Weavers, if she’d hit Harrison, but it was enough to make his heart stop.
Rage bubbled through his veins and gripped his heart. Without thought, he poured that anger straight into his storm, letting his power seize control of the system she’d created. A deafening crash of thunder hammered the valley and the clouds broke open in the form of thick snow flurries. It shouldn’t have been cold enough for snow, but Hale’s heart was frozen against this woman’s plight, her people’s suffering. She’d just tried to kill the man he loved. There was no room for empathy or forgiveness.
