Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
He chuckled. “Fair enough.” He noticed Poppy looked excited but also tired. “You must be exhausted.” He kept forgetting she was only a hundred. At her age, he’d required sleep every twenty-four hours. She’d fueled curses and fought for her life all night, so maybe he ought not to have ravished her so many times? “My young mate.”
She tilted her face up to him. “When you look at me all tender like that, I’m defenseless.”
He pressed a lingering kiss to her lips. “Why don’t you rest a bit?” He led her over to a nearby settee. “I’ll stand watch.”
She sat, retrieving the journal from her bag. “What a night.” She opened the book, skimming pages.
“Never had a stranger—or better—one.” Even so, he was ready for it to end. Rök turned back to the window, hungering for dawn.
As he kept vigil, light effects and breezes made the terrain appear to shift. How differently he viewed this place now that he better understood the tragic history. The Ending of Everything. Over his shoulder, he asked, “Anything else interesting in that journal?”
“Most of the pages have blood on them. My sister Sage can clean it up once we get loose. But I did read something strange: Nightside is real. I found it! All the answers lie in Nightside. Have you ever heard of that place?”
“Sounds familiar.” Hadn’t his parents told him about a realm one did not ever want to visit? The answer was on the tip of his tongue when a different kind of light drew his attention to the cemetery. Instead of the coming daybreak, he spied . . . a growing green blaze.
Ghouls had amassed, and not just the wife and kids. Seven more had joined them. A true troop.
The Valkyries kept their numbers in check in populated areas, but out here, nothing had tamped down the swell. As long as that troop stayed away, he and Poppy would be okay—
The green mass started toward the castle. Fantastic. One scratch or a mere fang graze spelled doom, and a ghoul’s entire reason for being was to infect others.
As they neared, he made out other details. Recognition hit, and his stomach clenched. Poppy’s foreboding had been bang-on. These were no ordinary ghouls.
Trying to sound casual, he said, “So do you think the tracing ban will lift as soon as the door opens?” Even if those ghouls rushed in, Rök might be able to teleport her without a fight.
She glanced up from the journal. “No. I think all the spells will remain. Nothing should change except for the door opening. But you can trace me from the steps outside.”
He would need a foot or so of clearance for both of them. If the ghouls charged the door, would he have enough time to strike them down before it closed again? “How long do you think it takes a raven to call four times?”
“It’s a big debate on the message boards. A lot of members believe magic must dictate the bird’s actions, and now we know”—she held up the journal—“that the wizard used it to call his kids in from play. If I had to guess, I’d say the raven caws every few seconds or so, mimicking the rhythm of a bell tower.”
So . . . a handful of seconds? Regardless, Rök couldn’t bet their lives on speculation.
He weighed his options.
Scenario one: not enough intel, likely mission failure. Can’t risk her.
Scenario two: mission failure.
Scenario three: supreme mission failure.
Once he’d exhausted dozens of possibilities, he stared off at his future in disbelief. Poppy and I aren’t making it out alive together.
“How wild is it that we’ll soon lay one more mystery to rest?” she said.
That wasn’t all they’d be laying to rest. Or, rather, to unrest.
She began musing aloud where they should get breakfast—“I’m thinking beignets and chicory coffee”—not noticing his tension.
Even as he monitored the threat skulking closer, he treasured her happy chatter. He wanted this taste of normalcy for just a little longer.
After searching for his mate for more than a thousand years, he’d claimed her, and she’d taken control of her curse. For a brief moment, he’d been able to envision their lives together. Talking over meals. Making love. Mercenary gigs as an indomitable team. Halfling pups.
Yes. Enjoy this taste. “So where would you like to live?” he asked, keeping his cool, even as he knew what he’d have to do.
These are my last minutes—as me.
“I’m not picky. As long as you’re there, it’s home.”
His eyes squeezed shut. Her heartfelt words pained him so badly that she might as well have struck him.
Cade had once described what being separated from Holly felt like: a huge hole through the chest that never healed. Exactly, friend. Rök wished he could send a message to Cade to watch over Poppy and safeguard her through the Accession.