“Are we going to die?” spluttered Dean, his heart racing.
Silas shrugged. “Probably.”
Dean whined.
“The hunters must have made a tear in the Inbetween when they banished Artemis to hell,” said Silas as if it was nothing more than an interesting puzzle.
The imminent threat of death didn’t seem to bother Silas at all. Maybe because he is a necromancer, thought Dean weakly. It wouldn’t surprise him if his mate wasn’t at all afraid of dying or death, just not fond of Dean going first.
“As long as we go together, eh? Angel,” said Dean wryly.
The tsunami of love that roared down their mate bond rendered Dean speechless, thoughtless. It washed away all his fear. He had known Silas loved him, of course he did, but feeling the true depth of it was humbling. Dean would have cried, completely overcome with emotion, if he hadn’t been in life-threatening danger.
The shadows slithered closer, standing up. Looking very humanoid, just completely made of shadows. How on earth was he going to fight a shadow? Dean wondered helplessly. Presumably, claws and teeth would just go right through them.
Then, inexplicably, the shadows moved as one to drop to their knees. Dean stared, craning his neck to see the ones behind them. It was true, his eyes weren’t deceiving him. All thirteen of the shadowkin were kneeling.
“They are kneeling to you,” whispered Dean, as if Silas didn’t have his own eyes.
“No, they are kneeling to you,” said Silas.
Dean blinked. He cast his gaze around the shadows again. He was standing quite close to Silas, so it was hard to tell, but there was a slight angling of their bodies that suggested that Silas might be right.
“You’re the necromancer!” he hissed in alarm.
“You’re the undead!” Silas hissed back.
Dean swallowed. “You said I wasn’t a zombie?”
“You’re not, but you came back from the dead. So you are something special.”
“That’s ridiculous!” snapped Dean.
Silas took his gaze away from the shadowkin to glare at Dean. “How many people do you know who have risen again?”
Dean spluttered in outrage. “I’m not some werewolf Jesus!”
Silas gave an undignified snort laugh, before bursting out into proper laughter. His shoulders heaving. Dean turned to him as Silas wiped his eyes, still laughing. The sound of his mirth warmed Dean’s soul.
“I should have known that when I faced my final hour, you’d be making me laugh,” said Silas.
Dean turned to the still kneeling shadowkin. They were still, silent, waiting.
“I think we are going to be okay,” he said solemnly.
An idea struck Dean suddenly. He grabbed Silas’s shoulders and pulled the necromancer to stand in front of him. Silas stumbled and gave a little yelp of surprise.
“Find his son!” ordered Dean in his best Alpha voice. Surely these creepy things would be great at that?
In front of him, Silas flinched. “Dean! What if they take my head as a tracking device?”
“And you never harm or hurt him!” Dean added hurriedly, shaking Silas to make it clear who he was referring to.
The shadowkin flowed to their feet, bowed and slithered away faster than thought. Dean swallowed, his heart hammering. Was it over? Was it really going to work?
Silas let out a large exhale. “You can stop using me as a shield now,” he said, his tone teasing.
Dean released his grip on his mate’s shoulders and Silas turned around to face him, an amused smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes.
