There was the sound of movement on the other side of the gorge. They shared a glance. Shea’s eyes were wide and afraid.
That hadn’t sounded like their people. Worse, it was coming from the opposite direction. Their people would have come over the ridge at her back.
Patrick grabbed her arm. “You have no choice now. Leave me and go.”
Shea ignored him, looking around, hoping inspiration would strike or that she would suddenly spot a handy winged horse to carry them to safety. There was no horse, but she did get an idea.
She turned and grabbed her father’s arms dragging him to several flat rocks that formed a small tent. After checking to make sure there was nothing waiting in the small burrow, she pulled him into the protection of its crevasse, hiding him from view.
Once that was done, she crouched next to him. “I’ll draw them off if necessary. If I don’t come back, wait until one of the others come looking for you. I have no doubt they’ll be here as soon as they deal with their own beast problems. Then come find me.”
He stopped her with a touch on her arm. “You can use the Lux. As one of its line, it’ll respond to your desires. Be careful, if you’re conflicted even a little, it will consume you and everything around you.”
She nodded, putting her hand over his. “I’ll be right back.”
He let her go. She stood and darted away from his cover, moving through the ravine they’d tumbled into.
She hadn’t made it far before a shape rushed at her. It was on her before she could react, pinning her to the side of a large stone formation.
A strange, dispassionate face peered down at her. Shea noted a resemblance between this creature and Covath. The two could be the same species if not for the lack of wings on his back.
He had the same midnight skin. Unlike Covath’s which acted like a black hole, sucking in all light so none escaped, this mythological’s skin was almost opalescent. He seemed to shine with an inner light, much like the night sky.
Shea noticed all this despite the forearm banded across her throat and his face inches from hers.
He picked her up and slammed her back into the rock behind her.
“Well, well, a little mouse has poked up her head,” the mythological said, his voice cool. “I was wondering why I felt eyes on us these past few days.”
Shea gurgled, his arm cutting off any possibility of speech. She prayed her father stayed where she’d put him, that he didn’t try to be the hero.
On the bright side, it looked like she was going to get the chance to test her theory.
“What’s this? The little mouse would like to speak?” He sounded dispassionate, uninterested in the answer, not lifting the pressure on her throat even a little. “I’m sorry, little mouse, I don’t have conversations with my food.”
Shea’s mouth shaped a word. It took several stuttering tries before she was able to rasp two syllables. “Co-vath.”
The creature went very still, his face an indistinct blur above her. Her vision began to darken as unconsciousness encroached.
The pressure against her throat abruptly ceased. She fell to her knees, coughing and choking, one hand going to her throat as she sucked in that most life-giving and oft taken for granted of substances—air.
“Well, well, it seems this mouse has learned a pretty trick,” the creature said. “Well, then, go on. Impress me, little mouse.”
Shea continued to gasp as she drew in air, her bruised throat protesting. Her preoccupation with breathing left her little time to marshal her thoughts.
The creature lost its patience, reaching for her. “Time’s up, little mouse.”
Shea blanched and shied away, scuttling back on her hands and butt in an awkward crab walk. “Covath sent me.”
The mythological froze, the expression on his face full of vulnerability, his clawed hand still outstretched.
Shea eyed that hand with dislike and no small trace of fear. Those claws could easily cut through her flesh.
The mythological gave her a suspicious look and straightened, folding his arms over his chest in a distinctly masculine manner. The flash of vulnerability was gone, leaving only mockery behind.
“I think you’re lying,” he challenged. “Covath barely notices the mice that infest these lands. I doubt he would send such a one as you to do the work of a lion.”
Shea’s laugh was dry and rusty. “You might think so, but desperate times and all that.”
