The beast yanked him closer to the tree line.
Using my body to block Teal’s view, I lifted my free hand and called on Wolgen Smit’s death magic. The ugly red, purple, and black lights shot from my palm and hit the wolven square in the back.
The beast staggered before dropping Flynn’s ankles. It had worked—Smit’s death magic had actually worked. Then the wolven turned, and its lips pulled away from its teeth, and my brief triumph turned to terror. It definitely wasn’t dead. Its claws grew longer. And sharper. It snarled at us. At me. My attempt at murder had made it mad.
I raised my hand again, gathering currents of death magic and adding a sharp gust of Grayson’s wind, then I released the combined force toward the wolven.
The beast stumbled backward, lifting its head toward the sky and howling.
A fresh round of shivers raced down my back. Was it calling its pack? What magic could stop this thing?
On the ground, Flynn scrambled backward before climbing to his feet.
The giant beast bent its back legs and then launched itself at him.
Fighting pain and exhaustion, I shaped an ice spear between my hands and, using the last of my energy, hurled it straight at the beast’s chest. The spear struck low, splitting the monster’s skin. Its shaft embedded deeply in the wolven’s belly.
The injured wolven twisted its terrifying head my way and roared.
Flynn, who was halfway to standing, tripped on his bedroll and fell to the ground. “Fuck!”
The wolven shifted its focus back to Flynn.
As Flynn struggled on the ground, I kept my eyes on the wolven. I formed another ice spear and threw it. Weakly.
The spear landed too high—in the beast’s neck.
Its answering roar was loud enough to shake the trees surrounding the clearing.
I formed a third spear. I’d missed low, and I’d missed high. Maybe this time I could hit the wolven’s damned heart.
My gaze flicked to Flynn, who was desperately digging in his blankets.
Idiot.
I returned my focus to the wolven. It lurched toward me, close enough that I could smell its rancid breath.
I tightened my grip on the spear, but before I could throw, the idiot on the ground managed to find his sword in the mess of blankets, lunge forward, and bury his blade deep in the monster’s back.
The beast fell to the earth, and the light faded from its eyes. I stood frozen, staring at the massive beast I’d helped kill. Killed with magic I’d stolen from a dead man and borrowed from my traveling companions. My hands shook as I let the spear dissipate, hopefully without Flynn or Teal noticing. Then I drew air deep into my lungs. “Are you all right?”
Flynn stared at the dead wolven, then at me, then back at the corpse. His mouth worked soundlessly for several seconds. “That’s not—shields don’t—” He shook his head. “Where the hell did the ice spear come from? You just—” He gestured helplessly at the dead wolven. “Where did the spear go?”
“Are you hurt?” I repeated. “That thing dragged you across the clearing. Are you hurt?” Not that I cared. I didn’t. Not even a little bit. I wasn’t even sure why I’d bothered to ask.
He kept gaping at me. Perhaps he had a head injury—his chin was tilted at an odd angle. “How did you do that?”
“Do what?” He’d have to be more specific, and even then, I might not answer.
He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. “The spears. Where did they come from?”
Before I could formulate a lie, dark fog invaded the clearing. It carried the scent of cold rot. “What’s that?” I pointed at the encroaching fog.
“Wraiths.” Teal sounded shaken, and I turned to look at him.
“Deadly?”
The color drained from his face.
