“I’ll let you be the one to tell Sage that.”
The sharp stretch of magic in Patrick’s soul as the soultakers ate the last vestige of his spell made him grimace. Jono growled, as if he could feel what Patrick was going through and didn’t like it.
Zachary hadn’t moved, but his magic users had repositioned themselves to better cover the stone pathway leading to the beehive-shaped huts. Patrick sank his free hand into Jono’s fur, giving him a little shake.
“Think you can find Órlaith?” Patrick asked.
Jono growled, and that was all the answer Patrick needed.
Patrick opened himself up to the soulbond again, sending his awareness through Jono’s soul and down to the ley line burning below. Skellig Michael didn’t have a nexus below, but the ley line that ran directly beneath it was powerful enough to make Patrick light-headed for a second when he tapped it.
Beside him, Jono didn’t react, eyes on the enemy as Zachary conjured up several more mageglobes. Blood magic had a particular feel to it that made Patrick want a shower. Magic sparked at Patrick’s fingertips as more mageglobes spun into existence in front of him. The soultakers stalked forward, their mouths opened wide as their tongues lashed out, tasting magic in the air.
An explosion of magic behind Zachary’s position had some of the Dominion Sect magic users turning to face the new threat. The spells they tossed at the group of Hellraisers coming up behind them crashed harmlessly against Nadine’s shields.
Zachary clenched both his hands into fists before jerking his arms to the side. The rolling wave of power that exploded their way was followed by the soultakers. The top layer of Patrick’s shields sheared off, with the tearing pull in his soul starting up again. The glare of Zachary’s spell faded, replaced by soultakers who’d closed the distance between them in the courtyard.
Teeth sank into Patrick’s shields, the demons too close for comfort. Keith kept his finger off the trigger of his rifle, knowing that bullets were wasted on soultakers. Which left Patrick and Jono to take the lead.
“Get ready,” Patrick said.
He lobbed another mageglobe at Zachary, filling it with raw magic meant for explosions and nothing else. Patrick set them off at the same instant he created a hole in his shields for Jono to pass through. Jono attacked the nearest soultaker, dragging it to the ground while Patrick sacrificed mageglobes to the other pair of soultakers to give Jono time to fight.
Screams erupted over them, and Patrick jerked his head back in time to see the Sluagh descending on their position. The restless dead crashed against his shields and the area around them, clawing at his shields. Jono snarled, dodging the clawed legs of a few spider fae while trying to force the soultaker onto the defensive.
Patrick shoved his shields past where Jono fought, which meant, while Jono was safe from the Sluagh, none of them were safe from the soultaker that came with him.
Keith dropped back down the stairs for cover. “Motherfucker!”
Patrick put himself between Keith and the soultaker, dagger at the ready. Half his attention was on how Jono was herding the demon his way, the rest was on the Sluagh struggling to tear through his shields and the other soultakers that were getting damned close.
“Get with the magic, Razzle Dazzle,” Keith said.
“Oh, fuck you, it’s not like I enjoy getting my soul sucked dry,” Patrick yelled over his shoulder.
He didn’t rely on his magic, but his dagger and Jono’s ability to corral a demon most others ran from. Which would be the smart option, but Patrick had never been one forsmartover getting the job done—not when lives were on the line.
One of Zachary’s spells exploded against Patrick’s shields right as he lunged for the soultaker’s back. He drove his dagger through the demon’s thick skin even as the backwash of the magical hit brought him to his knees. Patrick dragged the soultaker down with him, black spots flickering at the edge of his vision as heavenly magic burned through the demon quicker than Jono’s teeth could sink into its body.
The soultaker burned to ash in his grip, the remnants of it sinking into the mud. The other soultakers eating their way through his shields screamed loud enough that the headache building in the back of Patrick’s head exploded through his skull. He shoved the pain aside with long practice, getting to his feet. Jono turned to face the soultakers who had nearly eaten their way through Patrick’s shields, lips pulled back in a snarl.
A storm of ghostly arrows fell from above, aimed by the Wild Hunt. The arrows slammed into the Sluagh and forced them away from the shields. The soultakers shook off the attack as if it were nothing.
“Take cover,” Patrick ordered Keith, who ducked down the stairs without argument. “Nerys! We need a lift!”
The Wild Hunt flew over the courtyard, raining hell on the Dominion Sect magic users, forcing them to scatter. Patrick caught sight of Zachary sprinting for the beehive-shaped domes at the rear of the courtyard. Patrick tore down his shields in order to deny the soultakers more magical fuel for their insatiable needs.
Nerys descended on her horse like an avenging angel of war. She held out her hand, and Patrick grabbed for it as she rode past. She swung him up behind her, the fatal wound in her chest that had killed her long ago looking as if it would tear her torso in two as she moved. A pair of riders cast a golden net that scooped Jono up in a way Patrick would laugh about if the situation wasn’t so life or death.
“Drop us on the next level!” Patrick yelled
The Wild Hunt flew low over the domes, dropping them both into a waterlogged courtyard. Patrick flung himself off Nerys’ horse while Jono shook himself free of the net. They fell fifteen feet to the ground, ready for the hit. Patrick took the impact in his knees and ankles, stumbling through the momentum so he didn’t break any bones. Jono landed beside him, digging all four paws into the ground to steady himself. The Wild Hunt rode back into the sky where the Sluagh was regrouping, screaming a challenge Nerys seemed intent on meeting.
Then Jono’s head swung around, ears pricked forward as he zeroed in on the small dome at the end of the upper courtyard. Patrick followed where Jono looked, seeing the stone there practically glowing with wards he couldn’t read, but he could feel the magic embedded there down to his bones, despite his shields. Those were wards set by an immortal, to hide something—or someone—of worth.
The heavy boom of an explosion directly above them nearly deafened him, making Patrick hunch over instinctively. Patrick looked up at the violet shield stretching over their area of the courtyard and the hissing, burning blood magic that crawled over the impact site. Patrick didn’t know where Nadine was, but he was grateful for the assist.
Patrick ran for the warded dome but skidded to a halt when a soultaker stepped out of the low opening, its whiplike tongue lashing the air. Jono didn’t stop, barreling toward the soultaker with a single-minded focus that would worry Patrick if he knew the other man couldn’t handle the threat.
