“Shut up and run, Chatterbox.”
They ran, snow churning underfoot and in the sky above them. Jono watched as Gerard unzipped the duffel bag he carried with one hand, holding it open and to the side for Keith to get at. They never broke stride, working with a seamlessness that was impressive. Keith pulled out both of the weapons, waited for Gerard to drop the duffel bag, then tossed him the second rifle. Their extra ammunition was already clipped to their belts.
They handled the weapons with an ease that reminded Jono of Patrick’s skill with a gun when the need arose. At the moment, Patrick had opted to go with his magic over his own weapons. Three pale blue mageglobes flickered with raw magic where they hovered at shoulder height, keeping pace as he ran.
Jono couldn’t feel the burn in his soul that meant Patrick had tapped a ley line through the soulbond. Since August, Jono had worked with Patrick to overcome his guilt about being able to access his full magical reach again through Jono’s soul. Whether it was Fenrir’s presence or something else the gods had carved into his soul during June, Jono was now a breakwater of sorts for Patrick.
The scars in Patrick’s own soul made it impossible for him to channel external magic, but being bound to Jono gave him back that ability. The process was painful to a certain extent for Jono, but pain was something he’d long been able to work through and ignore.
Jono caught Patrick’s eye as they ran, giving him a nod that Patrick returned. If it came down to it, Patrick would use the soulbond to hopefully even the odds.
They passed snow-covered benches that lined the path, the bare trees on the gentle sloping hill off to the side swaying in the sudden headwind they were running against. Patrick and Keith seemed the most affected by it due to their lack of preternatural strength. Gerard kept pace with Keith, and Jono kept pace with Patrick. Sage and Wade ran between them, with Wade occasionally looking over his shoulder at what chased them.
“Eyes forward,” Patrick yelled. “Let me worry about your six.”
Wade followed the order with a scared look in his eyes, head snapping back around. He stumbled, but Sage was there to keep him upright. Jono could hear Wade’s heart beating faster than everyone else’s, and hoped it wasn’t a precursor to him shifting mass into his dragon form. Even as he watched, a hint of red scales crept up the back of Wade’s neck, and Jono swore.
Patrick put on a burst of speed to reach Wade. “Keep it together, Wade. We’re right here with you.”
Jono chanced a look over his shoulder, unsurprised to see a writhing mass of undead spirits breaking free from the clouds above. “We got company.”
“Bridge is up ahead,” Gerard shouted.
Patrick flicked his fingers at a mageglobe, the sphere of magic expanding at his touch to cover them all in a maneuverable shield. The world became faintly blue tinged, but the color change didn’t matter when it was the shield that kept them from being skewered by the spears that clattered overhead and fell to the ground outside the shield’s radius as they ran.
“Are you gonna shoot them?” Wade yelled.
“Not until we get behind some cover,” Keith replied.
The path straightened out a little, Bow Bridge coming into view. The picturesque cast-iron bridge was covered in snow, the planters on the railings piled high with mounds of it. The water on the Lake churned from the wind as they hit the start of the bridge. The sound of their footsteps changed now that they were running above water.
The screaming of the Sluagh got closer.
“My shields won’t be enough if they do a sustained attack,” Patrick said, his breath puffing out in small clouds as he ran.
“Get past the bridge and head east. We’ll buy you some time,” Gerard said.
“Spelled bullets won’t do much good against the dead, and we can’t cross the veil without you.”
Gerard made a gesture with his free hand that Jono didn’t understand, but which made Patrick nod. When Patrick started to slow his stride, Jono cut his pace, refusing to leave him. When they made it to the center of Bow Bridge, Patrick skidded to a stop and spun on his feet, raising his arms to the sky.
“Need me?” Jono asked tightly as he also slid to a halt in the snow while everyone else kept running.
“Not yet.”
The shield disappeared, the world returning to wintery gray. Above them, the Sluagh was a dark, roiling horde against the clouds—spirits and fae beasts who held allegiance to the Unseelie Court. Their twisted forms were nightmarish to look upon, but Jono kept looking, because that’s where the threat was.
The mageglobe spinning between Patrick’s hands shot up like a rocket, streaking through the sky. The Sluagh split apart to avoid a direct hit, the spirits and creatures writhing in the sky—and then getting blown apart in a messy explosion of magic that turned the snow black with blood.
The Sluagh screamed at a decibel that made Jono’s ears ring. He dialed down his hearing to near-human levels, but that was only marginally better.
“That’s one way to make a mess and piss them off,” Jono said, grabbing Patrick by the arm.
“Won’t hold them off for long.”
Patrick stumbled at the speed Jono ran at, but Jono kept him upright and didn’t let him go until they were off the bridge. Gerard and Keith had their weapons pointed at the sky, covering their retreat, but the pair swiftly turned around once Jono and Patrick made it back onto solid land.
“Head for the trees!” Gerard yelled.
