Patrick, well, he was still prey.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t become the hunter.
Jono snarled a warning and took a step forward, wolf-bright blue eyes never leaving the soultaker. Patrick conjured up a mageglobe, filling it with raw magic. He expanded his own personal shields and looked over his shoulder at where Nadine stood, a tiny, violet mageglobe hovering near her left shoulder.
Nadine’s shields could withstand a lot, but the one thing she couldn’t win against was a soultaker. The large shield she had around their group flickered at the first tearing bite from the demon.
“I need to take down my shield before it drains me,” Nadine said, thumbing the safety off her tactical handgun.
Patrick nodded. “Do it.”
“Get ready to scatter,” Gerard ordered.
The mageglobe near her shoulder disintegrated. Her shield expanded outward, giving the Hellraisers a last bit of cover before it, too, faded away. Everyone scattered in search of cover, racing into the dark and toward who knew what threats. Patrick held his ground with Jono on the slope, pulling his magic out of the soulbond, because no way was he going to give the soultaker a chance to gorge on a ley line.
“You hungry?” Patrick asked, struggling to locate the soultaker in the dark.
Jono snorted once before racing forward, a massive, hulking beast that dwarfed the soultaker’s body. It screamed again, the sound making Patrick’s teeth hurt as he raced after Jono, not sure what cover was best on either side of the stone wall. Anything was better than out in the open at this point.
Illumination was a risk once they got boots on the ground, and the lack of it made it difficult to get one’s bearings. Patrick could hear just fine though—the roar of the wind and sea, and Jono’s pissed-off snarl. The soultaker’s scream echoed in the air before abruptly cutting off. Lightning flashed above, and Patrick could just make out the stone wall ahead and Jono’s hunched-over form not far away.
Patrick put his back to the wall and crouched down, blinking through the rain. Jono’s eyes flashed into view. Patrick uncurled his fingers from around his mageglobe to cast some light between them as Jono approached.
“Oh, gross,” Patrick said, making a face at what Jono carried in his mouth.
Jono spat out the soultaker’s head, having torn it off the demon’s body through sheer brute force. It rolled over the wet dirt, tongue flopping around, and would’ve touched Patrick’s boots if he didn’t move backward.
“What? You want me to say thanks? This is not the kind of Christmas present I wanted.”
Jono’s eyes narrowed, the brightness minimizing in the dark. Patrick couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to pat Jono on the head.
“Fine. You’re a good boy.”
Jono growled, clearly unamused, before moving past Patrick. He turned to follow where Jono was headed, staying low against the wall. In the next flash of lightning, Patrick caught a glimpse of an arched opening in the stone up ahead and the stairs that led up to it. He didn’t trust what might be found through that entrance and grabbed Jono’s tail, giving it a tug.
“Let me shield you,” Patrick said.
Jono whipped his tail out of Patrick’s grip and waited long enough for Patrick to expand his shields so the defense covered them both. They weren’t as powerful as Nadine’s, but it was better than nothing.
They hurried through the rain, Patrick holding his mageglobe close to his body to minimize the light. He trusted in Jono to guide him as they came up against the rocky stairs and supporting wall that bracketed the entrance.
A sharp whistle made Patrick pause. Seconds later, Gerard scaled the opposite wall and flung himself to the ground beside them. TheGáe Bulgburned with magic in his hands, the notched spearhead a beacon Patrick didn’t care for.
“You gonna put that fire out?” he asked.
Gerard straightened up, attention on the shadowy entrance they had yet to reach. “No, I don’t think I will.”
“You never did learn how to lay down your weapon,deartháir,” a new voice said.
Jono pressed against Patrick’s side, angling his massive body so that he was between Patrick and the threat that walked out of the low arched entrance and straightened up to his full height.
Lightning crashed down to ocean at the rocky edge of the island, the blue-white light heating the air and casting shadows on Gerard’s face. It was enough light for Patrick to make out the grim slant of his old captain’s mouth.
“Ferdiad,” Gerard said. He tossed Patrick his rifle and maneuvered theGáe Bulginto a two-handed grip. “Where’s Órlaith?”
As far as Patrick was concerned, family reunions were fuckingawful.
20
