“Yes, theyou-youthat-that, out there, was me. Ignore my dragon. He’s an asshole, doesn’t like anyone or anything unless they’re food.”
His casual tone was such a stark contrast to the terrifying creature she’d just witnessed that Nia found herself wondering if she was in shock.
She rubbed her shaky palm down her jeans, the dagger still gripped in her other hand, so grateful she didn’t have to encounter his dragon. “I’m sorry. It’s been a distressing afternoon. My mind’s a mess. Lore, there’s something wrong with him.”
“What do you mean?” Race’s brow furrowed, and then he was gone.
Nia sprinted after him, down the corridor, and burst into her room. She found Race leaning over Lore.
“He’s asleep,” he murmured.
“Angels don’t sleep, Lore told me. He fell into this state down at the river.”
“He definitely is now.” Race straightened, his gaze sweeping over her. “You, however, feel different. You have a shitload of energy spikes.”
She rubbed her temples, the hammering in her skull continuing. “My powers are awakening…” She told him about Lore’s fight with the angels and what happened at the river.
Race frowned. “With these mofo demons appearing right here at the abbey, I need to reconnoiter the place. I’ll check the riverside for any anomaly.” He strode for the door. “Don’t go outside.”
“Wait. Lore said they could be Kas’ minions. He’s the demon who stalked me, but he’s dead.”
Race held the door. A terrifyingly long, black, clawed nail protruding from his ebony scaled finger tapped the wood. “When the demon who summons underlings to do his bidding dies, the hold on the horde is gone. So, it’s likely someone else. I’ll be back.”
Oh, shit.Then, who was controlling these demons?
Nia collapsed on the bedside near Lore. He lay utterly still.
Please, please get up. Something’s happening. Demons are coming after me right here at the abbey. I’m scared.
Worry bled into her while her own burgeoning powers—whatever the heck they were—rose, sweeping through her in a cascade of hurting pinpricks, and she bit back a moan.
God, if this is what she had to endure, then she didn’t want any psychic powers.
She jumped up and paced the foot of the bed, no idea who to call—hell, she was too scared to draw anyone else into whatever this was. Nia continued up and down the room, then stopped at the window and thumped her brow against the pane, staring outside…
As the afternoon waned to evening, a chill oozed into the room. She added more logs from the small pile near the hearth to the fireplace, found a lighter on the mantel, and started a blaze.
The door opened. Race strolled inside, his eerie claret eyes taking in both her and Lore in one sweep. “All seems quiet for now. Whatever happened at the river, I picked up a trace of energy. But I wasn’t sure what that was about. I guess only he…” He nodded to Lore’s comatose form. “Can answer those questions. I’ll stick around until he awakens.”
He walked out again, shutting the door behind him.
Nia sat on the bed next to Lore again.
Carefully, she smoothed back Lore’s fiery hair and picked up the end of the Band-Aid, revealing the still raw, wet gash on his brow. Fear dripped acid into her stomach.
Something bad was happening, and she had no idea what it was.
Did the angels cast a spell on him? No, she instantly dismissed the thought. If they did, they would be surrounding the abbey, surely?
Then why wasn’t Lore healing?
Chapter
Twenty-One
A low,ferocious growl had Nia jerking awake. Groggy from sleep, she took in the gloomy but warm room lit by the small flames crackling softly in the hearth. Dull daylight filtered into the room. All appeared quiet, and Lore was asleep next to her?—
Another growl erupted.
