Am I having a stroke?
The words—which I now realize have been shouted from somewhere behind me—don’t sound like any language I’ve ever heard.
I whip around to see who crashed my party, putting my head just out of range of the arrow that whizzes by my opposite ear.
Inches.
It missed me by inches.
The arrow flies past and lodges in the cottage’s wooden front door.
I let out a strangled, desperate cry as I duck low and run, heading around to the other side of the cottage. Heart pounding in my throat, everything in me screaming to flee, the hard thwack of more arrows chases right behind me.
I reach to my belt, pulling off a few spell jars and tossing them in the assailant’s general direction. But they’re not as long-range as I need them to be, and I’m not exactly a crack-shot with visceral terror running through my veins, so all I manage to do is distract the shooter and pause his volley of arrows.
But hey, I’ll take it.
A pause is better than nothing.
Sprinting for the cover of the woods on the back side of the cottage, I zig, and zag, and let out a few more pathetic, terrified yelps as the arrows start up again. But I’m not pierced, whether by luck or skill or whatever, and as I cross out of the clearing and back into the trees, I’ve at least got some cover to work with again.
It gives me enough time to find a powerful shield spell on my belt—one that cost me a pretty damn penny—but now’s not the time to worry about that. I cast it, and the panic in my chest loosens a fraction as I get my feet back under me and survey the situation.
The creature who’s been firing on me is a monster.
He stands on two legs and has two arms, a torso, and a head, but that’s where the similarities to humans or any of the fae I’ve seen up to this point ends.
Maybe he’s not a fae. Maybe he’s something else. Some nightmare from some realm I haven’t visited yet and hopefully will never have the misfortune to.
His long, sinewy body is entirely covered in moss-green scales. So are his arms, his legs, his lizard-like face. His large, bulbous eyes gleam sickly yellow in the low light of the forest, with slitted reptilian pupils focused squarely on me. Lips pulled back in a snarl, his razor-sharp teeth look like they could slice through skin and muscle and bone.
And he’s not alone.
Another lizard-man, this one deep crimson, steps into the clearing. Lucky for me, he doesn’t have any arrows, but he is carrying a wicked, sickle-curved blade I am one hundred percent positive he wouldn’t hesitate to use on me, either.
They both have the look of hunters about them.
Sharp, focused, well-outfitted with packs of supplies. I’d bet my left boot they’re both in the queen’s competition.
The second lizard tosses something small and round to his companion, then shouts in that sinuous, rolling language. The two of them move further apart, taking separate arcing paths so they can close in on me from two different angles.
What I wouldn’t give to have a demon’s portal abilities right now.
Or, maybe just as good, a demon partner to portal my ass out of here.
I hold my shield firmly in place, walking backwards through the trees so I can keep my eyes on them. The first lizard takes the sphere his companion threw him and draws an arrow from his dwindling quiver. He pushes its tip into the sphere, rotates it a few times like he’s chalking a pool cue, then tucks it in his pocket.
I’m still puzzling over that when I realize I’ve lost sight of the second lizard.
Well… fuck.
Hand scrambling over my belt, I dig out the big guns. A vial pulsing with leashed power. One last trick up my sleeve to take care of these assholes.
But I’m not fast enough.
The chalked arrow flies, hits my shield, and shatters it.
And not only that, but whatever kind of magick nullifying substance the lizard coated it with rebounds on me, spreading over my skin like novacaine. It makes my whole body feel numb, cut off from my magick, and I stumble at the foreign feel of it.
