“That’s yer evidence?” Nemuik snorted. “They were dressed in all black,” he repeated in a shrill tone he must have thought sounded girly. An attempt to mock me. It made my blood boil. “What good do we ’ave attackin’ a bunch of mangy mutts?”
“Watch it,” I snapped. “Those mangy mutts are my friends.”
“Pets, friends, whatever they are,” he harumphed, “I stand by what I said. It wasn’t us.”
I kept my chin high and my face forward, careful to keep the nerves twisting my stomach from reaching my face. “Don’t you dare make me feel like I’m crazy.”
They were there. I saw them—ran from them. The Stalkers were obviously trying to disorient me, and I hated to admit… it was working. My shoulders caved in.
With another yank, Nemuik steered us down a dirt strip that could hardly be called a trail.
Panic and Source roared to life in my veins. I staggered at the rush of blood, the sudden awareness of just how hard my heart pounded, just how much I wished I could escape.
“Yer better off not runnin’,” Nemuik advised, as if I was stupid enough to try. “Or askin’ questions or makin’ silly assumptions. Ye say ye got business to do? Get to it and go.”
Like Ryder and Leif would let you release me, anyways. The thought was so loud, I could have sworn it left my lips in a frantic breath.
Tingles surged down my arm, collecting beneath the dwarves’ firm grips. My magic was desperate for a way out, every dig of their fingers only feeding its power like oxygen to a flame. But there was no escaping for either of us here. There was nothing but darkness and rock.
Through a break in the trees, something stubborn and firm ground against the packed earth. I couldn’t see it; I could hardly hear it over the drum of my racing heart. But I felt it, a dragging in my teeth, my bones. A body? A rope?
Light flickered ahead. Fire burned back the night. Under the orange glow of torchlight, I could make out the pale slabs of rock, dead leaves, and a rusty old door the first dwarf—Grum—had just finished opening.
Nothing but darkness waited inside. I scanned a dilapidated sign that’d been staked into the ground next to it: Moonrock Mine.
“In we go, little Nephilim.” Grum took the torch out of its bracket, the flames dancing in his golden eyes. “Don’t be shy. Te Wizard is waitin’.”
Chapter 5
With three armed dwarves at my back, there was nothing to do but step inside.
That grating sound, something heavy raking through the dirt, came and went again. The door, I now knew. We were locked in.
Grum elbowed his way to the front of our group, the light from his torch bouncing off the narrow mining shaft. I’d tasted the musty, damp air just standing at the threshold—in here, it was suffocating.
Clearly, this wasn’t the front door. The dust and lack of footprints, along with the debris crunching beneath our feet, gave off the vibe it hadn’t been used—let alone swept—in years.
I kicked the dirt to clear my path, nudging aside a few random sticks. Dozens upon dozens littered the floor, so bleached it must have been ages since they’d seen the light of day. Under my heels, they cracked and split with the lightest touch, crunching…
My stomach dropped. Those were not twigs.
Those were… bones. Femurs. Spines. Skulls.
Oh my God. I was going to be sick.
“A message if yer lookin’ to loot our realm.” The whisper shattered the silence like it was a pane of glass.
Irritation slipped past my clenched teeth. “Was that meant to be reassuring, Nemuik?”
“’Twas meant to be a warnin’.”
“I’ve been sufficiently warned, thanks.” I didn’t care that it echoed through the tunnel, that the snap of it made the pointy tops of his ears twitch.
Who in their right mind would loot this place?
A draft blew through the corridor, batting at the torch’s flame. Its fiery tendrils flickered, softened. I clutched tight onto my captors, fear lancing through me.
Declan raised a wiry brow at the touch. I didn’t let go. If that light went out, no way was I letting myself end up on the floor with those bones.
