The standing stoneserupt.
Light detonates outward—not the pale blue of my spirit magic channeling through my family stones, but a dark, sickly crimson. The runes carved into the stones twist, corrupting the wards of my ancestors.
It’s akin to what Sebastian does when he opens a portal, but this is darker, the magic foul.
The air inside the circle turns fetid as shadows pour from the spaces between worlds, spilling out of the stones like oil.
Well, shit.“Incoming!”
Demons. Dozens of them. They are monstrous twisted things with too many limbs and mouths that open wrong, all with their mindless focus locked on us.
"Defensive positions!" Wylder roars.
Tharuzel’s hellborn minions burst into the clearing, craning their necks at odd angles, emitting clicking noises that fill the air.
“What’s with all the backup, hellspawn?” Asher asks. “Are you compensating? Afraid of a fair fight?”
Wylder scoffs. “Would you mind not antagonizing the demon death squad?”
A guttural roar brings Orion, Declan, and Eliza into the fight in their white tiger forms. The three are snarling and launching themselves at a cluster of demons.
Claws tear through flesh. Fangs crush bone.
Orion says the Carmichael gift stands out, even among the coolest of the shifter clans. Seeing them like this, there’s no argument.
“You’re so freaking hot, boyfriend.” Asher grins, leveling his compound bow at his closest target. “I, for one, like our odds.”
Wylder pegs him with an arched brow, but whatever response he’s about to make is lost as the fight breaks out.
The world is suddenly chaotic in every way, in every direction. I call a personal shield, thankful to see Sebastian, Mica, and Izzy have as well.
Rowan seems to be in her element. She’s got her hands up and shadow magic is snapping outward like a whip. It catches the creature coming at her mid-leap, slamming it into a stone. The impact cracks its skull, black ichor spraying across moss. “One for me. Are we keeping score?”
Asher has his compound bow up and is letting off bolts like a modern-day Robin Hood. “Damned skippy, Ro. How else will we know who gets the hero cookie after?”
“Six for me!” Mica calls out. She’s got her hands up and is commanding five blades through the air. With her metal affinity, she doesn’t even need to throw them, she can maneuver them with her powers.
“Six? I call bullshit. How’d you get—” Asher turns just in time to see the blades spear straight through a demon’s skull and thenthe neck of the one standing behind him. “Oh, that’s how. Cool trick.”
I step into the path of what looks like a man, but stands nearly eight feet tall. It’s hunched, its spine ridged with jagged bone spurs that jut through leathery black skin. Its chest is too broad, arms too long, the claws at the end of them curved like butcher’s hooks.
But the worst part is its mouth.
It splits open from chin to ear in a grotesque hinge, revealing layers of serrated teeth stacked like a shark’s.
“Wow, you really got cracked with the ugly stick, didn’t you?” I raise my hands to engage, my heart racing.
It sucks in a wheezy breath and stops in its tracks. Then, it shudders and practically runs away from me.
My mind fritzes on that, and I’m about to find another opponent when the fight expands beyond the rise of the standing stones.
It’s impossible to keep track of everyone.
Wylder's earth magic surges down by the trees.
The ground buckles, roots bursting upward to snare demons mid-charge. Vines wrap around legs, arms, necks—squeezing until thingssnap.
I throw spirit fire at a lizard thing as it slithers over the rise of the stones and heads for the trees. It bursts into a whoosh of blue flame and turns on me.
