“What?” Angel whispered, not glancing my way.
“Huh?”
“You’re fidgeting. And it’s not boredom.”
“Nothing,” I said, unable to articulate a reason. But I sat with my hands clenched on the sides of the chair, feeling as if we stood before a thunderstorm, magic coiling with a weight of anticipation. Another flickering light in the distance on the screen made my pulse pick up a beat.
Another flicker, closer this time.
Then another.
My gut flipped over with worry as that chill of energy uncoiled within me. Like it knew what was coming and welcomed it. Something dead.
“Uh...” I tried to form a coherent thought to alert Angel, but then a whole nightmare flock appeared. Black blobs of fluffy dark clouds drifted around us as if it were fog, though I knew it wasn’t.
The alarm blared to life, red lights strobing across the cabin. Ezra jolted upright from the bench, hand already on his weapon. Remi threw himself out of the chair as if dodging a bullet, and both Wade and Tiana burst from the bunks, wary and barely awake as Angel and I stared through the windshield at the endless wave of floating puffs. Bobby slipped up behind my chair, gaze focused beyond into the darkness, as he reached over and silenced the alarm.
“What the hell?” Ezra growled.
Dark spots glided through the darkness in a slow, deliberate march surrounding both vehicles as if they’d appeared there. As the feed sharpened, shapes emerged, hundreds, maybe thousands of them. Skeletal, warped things in the vague form of sheep, with opaque hides stretched over jutting bones and empty hollows where eyes should’ve been. Mist curled around their limbs like smoke rising from the earth.
They moved silently. Graceful. Hypnotic. Drawn toward the tear.
“Ghost herd,” Victor’s voice came over the radio. “We’ll need to keep them away from the tear.”
“And not follow them,” I said, recalling the book, which had once again vanished.
Everyone glanced my way.
“They hypnotize people and lead you to the River of the Dead.”
“We’ve been doing this for years and never encountered them. How do you know what they are?” Ezra demanded.
“Lots of studying,” I said, leaving the secret books and fae dragon unspoken between Angel and me.
“We’ll need to herd them away from the tear,” Angel said, jumping from his seat and heading to the back to grab the rest of his gear.
“Right, like that was in our job description packet,” Remi grumbled.
I snapped up my sidearm and my helmet, heading for the door. “Don’t look them in the eye, and don’t follow them.” The second I stepped out with Angel hot on my tail, my magic zinged with energy, and the herd swayed silently, creepy. Like they’d been waiting for me.
Victor and Kerry were the first out of their vehicle, with Clark, Waites, Gomez, and Tank, geared up and ready.
“The fuck?” Kerry asked.
Even the NHVs had never encountered a nightmare like this before.
“Rookie says ghost herd leads people to the River of the Dead,” Ezra said. “That right?”
“Yes, but they are rarely unguided,” Victor sounded annoyed.
What did that mean?
“Noise will startle them away from the tear,” he added. “But move fast before the Shepherd shows up.”
Wouldn’t it have been better to wait for a shepherd? Why hadn’t that been in the book? If we got through this in one piece, I was going to demand Nox give me back the book to add notes in the margin.
“The Shepherd often sweeps along more than just the herd,” Victor added as we spread out in pairs, making noise to keep the beasts from wandering off, though they stuck together like giant dust bunnies, soundless, soulless, and eerie.
