Fallon…
Surveying the room, of course my mate wasn't in the corner like I told her. She was running a knife into a monk almost twice her size. I bounded over, doing my best not to crowd her when I wanted her flat against me.
Is that your kitchen knife?
She turned as theman fell to the floor, clutching his chest.
I'm going to have to sharpen this again.
I couldn't contain my huffing laugh. The thrill of the hunt entered my veins. My blood-thirsty mate was at my side. The Old Magic howled through the sandstone halls, tearing the flames from the torches and we answered in kind, moving through the semi-darkness to rend, batter, and take life. Honey and I ran down our prey, who was trying to escape into a red-rimmed portal, and we skidded out into the main hall.
All the tubes in their lair swooped up. Hundreds of monks surrounded us, all tending to pulsing red sacs of our magic suspended from the arched ceiling. Everyone froze as the Old Magic swelled me bigger, a monk the size of my paw.
“Hey ass-hats! We’re here to ruin your day.” Fallon shouted into the room and I amplified her voice with a prayer.
Percy, who had so cheekily thwarted us, yelled, “Don’t let them touch the conji!” The monks assembled below the magic sacs in a defensive position.
I never understood why cults gave things such stupid names. Although ‘pulsating red sac’ wasn’t exactly a winner.
Before I started rending again, I caught it out of the corner of my eye. A throne, a familiar man–or what remained of one.
Like a bad spell that just kept rebounding, I squared off against my prey that would not seem to die.
“BRAD! Meet your end.”
Chapter 24
Fallon
Declan leaped halfway across the room in a single bound and I held on tight, making myself as small a target as possible. The man on the throne had caused all of us enough trouble for ten lifetimes, from trying to force our friend Ruby to marry him, to a mindless shifter army, to taking the Elven throne. This time, he somehow recruited a bunch of monks to do his bidding. What was it about this guy? The only word that ever came to mind was beige and yet he always seemed to wheedle his way in everywhere.
Declan dodged some magic fireballs lobbed in his direction, jaws slobbering, claws raking the floor. Flashes of light highlighted the colorless robe Brad slouched in. The hue encapsulated everything about the man. Gone was his blonde hair. He was missing a few horse teeth and his cheekbones could sharpen my knife. Still, he sat in thisgreat hall with the bearing of a King. The blaze in his eyes burned with the fires of unearned privilege.
I lashed out at the monk trying to lasso Declan with a wicked-looking rope. Drawing through the air as I would to filet a fish, the man’s calf split open as it came against my magic. Declan snapped and snarled, tearing off arms and legs of those in his path. I had never seen him violent and I had a feeling the Followers of Virtue were paying for the Brothers of Zophiel’s sins.
As another round of attacks came against Dec, I realized the sacs overhead pulsed any time a monk cast a spell. It was clear that’s where they were draining the monster’s magic. I reached up to see if I could poke one with my knife and quickly flattened against Dec when a red snake-whip came for me. Dec dodged and his furry butt ended up right in Brad’s face since the throne was so elevated above the rest of the hall.
“What is with you people?” Brad wheezed from his seat.
I slid down the giant wolf’s neck. “We missed you, Brad.” My sarcasm just dripped right off him.
Percy skidded to a stop between Declan and Brad, flapping his hands like a frightened chicken. His ruby ring glistened. For all they seemed to have a master plan, I didn’t see complex spells flying around other than what came from their overhead reservoirs.
I don’t think they have any magic, Dec.
His giant head surveyed the room.The portals?
Assessing Brad, I really looked at the throne he claimed. No, that they strapped him to. I rattled the bindings across his forearms with my magic and he shot me a murderous look.
“You won’t take this from me. I will be a God!”
We both snapped to the head monk, who held out his hands to Brad. “Of course you will be. We have this all in hand. Just relax into the chair… throne and all will be well.”
Brad has magic?I asked.
I’ve only seen a few mages fueled by pure belief. They seem to be sucking it right out of him though.
The throne pulsed with the same soft glow as the ceiling. Magic moved through luminous tubes, siphoning Brad’s will to the disgusting sacs just like they did in the first room we entered.
