My pulse skipped, and I almost pressed him for details, but what was the point? I lacked the tools and training necessary to deal with the creatures he had confirmed. Nothing good could come from learning about something more terrifying.
“Fine. How do you expect me to fight gargoyles? I’ve got my daggers, a pistol, and a mini crossbow, none of which pierce stone.”
“You don’t know shit about the world, kid.” Rust huffed and shook his head. “You can’t fight gargoyles. If they know you’re there, you’re likely already dead. But don’t worry. You’re sneaky enough not to get caught.” He gave me a wink that only twistedmy insides into a bigger knot. “Come on now. Time’s a-wastin’, and you got an artifact to lift.”
Worst. Pep talk. Ever.
Before I could tell him as much, he slapped a pair of long-handled pruning shears into my palm and shoved me toward the hedge. I stood about five and a half feet tall, but the thing towered over me. It rippled as I approached, and was that a growl?
I swallowed. “You want me to just… cut it? You sure we shouldn’t start with an exorcism?”
Rust snorted. “The shears are enchanted. The witch promised they’d work. Just try not to let your skin touch anything green.”
“Really comforting, Rust.”
“Not your nursemaid.” With that established, he folded his legs and sat on the damp ground, opening his laptop.
Casting a final lingering look at the relative peace of the forest behind me, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work, narrowly avoiding the jagged thorns and toxic leaves as I pruned. Branches twisted and shuddered before succumbing to the snip of the shears, dropping to the ground and shriveling into dust as the remaining limbs bled sap that smelled poisonous. My confidence in my aunt’s magic bolstered slightly, and I pressed on, careful not to touch the nearly invisible barrier as I cleared the malicious greenery away from it. Once I’d hacked myself a doorway big enough to squeeze through, I flung the shears away, to land blade first, into the ground inches from Rust’s foot.
He flipped me off.
I smirked, the smile sliding from my features as I turned back to the arch I’d created.
Witch blood, wolf shifter reflexes and healing, and fifteen years of training had gotten me to this point. Time to do my duty.
Amulet in hand, I muttered, “Please let this work,” and with one last shaky breath, I slid through the opening before my overactive imagination and common sense could stop me.
Magic hit me like a kick to the solar plexus, knocking the breath from my lungs. Something inside me stirred. My wolf? The beast been inactive for years, but now she was panicking. Shefought against her bindings as burned ozone singed my nostrils and searing, hot pain lanced my flesh. Pressure built inside me until I thought I would explode. My vision blurred and darkened, and the sounds of the forest melted away until my pounding heart was all I could hear.
The scent of copper flooded my sinuses as I fought to lift the amulet closer to my lips. Swallowing past the pressure squeezing my throat closed, I battled for each word, whispering, “By order of Ieshim, allow me to enter.”
The amulet glowed, and the pressure vanished, restoring my senses and leaving me gasping for breath. I stumbled out of the hedge, staggering to a halt and taking a beat to reassure myself I was still alive and not a pile of ash on the forest floor. Bile tickled the back of my throat, but I swallowed it back and glanced around. The moon had slipped behind a cloud, creating sinister shapes in the unfamiliar darkness.
The oozing wall of deadly shrubbery was behind me. I’d successfully leaped the first hurdle.
Rust appeared on the other side of the opening, laptop in hand, and even in the dark I could see his anxiety. “Ziara?”
“I’m good.” I held up a finger, panting.
He hesitated and then nodded, squaring his shoulders. “Don’t forget to watch the skies.”
“Why?” A horrifying revelation struck me. “Wait. Can gargoylesfly?”
“Course they can.”
Flying stone-skinned sentries.
No sweat.
And an unknown icy predator that I was really trying not to think about.
Piece of cake.
My facemust have done something concerning because Rust stepped forward, free arm extended like he planned to reach through the magical shield and yank me back.
I waved off his concern, though I wasn’t okay. Not by any definition of the word. No need to frighten the old wolf, though. My knee-buckling terror didn’t change what I had to do, so I might as well grit my teeth and get this insanity over with.
Rust balled up his outstretched hand and brought it back to his face, thumping his earpiece. “Say something.”
