creatures alone. The chapel dimmed again, except for the faint moonlight behind Faelan. He raised one hand to the heavens, clasping his talisman with the other, and in a steady voice, a torrent of strange words flowed from his mouth like the thunder of a waterfall. The air thickened and hummed. A stream of light flashed from his chest.
Bree shielded her eyes against the brilliant light, and she clearly saw the hideous thing that had grabbed her. No wonder those campers had fled. Its skin was thick and gray, the head rounded, with coarse black hair, hideous yellow slit eyes, and pointed teeth bared in a scream. It disappeared in the flash of light, taking the remaining creatures with it.
Faelan stood with one hand still raised, the other holding the talisman. His face glowed, as if carved out of a brilliant stone. Time stood still. She’d never forget it, for as long as she lived. Where the creatures had stood seconds before, there was nothing but fallen weapons. Not even dust remained, like in the vampire stories. The light retracted, leaving the chapel dark again.
Faelan
He turned, and even through the darkness she felt his eyes searching out hers. Her champion. Her legs went numb, thinking how close they’d come to dying, how close she’d come to killing him with his own dagger. A few inches nearer…
Faelan sprinted to her. “Are you okay?” he asked, pulling her tight to his chest. The beat of his heart was strong against her cheek, the talisman warm. “Bree, talk to me.”
“I thought they were going to kill you. Where did they go? What was that light? I’ve never seen anything so brilliant.”
“You saw the light?” His voice was raw, hands trembling as he cradled her face.
“It was incredible. Why did you tell me not to look?” A rush of energy shook her to the core. She’d killed that evil thing. She, Bree Kirkland, had made it disappear. How? She didn’t know, but she wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t a freak. She’d always known there was more to life, something bigger, something more. Now she had proof.
“You looked at an open talisman?” The words sounded like a death sentence on his lips.
“It was incredible. Amazing. Astonishing. Hey, what’s that man doing out there?”
Faelan whirled and faced the open door. A short, skinny man scurried out from behind a tree, slipped a cell phone into his pocket, and ran across the yard. It was the man who’d told the creatures to leave her alone.
A rumble rolled up from Faelan’s throat. “Stay here. Don’t move.” He took off across the yard like a hunter stalking his prey.
Bree scooped up the broom she’d dropped and ran to the door. “Hurry, he’s getting away!”
The intruder looked back at Bree’s cry and saw Faelan advancing on him, dagger drawn. “Greg,” Faelan said through clenched teeth. “Or should I call you Grog? Seems like yesterday I saw you.”
The man threw his head back, hunched his shoulders, and groaned. His body contorted, skin rippling, growing thick, as his face stretched, sprouting long teeth and bulging eyes, like in a werewolf movie, but it wasn’t a werewolf. It was another of those things from the chapel.
Faelan cursed.
Bree gaped as the thing he’d called Grog drew a knife. She didn’t know where it came from. He didn’t have any pockets… or clothes.
Grog took advantage of Faelan’s surprise and slashed at his throat. Faelan dodged the knife, kicking Grog in the thigh. Grog staggered, regained his balance, and came at Faelan again, swiping at his face with a clawed hand. The two hit the ground rolling, a grunting tangle of arms and legs and claws and blades. Someone cried out, and Bree flew into the fight, swinging her broom. She went for Grog, but missed and hit Faelan when he spun Grog around.
“Get back,” Faelan said, swatting at the broom.
She yelled out a
Faelan gave Bree a glare that would’ve quelled an avalanche and leaped to his feet. Bree moved out of his way, but Grog was too far ahead, and barefoot, Faelan was at a disadvantage. He stopped, drew back his arm, and the dagger winged through the air, faster than when she’d thrown it. Grog stumbled and cried out but kept running.
An engine revved, and a black SUV hurtled up the driveway in reverse. The back door opened, and Grog yanked Faelan’s dagger from his shoulder, dropping it as he jumped in. Faelan caught up and latched onto Grog’s arm, pulling him partially out of the vehicle. Grog swung his knife at Faelan’s throat as a black mist materialized overhead. Faelan was thrown back, and the knife caught his arm instead.
Bree sprinted to reach him as the SUV sped away. The mysterious cloud had disappeared, and a stain was darkening Faelan’s shirt. “You’re bleeding,” she panted, reaching for his arm.
He turned on her, his face distorted with fury. “What the bloody hell were you doing?” he bellowed, veins bulging in his neck. “Don’t ever interfere when I’m in battle.”
She stepped back, shocked, before anger overrode her fear. Rising to her full height, almost a foot shorter than him, she glared back. “Interfere? I saved your butt in there, and you’re still playing male chauvinist? I don’t know what women were like in your day, but this is my house, my property.” She jabbed her finger into his chest. “I don’t take orders from you. I’m going back to get those swords before any more of those things come to kill us.”
Faelan opened his mouth, but Bree stalked off. Let him bleed to death. He caught up to her a few steps away. His hand touched her shoulder, and she cried out.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice softer. The dark stain spreading across the torn cotton of his brown T- shirt, dripping down his arm, drained her anger like air escaping a punctured tire. She’d almost lost him tonight. If he hadn’t fallen back, his throat would’ve been slit instead of his arm.
