The others armored up and grabbed their weapons, scattering at a bolt of Thalia’s lightning. She missed her first shot, left the trunk charred and smoking. I don’t need to worry about her. Time for a killer fucking game of hide and seek.
Raff rushed, skidding on the icy ground, toward the Eldritch to the left. Rebounding off the tree, he pounced on the scout and used the momentum to drag him across the ground, digging his claws into the enemy’s gut. The fallen scout slashed with a knife and Raff bit down, until he tasted more Eldritch blood and the blade slipped from the bastard’s hands. Bullets whizzed past, most slammed into the trees behind, but one grazed his flank. Crimson stained the white ground, his and the Eldritch whose arm he’d almost bitten off.
“Raff, behind you!” Thalia called.
Bolts of lightning shot from Thalia’s bracers, a beautiful blue arc that slammed into the one taking aim. The Eldritch shuddered from the volts and smoke swirled around his corpse as it fell. She laid down cover fire, giving him the space to charge, where three of them had clustered in the same tangle of icy brush. He tore the throat out of one before the female could get her knife up, and he spat out the taste of her wine-sweet blood.
Two of them were backing away, poised to run; that couldn’t happen. If a single one made it out to report that Thalia was alive, their entire plan, flimsy as it was, would fall to shit. When the first broke and tried to run, Raff hamstrung him with a vicious bite. Thalia took the other with a shot to the back, lightning cycling over the corpse in bright sparks.
The surviving scouts sprayed bullets, filling the clearing with the stink of cordite. A couple stray ones hit the mark, one in his rear flank, the other in his side.
Raff snarled and let pain-adrenaline drive him to greater fury. He snatched up the nearest Eldritch, closed his jaws on his thigh, and used him as a shield while the other two filled him with bullets. As they ran out of ammo and scrambled to reload, he flung the Eldritch shield away and dove for the one on the right and ripped his chest open, not stopping until entrails unspooled like a slick and bloody rope and steam rose from where the hot mess hit the frosty ground.
Two left—one male, one female.
The male Eldritch took aim at him, and Raff held, ignoring the pain. Because he saw Thalia, silently signaling with her eyes. Don’t move. She struck from the shadows, slamming both of her knives into the traitor’s temples. This woman is glorious. In a graceful motion, she pulled her blades free and swiped them clean on the ground. Raff offered a nod before turning toward the last one standing. She’d apparently decided there was no point in trying to flee.
“None of us will ever talk,” the woman said with a sneer. “Lord Gilbraith has eyes everywhere and—”
Thalia ended the budding monologue with a final shot from her sputtering bracer. The power light flickered and died; that must mean she was out of juice. On the ground, one of the Eldritch was still squirming, rolling and screaming as blood gushed from his mangled arm. Raff loped over and growled, an unmistakable warning.
Thalia joined him, staring at the survivor with a grim expression. “Good, you left one capable of talking. Now then, let’s ask our new friend some questions.”
“Ruark Gilbraith is the one true king. Burn in hell, pretender!”
Raff got the feeling the asshole would have spat, but he didn’t have the breath. His color suggested that he was going into shock. Between blood loss and cold, it would be surprising if he survived long enough for a lengthy interrogation. He’d already confirmed one fact without meaning to—he most likely came from House Gilbraith, as it seemed unlikely that a spy from another demesne would be so fanatically loyal to a mere ally.
“Who is the agent hidden in my hold? Tell me what you know, or things will get worse.” Her voice was so calm and gentle that Raff almost didn’t discern the threat at first.
“Like…hell,” the scout gurgled.
His jaw clenched then, but blood bubbled at the corners of his mouth, swiftly followed by white foam. He convulsed in a torturous arc, limbs twisting in one of the most spectacularly painful deaths Raff had ever witnessed. Bastard suicided to keep us from learning anything else. The froth smelled faintly familiar, one of the poisons that had killed Lileth at their wedding feast.
Thalia swore. “It seems he was afraid of my methods. I might’ve gotten a name, given time.” Then she seemed to notice his condition, crouching with worried eyes. “How bad is it? I can see that you’re hurt, but I can’t tell if it’s serious.”
I’ve been shot in the leg I broke in the tunnel, got another bullet in my side and a bleeding shoulder from the grazing shot.
If he shifted to tell her that, it would be harder to get back to the cabin. That was their best hope. They couldn’t stay here in case the other houses sent reinforcements, and he was in no shape to make the trek back to Daruvar. Time and food would probably be enough to patch him up enough to get there under his own steam. His recovery period would also reinforce the traitor’s conviction that Thalia was gone for good…and that conviction would be enough rope to hang himself.
“What should I do?” she was asking.
Thalia wrung her hands, tears standing in her eyes—well, that felt pretty good. There was no sign of her customary poise, and it didn’t seem like she had her planning cap on either. His blood on her hands as she checked his wounds had evidently disconnected some key wires
