Reaching into Ambrose, I claimed both my swords. They were all but useless, we were sitting ducks waiting to get roasted, but I felt better with them in my hands.
“Do you see that?” Midas pointed to a dark splotch on the ground. “It’s not burning.”
“Let’s investigate.” I checked the position of the bird, grateful its massive wingspan made targeting the small clearing difficult, then jogged over to investigate. “Weird.”
The gap was narrow enough I could turn sideways and scuttle to the warg side, if I didn’t mind the risk of catching my hair or clothes on fire. The dark splotch? It was a roach wing. One must have shed it in the excitement to plummet to its doom.
Careful of the heat, I tested the ridged material, found it cool to the touch, and glanced up at Midas.
“You’re not serious.” He picked up on the drift of my thoughts. “That’s a half-inch thick at most.”
“Got any better ideas?” I flipped the wing over onto the next section, and it hissed and smoked as it smothered the flames. “Wow.” I dusted my hands. “I’m pretty shocked that worked, actually.”
Pretending this had been my plan all along, that I hadn’t briefly entertained using it as a shield, I grinned.
“How can we get more?” He glanced over at the pit. “We can’t let the roaches out without Smythe, and he hasn’t so much as twitched. We don’t know if his control is fine enough to hold them steady while we pluck them either.” He frowned. “There’s the risk of infection to consider too.”
This would all be for nothing if even one volunteer got tapped as a host. It would start the cycle over again.
“I’m going to distract the bird,” I decided. “You make an exit and get everyone out.”
“Hadley…” he began and then closed his mouth. “Be careful.”
“I will.” I rose onto my tiptoes and brushed my lips across his cheek. “You too.”
While he got to work, I did the most idiotic thing I could think of, short of throwing myself into the fire and saving the bird the trouble. I charged the outer ring like that was exactly what I intended to do, ideas churning in my mind. Before I could decide on one, the bird squawked and dove for me.
Pivoting on my heel, I ran for the opposite end on pure instinct, steeling my nerves just as the bird decided I was too close to the fire and used a massive talon to knock me on my butt.
The bird was…protecting me?
The coven must be desperate for my skin if they were curbing their murderous tendencies in favor of allowing smoke inhalation to do the heavy lifting for them. Then again, they couldn’t work their mojo on a charcoal briquet if I cremated myself, and I was definitely the kind to go out with a bang.
Earning a new sympathy for balls in pinball machines everywhere, I crisscrossed our half of the flaming circle, running flat-out. I kept the bird busy until a stitch developed in my side and I had trouble breathing.
The angle of my next sprint showed me Bishop and Smythe were clear, and the wargs were exiting through the gap Midas made for them. As much as it worried me to release them in such numbers, we didn’t know that they weren’t here to help. We couldn’t let them die just to be on the safe side.
“Hadley,” Midas yelled on his way back to me. “We’re clear.”
“Go on,” I panted. “I’m right behind you.”
The war of emotions battling across his face told me he knew I was a liar, but he let the whopper slide.
Bishop, however, fought him tooth and nail. He had known me longer, and he could smell a bad idea on me from a mile away.
“You know what to do,” I called to him then slid my gaze to Midas to shore up my courage.
One last burst of speed got me to the edge of the circle sealing off the pit, and I erased the line with my foot. The magic fell, but the roaches cared more about the waning music than their sudden freedom. I didn’t let myself hope that would remain the case. I didn’t let myself think at all.
Arms pinwheeling, I leapt into the pit with them, Ambrose clawing at the air as we fell.
A percussive boom shook the world, and brilliant white light filled my vision.
Darkness, thick and copper-tasting, rushed in before I hit the bottom.
Twenty-Six
Midas stared at the smoking pit where Hadley vanished and swore his ribs cracked under the strain from his frantic heart. Tongues of fire licked the sky, and rancid debris rained down around them. Dirt and ash and bug. But there was no sign of her.
She had leapt into the void, curls streaming behind her, and she was gone.
Gone, gone, gone.
The bitter word chased itself around his head, constricting his thoughts to a single panicked channel.
Whirling on Bishop, who held his thumb pressed down on a small detonator, he snarled, “What have you done?”
“What she told me to do.” His voice came out flat and tired as he pointed. “Make her sacrifice count.”
The leathery bird landed near the pit as Midas watched, hopping here and there for a better vantage.
A wellspring of hatred so old he had forgotten its savor rushed through his veins. Not since his time in Faerie had he raged until his body vibrated with so much caustic magic it rose in a blistering wave that threatened to burn him alive. Embracing the beast’s strength and righteous anger, he lunged through the gap left on the scorched earth.
The call to the hunt he meant to issue strangled in his throat as he leapt for the bird and sank his teeth in its hide. He slung his head with vicious precision, ripping out chunks of meat. The man didn’t shy from the violence, and the beast relished the kinship with his other
