With El Diablo’s demon war raging in the magical realm, how was this any safer for them?
Oliver’s eyes turned to me, searching my expression. My eyebrows were pulled together in doubt and concern. I knew he could see it.
The woman stepped through the red door, gasping as it swallowed her and rippled again. Several other refugees followed, their eyes wide.
“Are you sure this is safe for them?” I whispered to Oliver as the civilians entered the magical realm. “What about the demons?”
“Most demons can’t see or smell mortals,” Oliver muttered.
“What about vampires? They can smell blood, right?”
“I said ‘most demons,’” Oliver said with a half smile. “Our light magic leaves a kind of essence that they hunt, just like we hunt those with dark magic. But the mortals pose no threat. Once they reach Alba, she’ll cloak them with a powerful protection spell. Mortals and demons were meant to be separated. There’s strong magic there that we could only dream of.”
The last woman and child disappeared through the door, and Oliver and I followed. It felt like I’d put earplugs in. The screams died, and the gunfire was muffled against my ears. The smell of magic was pungent to my nose.
The civilians glanced around with terrified awe. A few children pointed and muttered excitedly to their mothers.
A small smile flickered on my face. Even if we could only provide an amazing distraction for the children, this was worth it.
“Draw your athame,” Oliver said quietly. “Be on your guard.”
My smile vanished, and I drew my weapon.
“I’ll lead,” Oliver said. “You trail at the end and make sure no one gets left behind.”
I nodded, and Oliver darted to the front of the line while I fell to the back with the woman and her son whom I’d spoken to earlier. The woman’s eyes widened at my weapon, and she clutched nervously at her son’s hand.
“This way,” Oliver called from the front. “Move quickly.”
My arms and legs tense with apprehension, I stepped quietly and followed the others. My ears prickled with every sound, every footstep and shuffle, trying to detect anything nefarious that might attack. Loud heartbeats drummed in my ears. My fingers gripped the athame so tightly that my hand shook.
Several minutes passed as we hurried between buildings and narrow streets. Oliver was obviously avoiding the main roads, and I didn’t blame him—that was where the Wendigo had found us.
The blue door of the restaurant loomed into view, and I released the breath I’d been holding. Oliver held open the door, and silence greeted my ears. I peered inside and found empty and overturned tables and chairs.
Right. The cloaking spell.
The civilians entered the restaurant with confused and frightened expressions. Beside me, Oliver muttered,
“Magic hidden from mortal eyes,
Reveal yourself from your disguise.”
Gasps and exclamations rippled through the crowd of refugees. Though the restaurant remained dark and unoccupied to me, I knew Oliver’s spell had opened the mortals’ eyes to the crowd that awaited them.
Oliver glanced at me and nodded, and we exited the restaurant, hurrying back the way we’d come.
“That was easy,” I muttered, feeling optimistic.
“The way back might not be,” Oliver warned, his eyes darkening. “The smell of mortals provides a convenient disguise for us. But without them, we’ll stick out and attract demons.”
“Like the Wendigo,” I said with a groan.
“Stay close to me, and you’ll be fine.”
I eyed him suspiciously. He wouldn’t meet my gaze, but the corners of his lips twitched. He was testing me. Obviously, he hadn’t forgotten our encounter from earlier. As much as I wanted to scrub it from both our memories.
We broke into a brisk jog, both of us clearly eager to return through the red door as fast as possible before danger could find us. As we darted down a narrow street between two small, dilapidated apartments, Oliver suddenly pulled my elbow until both our backs were pressed against the side of a building. We stood side-by-side, our shoulders touching, and we waited, breathing heavily.
Slow, soft footsteps shuffled just beyond the street, around the corner from where we hid.
Oliver raised a hand, but I wasn’t about to move after hearing that. He must think I’m an idiot.
The footsteps stopped, and something uttered a low, feral growl.
My palms started to sweat. Frantic breaths tore through my chest. It’ll hear my breathing. I’ll give us away. I clamped my mouth shut and held my breath, despite my lungs screaming in protest.
The footsteps continued. Heavy breathing echoed. The creature sniffed loudly.
A werewolf maybe? I wondered.
The creature’s movements continued down the street, diminishing until I couldn’t hear it anymore.
Despite the silence, Oliver didn’t move his hand. His eyes narrowed as he waited. After a few minutes, he nodded and dropped his hand.
I released my breath and gasped for air, my heart hammering so fast it felt like one steady, unbroken thrum.
“Come on,” Oliver whispered, waving his hand to beckon me forward.
We crept around the corner, our footsteps light and careful as we inched down the street.
Another low growl brought us to a halt. Panic choked me, freezing my limbs in place. My eyes grew so wide I felt like they would pop out of my face. I glanced at Oliver, and his eyes closed briefly.
“Damn,” he muttered.
Slowly, we both turned and found not one but three werewolves advancing toward us, teeth bared and eyes hungry.
Chapter 19
“LILITH HELP US,” I whispered faintly.
“It’s a pack,” Oliver said through clenched teeth. “They’ve been hunting us.”
“What do we do?” I asked, my voice practically a squeak.
“Either fight or run.”
“A pack means there’s more coming, right?”
“Most likely.”
“Then run!”
Miraculously, the feeling returned to my legs as I whipped around and bolted down the alley we’d come through. The blade from the athame glinted in the sunlight and seemed to laugh at me. Coward, it said. Coward, coward, coward.
Oliver’s heavy breaths indicated he was right behind me, but the thudding of werewolf paws meant they weren’t too far, either.
My
