“Let’s go. There’s nothing for us here.”
Her hand found Kieran’s, who found mine. We disappeared, hoping to find more answers further north.
There were no answers, simply because there were no witches. Astrid wandered from dune to dune, tapping and whistling, but no one answered. All was quiet, except for the crashing of the waves and the rustling of the tall grass. In the distance a large pier sat, its wooden planks stretching far out into the sea, sagging with age and neglect. Kieran followed my gaze, grasping my hand.
“The shallows drop off into a sheer cliff underwater at the edge of the pier. I remember before the war, ships would pull right up to the pier to unload cargo or people from across the sea. Visitors. Those were happier times. This used to be a small village, right Benedict?”
Benedict grunted, and stomped away. Astrid turned and waved at the pier with an elegant gesture.
“Yes. The town was called Cove’s Den, I believe. I met a rather gifted lutist here once. Oh, the things he could do with those fingers…”
Her gaze drifted for a moment to the mountains of the north that loomed before us, dark and foreboding. She sighed and turned away.
“It was a human town, so it is no surprise it no longer exists. As humans disappear, so do any signs of them.”
She continued to walk along the shoreline, tapping with an ever-present patience that was frustrating to behold. I let Kieran stay with her and went after Benedict.
He stood alone, gazing at the mountains. I put one hand on his lower back and ran it along his wing scales. His eyes closed as he relaxed against me.
“That is not a fair fight.”
I choked back a laugh and leaned into him. My heart swelled when he returned the gesture, his arm going around my waist to tuck me further into him. His wings flared outwards, shielding me from the wind.
“Why do you dislike the witches so much?” I asked. They had been nothing but kind to us so far, so I didn’t understand why Benedict could barely keep his temper around them. He glanced back at the mountains again, and I wondered what was going through his mind. Was he relieved to have left the shadow of the Overlord, or did he regret being forced to leave?
“I dislike those who left us to die alone with the humans during the Demon Wars.”
His voice was a deep growl, and I squeezed his hand.
“Astrid apologized. What will it take for you to forgive them? The air and earth witches have already done so much—”
“When their families are all dead around them, and they have been trapped, and they have had everything ripped from them--”
“You would have the whole world burn just to even the score?”
His face was already twisted in anger before my words registered. He stopped, then looked away.
“No one understands.”
I pulled away.
“Of course, I couldn’t possibly know what it’s like to be ripped away from your family, to be alone, to be scared and terrified with no way out. I can’t even imagine that singular experience is unique to you and no one else. Astrid was right—your sorrows aren’t greater than anyone else’s.”
He glared at me, a ball of frustrated energy. That’s when I understood what was truly bothering him. Yes, he was angry with the witches, but our inability to act immediately left him feeling helpless. When Benedict felt helpless, he got angry.
“You—”
He didn’t get another word out because I tackled him as hard as I could. The surprised, befuddled look on his face was one I would cherish forever as I took him to the ground, likely only due to the fact I had taken him by surprise.
“You want to fight, so let’s fight.”
That was how Benedict was, wasn’t it? He was a creature of action, a leader who needed to do, and was easily frustrated when he was unable to act. He easily caught the punch I threw at his face but was much slower to block the sweep of his feet. His eyes widened in surprise.
“You’ve been practicing.”
I pumped my wings to gain lift then dove into him, a ball of lean muscle rocketing towards his chest. He opened his arms and welcomed me, only grunting as my face rammed into the hard plane of his muscles and knocked us both down again. My teeth were in his neck a second later, dulling the throbbing of my face. He groaned and ripped me away from him to claim my lips himself. My claws drew red lines down his back as he devoured my mouth, his frustration and anger a hurricane that raged around me. I took it all in, relishing the roughness of the sand and shells that scraped against our scales. His hands roved over my body, questing lower, and lower, until—
A high-pitched call echoed over the dunes, from a distance away. He froze, then growled.
“Kieran.”
Benedict and I were in the air moments later, flapping wildly to achieve altitude. Kieran and Astrid must have kept searching alone the dunes and wandered further north down the coastline. The call repeated, veering inland as our wings automatically made the necessary adjustments. We saw Astrid and Kieran fighting viciously with five vampyres, whose torn clothes and empty veins meant they were desperate with hunger. Desperate enough to be stronger than normal, but also enough to make mistakes.
“You wanted a fight,” I taunted, but Benedict was already gone, barreling into a vampyre who had launched himself at Kieran’s unprotected back, grinning with the anticipation of battle. They both slammed into the ground, the vampyre’s spine snapping with loud crack. The vampyre didn’t move, unable to heal with no blood flowing through his undead body. After a moment his body turned to ash and disintegrated.
I snarled and flew to Astrid, who was holding her own against another pair of vampyres. Her arms whirled through the air, making intricate
