Page 120 of Ravenous

That’s my sister.Eyrun couldn’t have been prouder. Beside her, Chiyo looked decidedly less starstruck. Her fighter code probably involved restraint and shit like that. Gratuitous maiming would be “unsporting” or something.

Ven crouched by the demon’s ear. “Did anyone in Grimrock teleport strigoi into Valhalland?”

The mammoth, blind and bawling, plucked out the horns and clutched them like treasured young. “None dare. No, says king! Morath says no!”

He ruled with a literal stone fist; Eyrun couldn’t imagine his subjects crossing him.

“Then who brought them?” Ven demanded.

“Witches? Know no! Bloodreach? Hungry kingdom. Rumbling.” These demonkin might sense things in the neighboring Bloodreach. “Feet feel. Rumbling!”

Vague leads. No real answers.

But at least they had the next target for their investigation.Leeches, here we come.

“You ready?” Eyrun called.

Ven nodded, lightning fading, violence receding from her in slow waves. She scooped up the demon’s ball sack, slung it over her shoulder like a saddle,and rejoined them.

Chiyo’s face went pale.

Eyrun sighed.Fuckity-ugh, vixen. Trophies are important.

Ven brushed past them, voice low and merciless, “Whoever actually sent the strigoi? May the gods pity them.” She glanced over her shoulder, her storm-bright eyes promising carnage. “Because the Valkyries sure as hells won’t.”

Chapter 46Ditch

Night of the Hunter’s Moon

“You rang?” Meera stepped into Ditch’s study from her new quarters below,eyes bloodshot, nose raw. Evidence of all the snotty sobbing she’d been doing of late.

Apparently Meera and Lowell played a stupid game calledWe’re not doing what we’re supposed to.

The wolf was supposed to take hernofor an answer. He’d instead shown up at her house.

Meera was supposed to melt him with a potion. She’d instead fled her home, moving into the keep. She’d packed lightly, bringing ridiculous clothes and a hissing cat.

“Ididring,” Ditch said. “I’m surprised to see you’re still on duty.”

“Still on duty. Clearly,” Meera said without so much as a stutter. Misery made her bolder. Her reddened gaze dipped to the scroll in Ditch’s hand. “Is that a missive from Akelarre?”

Ditch glanced down. “It arrived this morning. Elder witches will be coming next week to assess my progress.”

“They’re spending the magic to travel here? It must be important to them.”

“Yes, and I intend to be prepared, which is why I summoned you. I plan to study your thesis on King Thane. It’ll keep me occupied while I fuel these spells tonight.”

Projecting her magic all the way across the Witchwood and into Craigdúr would take a toll. If Straegan fought her—all but guaranteed—he would drainher even further.

Meera said dully, “The thesis is at my house. I’ll get it.” Though she trudged off with a wooden gait, she utterly spewed power.

As predicted, heartache had come home to roost. The witch wallowed in it, moping around the keep with that odious cat following her through the halls. Also as predicted, Meera’s grief had supercharged her magic.

She was so powerful she might be the Queen of Infuriations.

Rage crackled through the Witchwood, punctuated by fights and screams, the coven swept up in her emotional storm.

Some were more affected than others. Ditch, naturally, was immune.