Page 87 of Wicked Curses
Not even a lycan could pull off that move.
The ground quaked from Gromuck’s footsteps as the scarogs went crazy outside. The berserker kicked and hit as he spun in Gromuck’s hold, but the few blows he succeeded in landing did nothing to deter the orc.
Stopping before the door, Gromuck held the berserker away as Boris rushed to help her with the door.
No.The word froze in Sahira’s throat as panic built inside her.
The berserker couldn’t stay here—he and the lycans would only tear this place apart and probably kill a few of them if he did—but Gromuck couldn’t open that door either.
“Be ready to fight them off,” Boris said as he rested his hand on the thick metal bar barricading the door.
Sahira stopped breathing as she shifted her hold on the spear and prepared for battle.
CHAPTERSIXTY-TWO
Gromuck nodded to Boris,and he lifted the metal bar.
No. No. No!
The word repeated in Sahira’s head as the other immortals got to their feet. They weren’t armed.
She was sure they had some weapon or another on them, but nothing would help against the scarogs if they got in here. Her heart hammered as, beside her, Elsa edged forward a little.
Their spell wouldn’t do any good if they opened the door and let the scarogs in here. It would keep the building safe, but if they provided the opening, there was no stopping the scarogs.
Boris held the metal bar as the warlock swung the door open. When Gromuck tossed the berserker out, the beetles immediately descended, but they also swarmed toward the door.
All Sahira could see were giant black bodies, large mandibles, and beady black eyes as they surged toward Gromuck. Boris smashed one of them with the metal bar, knocking it down as a dwarf lunged forward to slam the door shut.
Before she could get the door to close, more of the beetles crashed into it. The warlock shouted as one of the scarog’s claws crashed down on his arm.
Another one crashed into Gromuck, pushing her back. When more of them swarmed over the doorway and poured inside, Sahira knew they’d lost the battle.
There was no keeping the scarogs out anymore.
The front pincers of the one who entered first clicked, much like a scorpion’s, as it skittered up the wall. One of the dwarves threw their battle-ax at it, but the throw wasn’t good and bounced off the creature’s thick, armored thoracic area.
Its antennae clicked as they circled like windmills searching for something. Its mandibles were at least a foot long outside its gaping mouth—a mouth that would consume them after those claws and mandibles tore them apart.
Exhausted with being tired, threatened, and trapped in this place, Sahira bit back a scream of rage. It echoed in her head but didn’t resonate throughout the room as she lunged forward and plunged her spear into the next beetle to shove past the warlock.
Reeling back, the beetle tried to free itself from the spear as she twisted it deeper. Leaning into the weapon, she used her weight to push it farther in before ripping it free with a sucking, slurping sound that turned her stomach.
Elsa and Boris were driving their spears into another creature as the other immortals started shouting for the key to the weapons room. Still trying to close the door, Gromuck yanked the key over her head and threw it across the room.
Before a dark fae could snatch the key, a beetle scurrying across the ceiling fell onto her back. The dark fae shrieked as the beetle’s mandibles and pincers tore into her flesh.
The agony in those screams was like needles taken to Sahira’s eardrums, except the shrieks didn’t rupture her eardrums and bring sweet, noiseless relief like the needles would have. She’d like to say the screams ended fast, but the beetle relished its meal.
Sahira spun and drove her spear into the creature as a dwarf scampered forward to retrieve the key. The beetle reared back.
All its hideous legs opened and closed as it sought to free the spear. With its belly exposed, Elsa lunged forward and plunged her spear into it. The creature screeched as someone else’s screams filled the air.
The skittering of more feet and the rustle of wings alerted Sahira to more beetles scampering across the ceiling. The one on the dark fae fell over, revealing the hole it left in the woman’s forehead.
The horrifying realization it had eaten her brain, or sucked it out, wasn’t slow in coming, as clearly only empty space remained, but her mind shouted denials while her eyes absorbed the gruesome details. She had no idea how the beetle had done it, and she didn’t want to know.
Getting the answer meant she had to get too close for comfort.
