Page 185 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
“What is it?” Glashtyn’s footsteps scrambled to reach his comrade. “Bloody pox on a Goblin!”
“Oh—that?” Sedge was dang close to snickering. “That’s Kit’s kill, as I warned you.”
“Jesus, Joseph, and Mary!” Pecks exclaimed, suddenly quite Christian despite his attempts at outright murder. “Whatisit?”
“An Incubus,” Sedge answered. “Kit’s made quite a shambles of the wagon with its carcass. Bone shards everywhere, you see. I suppose I must clean up afore I reach the kirk. The bones will only boost the druids’ powers, ken. Can’t have that.”
Were shivers contagious? Because I could feel our ambushers’ skin crawling.
“Are you satisfied that Pete isn’t tucked away in the wagon?” Sedge asked, bored as hell. “If he was, you’d have just stuck him like a pig at any rate.”
Several heated beats passed before Glashtyn grumbled, “Fine, you can pass.”
Pete exhaled. The first sound I’d heard from him since Pecks had uncovered the Incubus head.
“But I warn you, Sedge,” Glashtyn hissed. “If we should discover you’ve deceived us—”
“You’llwhat?” There was that prehistoric rumble again.
When no reply came, I figured the ambushers knew when they’d pushed Sedge far enough.
“I’m about fed up with your threats,boys.”
I gulped.
“Get the hell out of my way before I drain you both to husks.”
Muttering insults, both harbingers backed off.
As Sedge spurred Bob back into motion, Kit plumped back down atop Pete and I, still snarling as we left Pecks and Glashtyn to the Ogres.
After what seemed like miles into the balmy Summer Court, Sedge finally drew us to a stop. On the road’s shoulder, I saw, when Pete unshrouded us, freeing Sionna to shake off her fear like rain. Sedge leaned against the wagon bed, its ledge now knife-nicked.
“By Goddess, Pete!” Sedge chortled around the fangs still out for blood. He stroked Kit’s neck as she sniffed the Incubus head on her front paws. “For once, your carnal blunder has actually saved your sorry hide!”
The moon bleaching us like milk, Pete and I made eye contact and burst into laughter.
Thirty
“Ithoughtthosedudes’whole point was to capture me for my bounty,” I remarked the next morning. We were packing up camp, discussing the now humorous events of our jaunt into Lithalaly.
Pete wiped sweat off his brow. “Aye, that’s the gist of it, Shorty.” He shouldered his bedroll, marched it to the wagon.
“Then why the hell were they stabbing through the wagon? They could’ve killed me—ruined their shot at those seeds.”
Sedge glanced up from dismantling our fire ring. With the harbinger hub so near, we now needed to erase all traces of our existence anywhere—so no one could track us. “They weren’t thrusting hard enough to kill.”
“They still could’ve wounded me severely,” I replied to Sedge. “Even if they weren’t aiming to kill. And without medical attention, I’d still have died—just slower.”
“Medical attention?” Pete remarked. “You’d have gottenmagicalattention.”
I scoffed, folding my dusty cloak, which I wouldn’t wear again until we reached the Shadow Court. Summer was as I’d imagined—hot, humid, and stifling. Once Pete finished his chores, he’d stroll into town and procure us more suitable attire for the current climate. He refused to take me with him—on account of the other harbingers—so I hoped we were on the same page as to what “suitable” meant. Because when he’d used that word, he’d smiled like a wolf with a lamb, his gaze dipping to my body. “One of them have healing powers? Like Olea?”
“Goddess, no,” Sedge said. “Glashtyn’s powers are for brute killing—he can transform into atarbh.”
At my cluelessness, Pete said, “A bull, Shorty.”
“Ah—okay.”
