Onyx Eclipse (The Raven Queen's Harem Book 5)(15)

Leaves crunch behind me and I center back in this world.

“Well, well, well,” a deep voice says. “Isn’t it a little dangerous to be out here alone?” I spin and face a lanky man. His skin is pale. A heavy beard covers his chin. I don’t know him.

I cut my eyes away from him, looking down the street for the car. “Why would it be dangerous?”

“Dark street, outside a shady bar. Three people went missing in this very spot a week ago.”

Ah, so he knows who I am. He doesn’t need to know that I’m aware. “I heard.”

He eases closer. I feel the brush of his leather jacket against mine. The hair on the back of my neck prickles in warning. “Plus there’s a nasty virus going around. You’re not afraid?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, wrapping his arm around my waist. I rear back, jabbing him with an elbow and stomping on his foot. I spin, kicking him in the thigh and catching the glint of silver from a blade in his hand.

“There’s only one reason for you to come back here tonight. You’re going to try to stop her.” He lunges, swiping the knife toward my gut. I jump back but he snags the front of my jacket, tearing the leather. “I can’t let you do that.”

I quickly move behind a parked car but he scrambles for me, sliding over the hood. While he’s off balance I punch him twice in the face, slamming his wrist against the window shield. He struggles but my adrenaline surges, and like with Hildi, magic rallies. My nails grow long and pointed, stabbing into the thin skin of his wrist. He releases the knife with a surprised jerk. It clatters under the car.

“Stay away,” I tell him, panicked at the nails, sharp as razors. He’s frozen, and that gives me time to race toward the main road. The metal of the car hood groans under his weight but within seconds he’s back on his feet, chasing me.

The color of his eyes darken as he runs, the hatred in his veins vibrates off his skin. He moves his hands together, creating a ball of visible energy—like fire but not quite. He tosses it in his hands before throwing it at me. I dodge and it crashes into a blue mailbox, knocking it to the ground.

With nowhere to run, I take a deep breath and conjure every lesson, every training session, every skill I’ve developed over the past five months, and add it to the rage boiling beneath the surface. We clash in the middle of the street, fist to fist, foot to knee, elbow to rib.

If I’m surprised at my strength then I know he is too, but the training has changed me and with every punch and jab I feel an increase in confidence. His moves grow sloppy, his punches miss. I lasso the energy and fling it at him and a rope lashes out, snapping him across the chest. He dives for me and I duck, forcing him to land on his back on the ground. I stand over him, wishing I had my sword, because I’d run it through him. My nails spike again, itching to draw blood.

“Stay out of fights you don’t understand,” I tell him.

He’s dazed, probably concussed, but he still speaks. “You’ll never beat her. Her legions are only just now assembling. War will come to this realm.”

“As long as I am alive that is not an option. And when I kill her, death and destruction will end in her world, too.”

I kick him in the side, hearing the snap of bone. Headlights flash on the street and a horn honks. I leave the broken man—or demon, whatever he was-- on the street and get in the back seat.

“Take me home,” I bark, spilling the address.





Chapter 15


Dylan


I walk the foyer, pacing like an animal in a cage. At some point, Morgan slipped from the house while I studied Sam’s photographs. She got past me. The Sentinel. Shame and disgust wracks through me. A time like this is not appropriate for me to forget my true mission.

I couldn’t just run into the city chasing her down. I’d lost my wings—my ability to fly. Where would I even begin? Angry despair takes over and I wait. I’d give her an hour before I totally lost my mind. An hour or I’ll tear the city apart.

Forty-six minutes later I hear the car pull up to the curb and Morgan’s voice lilt up the front steps. Thirty-two seconds after that, she opens the door and I freeze in my spot.

“What the hell happened to you?” I roar. She’s dirty. Covered in forming bruises and blood. My heart plummets at the same time as my blood pressure rises. “Who did this?”

She sighs with annoyance, taking off her coat. “Some minion of the Morrigan’s, if I had to guess.”

“He attacked you?” The thought is incomprehensible. I knew there were loyalists out there but to actually attack Morgan on the street…

“Yes.” She glances down at a broken nail and mutters, “Fucker.”

“Morgan.” I am seething. Beyond seething, but I need to calm down. Need to. Will try to. Failing miserably. “Are you okay?”

She finally looks at me—like really looks at me for the first time since she walked in. She takes in my anger—probably my fear—and her eyes soften. “I’m fine, Dylan. I’m sorry if you were worried about me.”

Unable to handle her nonchalance for one second longer, I explode. “You don’t get to walk out of the house like that. Not now. Not anymore. We’re on the cusp of a great war, already in one, and your days of walking around freely are over. Do you understand?”