Fantastical (Fantasyland #3)(112)

“Noc!” I shrieked. “Get back here!”

He rounded the horse, a vickrant flew low, legs aimed at Noc’s back. They connected, Noc started to fly back but Tor charged forward and with a powerful upward swing, the vickrant exploded.

Both men moved back under cover, Noc finished his clip, dropped his gun and advanced, both hands on the axe, he swung back and forth, tearing through the stream of advancing toilroys.

“This is not,” he grunted on a swing, a toilroy disappeared, “goin’,” another grunt, another swing, another toilroy vanishing, “our way, man,” another grunt, another toilroy gone.

Then the vickrants stopped swooping but this was because the toilroys had surrounded us, closing in from all sides. Salem shifted, pressing me to the rock face as Noc and Tor moved around the horse, Tor at his head, Noc at his flank and they kept fighting. They did this without word and I was cut off from the action.

“Let me help!” I shouted over the horse as I watched them battle on.

“Stay safe!” Tor shouted back.

“Tor! I can help!”

“Safe!” he bellowed.

The toilroys pressed closer, blue sparks flew, dancing around, lighting the surface of the rock but where one evaporated, three more were there, pressing in.

“Gods!” Tor exploded on a mighty swing that took out four toilroys but four more were instantly in their place.

“God damn it!” Noc roared, slashing two toilroys with an axe but three surged in to fill their emptied space.

I watched the advance over Salem’s back as my man, his horse and his twin were forced to close ranks as the toilroys relentlessly pressed in.

We were losing. Losing.

Shit!

I closed my eyes, rested my forehead against Salem’s glossy fur, he pressed closer, pushing my back into the rock and I whispered, “Please, please, please, please, please.”

I heard Tor grunt and then I heard Noc growl.

Then I heard an almighty shriek pierce the air or, I should say, what sounded like about thousands of simultaneous almighty shrieks. I automatically dropped the daggers so I could cover my ears against the loud, hideous, ear-splitting sound, my head snapping back, my eyes shooting open and I saw a pink wave of light washing toward us, blue sparks blazing in its path, so many, the sky lit bright with blue and pink, illuminating everything all around us, saturating it with color so bright, I winced.

Then, suddenly, all went dark and there was nothing. No vickrants, no toilroys, no nothing but the sounds of the sea washing on the shore and our heavy breathing.

“By the Gods,” Tor muttered.

“Holy f**k,” Noc whispered.

I fought to catch my breath as the darkness and silence permeated my consciousness.

Then I ducked under Salem’s neck and cautiously approached Tor. As I did, his body went alert (or, more alert), his arm shot out, caught me at the waist and he yanked me behind him.

“Who’s there?” he called into the darkness.

For several seconds, there was no answer.

“Show yourself!” Tor commanded.

I put my hands to his h*ps and peered around his large frame.

Then my body froze as Tor’s froze under my hands and I felt Noc and Salem go still when a soft, pink light illuminated the space in front of us. The light came from a glowing orb that hung suspended over a woman’s upturned hand.

My mouth dropped open.

The woman aimed her sightless eyes in our direction.

“Harold tells me you need some assistance,” Clarabelle remarked.

I stared.

Then I smiled.

Hur-f*cking-rah!

Chapter Thirty

Always

“We haven’t much time,” Clarabelle whispered to me urgently.

We were in her trailer, which was in the middle of no-f*cking-where, having got there after Clarabelle righted Noc’s seriously dented SUV using magic (which, let me tell you, was way freaking cool). She rode with Noc as Tor and I followed on Salem (drizzle or no, pregnant or no, after what happened there was no way in hell Tor was letting me out of his sight).

Her trailer was totally freaking cool. It was all witchy, illuminated solely by fairy lights and flickering, scented candles, these sending shafts of light from the varied-colored crystals and pretty stained-glass symbols hanging all around. There was a big, crystal ball sitting on a fluffy, pink pillow on a table, cushiony, velvet-covered, plush furniture and scarves hanging over lamps, the purpose of which I didn’t know seeing as none of them were lit and the old woman couldn’t see. I could only guess that a witch had to decorate like a witch. Maybe it was a rule.

Clarabelle and I were standing at one end of her tiny living room, her hands holding mine, both of us were wet through. Noc and Tor, also both wet, both standing feet planted, arms crossed on their wide chests and both glowering identical glowers at us were at the other end. I could hear Salem snorting his impatience outside through the still open door.

I looked down at the woman whose face I knew but who was someone I didn’t know but I knew I could trust and I would like if I’d had the chance to get to know her better. Her eyes were pointed at me, unseeing, but her fingers were working through mine as if she could read my thoughts through my skin.

“I want this,” I assured her.

“You must be certain,” she replied.

I looked at Tor. His glower intensified. He was getting impatient.