Page 12 of Night of Death and Flowers

The sharp edges of the marble shards crunch under my boots as we sprint to the narrow entrance, barely falling outside before the fleeting mirage born from Drake’s magic vanishes into darkness.

My hand slaps over my chest, my heart racing under my splayed fingers as I catch my breath. “Gods!”

I glance inside the church, watching the Phovus slink around the walls, skillfully evading the piercing rays, seeking refuge in the darkness.

“Drake?” I say as he sways where he stands, as if the breeze could blow him away with one, harsh gust. The soft glow of the moon highlights his paling features, revealing bare skin where his tattoos once were. “You drained yourself,” I realize.

I pull him further from the church entrance, my eyes flicking between his stumbling steps to the vestibule of the church. Shadows emerge from the entrance, like tendrils, vining over the front of the church. My gaze trickles up the building as the shadows dissipate.

The terrifying flap of wings echoes through the air before the dark mass of the Phovus emerges on the church roof, blending into its surroundings.

Drake mumbles between breaths, “Is it gone?”

My gaze travels up along the towering buttress to the imposing spire above. There, the intense stare of the predator’s yellow eyes meets mine.

“It shifted again,” I say, as puddles form around us. My thoughts turn to the dagger always sheathed on my thigh, but the blade is useless against the Phovi. Reaching for the weapon, or running, will only ignite the creature’s hunter instincts. Carefully, I watch the beast, but realize it is too late. It has already regarded us as prey.

With a snarl, it launches forward, sliding over the slated spires of the church. “Fuck,” I yell and place my arm around Drake, my legs almost buckling under the extra weight. With one last glance at the church spire, we sprint up the narrow path into the graveyard, winding around the white crypts.

The souls of the dead call to me, their voices whispering in my ears like a haunting melody. The lingering pain and anguish of those who died heightens my powers.

Within a few strides, we halt, our attention drawn to the sound of wings flapping. My gaze swiftly darts back towards the church spire, but it’s empty.

A thud shatters the silence. My fingers tremble uncontrollably as I gasp for air, my body frozen in place. I can sense its presence just feet from where we stand.

I paused, eyes flicking to the thick, heavy branch overhead.

Another resounding bang echoes behind us, sending a murder of crows scattering into the sky.

“There’s more than one,” I whisper.

Thunder roars above, as if the gods have awoken and seen what we’ve done.

Bolts of lightning crackle between ominous black clouds, casting an eerie glow on the headstones. Spotting a dark silhouette in my peripheral vision, I slowly turn my head. A second flash of lightning illuminates the creature tilting its head as its piercing eyes fixate on me.

“Good gods,” I whisper, my breath leaving in a fog.

Light flickers from Drake’s fingers as he lifts his hands, willing another illusion, but the sparks quickly fade. He has nothing left, and now the creature knows it.

“Run,” Drake yells as the Phovus runs through the darkness on all fours, its needle-like teeth glistening with droplets of saliva.

My ankle twists as I turn to run, and the ground grows closer as I fall. My palms absorb the impact as I land on the dirt, the air knocked from my lungs. Drake’s hands are around my waist, urging me to move, but as I stand, pain shoots through my leg into my knee, and I hiss.

“Cali, please,” Drake pleads, his wild eyes widening as the creature reaches us.

“Look out,” I yell as it stands behind him, moving with the grace and fluidity of a cat. Rustling sounds around us. “There’s more.”

How many more? Two? Three?

Their death magic resonates with mine, but there are too many Phovi for me to pinpoint how much danger we’re in—facing one of them is challenging enough.

The Phovus’ hungry stare trickles to my throat. These creatures are faster than us and skilled hunters in the dark. We have little advantage, leaving no room for error.

Drake balls his fist, the wound on his hand still dripping blood. I ready my powers, reaching within until I feel the familiar swell of magic, an extension of myself. It moves, pulling tighter at my core. I stretch it out of myself, like an elastic band that’s ready to snap at any moment.

Lightning streaks illuminate the darkened sky, accompanied by the creature’s strident screech. The only sound that follows is the Phovus’ swift, resounding footfalls, and before I can react, I’m forcefully thrown backward by Drake.

I clamp my eyes shut as I grab the top of the headstone to steady myself, and a surge of energy buzzes through me. Drawing a shaky breath in, I lift my gaze just in time to witness Drake running headfirst into the massive creature.

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