Page 106 of Slaying With Sylphs

I scream Iggy’s name and shout for him to run. But all he does is pause, confused, in the middle of Main, staring at me.

Desperation rising, I claw my way toward him, but Laerith gets there first, snatching Iggy out of thin air. She slips with impossible speed to the opposite side of the street as relief floods me.

Leighton turns to me with a snarl, both fists balled as I pause in front of him. Around us, monsters stop and turn to look, confused at what’s going on. Murmurs rustle through the crowd. Leighton looks around, and for a moment, I think I see fear and terror on his handsome features.

I’ve got to get him out of there.

“Let me help you, Leighton,” I say calmly. In my mind’s eye, I picture the glowing blue spear.

He turns to me and growls, that same deep wolfy growl Connall sometimes does when he’s riled up. It lifts the hair on my nape. It’s easy to imagine the shifters as predators seeing Leighton right now.

A horrible thought occurs to me. Can he shift into his wolf like this? I gulp around the idea of that.

Iggy raises a racket across the street. Out of the corner of my eye, I make out Laerith holding him on her muscular shoulder, even though he’s squawking and throwing an absolute fit.

Leighton’s eyes follow the noise, and his smirk returns. I sense he’s about to move just moments before he does. We run in parallel toward Iggy, and the moment Laerith sees us coming,she slips up the street with the young gargoyle. But Iggy’s losing his mind, stabbing at her face with his tail spade and shrieking like he’s possessed.

I scream the moment she loses her hold on him, and he spins, executing a perfect flip in thin air and slicing toward me. Leighton disappears and reappears behind Iggy, raising both hands, his mouth open on a long, loud wail.

Envisioning the spear piercing Leighton through the heart, just like Laerith taught me, I cup my hands together and push the magic away from me, begging it to protect Iggy as he flaps wildly toward me. A stream of blue flames shoots out of my palms, and Iggy squeaks, darting around them.

He lands on top of my head and slings himself around my neck, choking me half to death with his chubby frame in front of my face.

“Ig, fuck!” I shout, trying to shake him away just enough to see.

Focus. Focus. Focus.

I picture the spear entering Leighton’s heart. A loud thud and a grunt break my concentration. Reaching up, I tear Iggy from over my face and jam him on my shoulder, looking at where Leighton stood.

He was a solid ten feet away, and now he stands inches from Iggy and me. Like this, he towers over us. Iggy roars, likely sensing something’s wrong. It’s a deep battle cry that nearly ruptures my eardrums as he yanks at my hair, unable to see the threat.

Leighton glares at me, his features twisted into a sneer. His eyes drop down to his chest, where just the blue-jeweled hilt of my spear protrudes. He clutches at it, tugging as Laerith appears by my side. She reaches for Iggy, but he’s stabbing wildly in front of us, trying to dispel an enemy he can’t see.

“Think about releasing him,” Laerith whispers, reaching down to rest her hand in the middle of my back.

“Lou! Lou!” I hear my mates even though I can’t tear my focus from Leighton, who’s still grabbing at the weapon lodged all the way through him.

“Quiet!” Laerith hisses over my head.

A crowd has gathered around us, staring, but I pay them no mind.

Laerith pats Iggy’s haunch. “You cannot see the revenant, young one, but simply lend Lou your comfort and support. That will be the greatest help you can give, young one.”

Iggy presses tighter to my head until I’m practically wearing a gargoyle hat, but when he wraps a hand around my head to hold my ear, and his spade slips into my shirt to rest over my heart, I pull in a deep, steadying breath.

I think about my mates. I think about Leighton, and that terrible time I wasn’t in control of my body. And then I pray for him to return to Alaya, the patron goddess of all shifters.

“You can go, Leighton,” I whisper, focusing on the spear, willing it to spread battle magic throughout the twisted, dark form holding him captive.

Blue flames form a circle where the spear’s stuck, radiating outward like fire burning a sheet of paper. Leighton claws and scratches at it, terror taking over his features as he steps backward.

Iggy rubs soft circles over my heart, and Laerith presses her hand higher up my back.

Then, out of nowhere, my nieces join us, their hands finding spots near Laerith’s as tears fill my eyes. Connall and Dirk come next, steady presences as Connall’s arm slips around my waist. Dirk’s there in elemental form, sending a cool breeze over my cheeks, telling me he loves me with action.

The strength of my love and devotion to my family surges through me. I can’t allow them to be hurt, and I can’t allow Leighton to be like this, not if I have an ounce of power that could change the outcome for him.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as the fiery circle spreads outward. Gasps go up around us, murmurs as the Evertons begin to see Leighton for the first time. By the time the blue flames reach his extremities, his whole figure is cloaked in a blue tint, all the way to his eyelashes.

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