Page 82 of Centaur Bolt

Behind them, came Havoc.

Our friend’s interrogation skills could use some work,Iskar said.

“Gotta go,” Havoc mumbled as he unlooped the reins and climbed aboard.

I twisted my head to regard him. “What the freeek?” It came out remarkably clear, really.

A large form bearing what was clearly a weapon appeared in the doorway.

“Gotta go. NOW!” Havoc insisted.

He had to grab for the saddle horn as I spun. Something spat past me, and I launched myself into a gallop. Had no idea which way to go, but back would get us nowhere. So instead, I continued along the road.

So much for town number one.

I galloped for another hour before slowing. Despite the heavy cloud cover, the sky was lightening toward dawn. We needed to get off the road. Our disguise might hold in daylight. Or it might not.

Havoc seemed to agree. “We’ll camp,” he said, yanking his now thoroughly wet cloak closer to his face. “A building would be nice.”

About a mile later, I spotted an overgrown access road and picked my way along it. The structures in the scrubby clearing at the end weren’t promising. Most of the walls had collapsed.

“It’s the best we’ll do.” Havoc slid off me and walked over to an old trough. It had an ancient, rusty pump system, but when he leaned on the handle, it moved. Eventually, it coughed up water that appeared fresh enough to consume. He cupped his hands beneath it, and drank.

I butted him out of the way, dropped my head into the trough, and slurped like—well, like a horse, I guess. The water had an earthy flavor, but I was so thirsty it tasted like fine wine.

When I raised my head, Havoc grabbed at the bridle’s headstall. I spat the bit out of my mouth and waited for him as he peeled the saddle off, too. He carried it to where two walls held on to a tiny patch of roof and set it down.

I’d been simmering on the entire town incident for miles. I fed the anger into the shift, as Iskar helped me regain my human form. I managed to only hiss at the pain, but I caught the Dragon’s eye roll, and it was the final bloody straw.

“What in the world did you do in there?” I demanded. “Starting a fight gets us nowhere.”

“Didn’t start the fight,” the Dragon shifter said. “Finished it, though.” He smirked.

I advanced on him. “This is no bloody joke. If we want to get away, we need either a Watcher or a gate. Unless you beat the information out of someone…”

The Dragon’s eyes gleamed. “No.”

“Then we’re screwed.”

“I beat up his friend,” he clarified. “Then he told me there is a Witch that lives near the next town.”

I stared at him as reason attempted to push through my disgust. Watchers did their best to blend with their surroundings, but their exotic appearance made that almost impossible. It was easier in a non-virgin realm such as this, where so many different species co-existed. In these outlying areas, however, the locals still often labeled them as healers.

Or, in some cases, Witches.

Of course, sometimes Witches were just Witches.

If you stop with the hostility, we might get this figured out,Iskar theorized.

I took a deep breath. “You think this Witch is a Watcher?”

“Could be.” Havoc yanked on an old bit of furniture to clear a spot beneath the meager overhang.

“They didn’t know?”

“Didn’t say. Just called her a Witch.”

I regarded him with no small amount of exasperation.

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