Page 68 of A Fate of Blood and Magic
I fisted my hands, calling it to me. But before I could cast, Kieren reached into his inner pocket of magic and hurled a small dagger. It spun in the air, fast and precise, aimed for the man’s gun hand.
The gun fired.
I threw myself over Kieren, instinct finally snapping into action as my magic formed an invisible shield around us when we hit the floor.
My heart pounded, bile rising. “Kieren, are you?—”
“I’m okay,”Kieren said, moving me aside.
He leapt to his feet. I dropped the shield in time for him to kick the gun away. I scrambled after it, grabbing the pistol with both hands. Kieren pinned the man down with a knee to his throat and ripped his dagger from the man’s hand.
He screamed, but it wasn’t a sound that chilled me. It was his eyes. There was no fear. Only rage.
He wanted us dead. Me, Kieren. All of us.
If Elias had been home . . . If the kids?—
My hands shook.
I gripped the gun tighter, planting my feet. My left handsteadied my right while my finger hovered over the trigger. I aimed for his temple.
“Is anyone else with you?” I asked, and I was stunned by how steady I sounded.
The man sneered, blood staining his teeth. Kieren pressed harder on his throat, making him choke.
“They’re all dead,” Alastor said, striding through the ruined doorway.
Blood streaked his hands and shirt. His breath came shallow, but his eyes blazed with fury as they locked onto the man on the floor. A shadow unraveled at his feet, slick and inky, spreading across the floor like a living thing.
“There were twenty of them,” he said, his voice low and shaking with rage. “In the woods, surrounding your house.” His eyes remained on the man. “Ease off,” he snapped.
Kieren hesitated.
“Now,” Alastor growled, and his shadows surged forward.
Kieren sprang back.
Black tendrils shot out and wrapped around the man’s limbs, pinning him flat against the floor. A razor-thin shard of shadow curled up and slashed across the side of his ribs. Not deep, but precise. The man screamed, back arching as the shadows tightened like a vice.
Alastor didn’t flinch. He advanced slowly, the shadows that clung to him writhing at his heels like they hungered for more.
“Alastor,” I said, my tone sharp. “Don’t kill him. Not yet.”
His stormy eyes flicked to mine. The shadows paused mid-strike, shuddering like they were restraining themselves only for my sake.
“I needanswers first,” I said.
The shadows loosened just enough for the man to gasp for air.
Alastor exhaled once, slow and controlled, then he crouched at the man’s side. “He’ll live.” Without breaking eye contact, he reached out and dragged his blood-slicked thumb slowly across the man’s jaw, leaving a crimson smear at the corner of his mouth.
The man flinched, eyes wide with panic, but Alastor only tilted his head.
“You’re going to talk,” he said, voice soft and calm. “Then you’ll beg me to kill you.”
Two lirio ducked through the ruined doorway. I didn’t know their names, but I recognized them from their village.
“Thank you,” I said, softly to them. To Alastor.
