Page 13 of Samhain Savior
I took them in, my men, my brothers. I trusted them more than I trusted myself most days, and I had a feeling that trust was going to be necessary for whatever was headed our way.
“Alright, boys,” I said, nodding at each of them in turn. “Time to stand against the chaos.”
Arcing my arm high, I opened a shadow gate, the quiet of the living room immediately filled with the sounds of a New York City night. Horns honked, sirens wailed, andthe rancid stink of eight million people living right on top of each other wafted into the room.
Stepping through, I looked around carefully. I’d opened the gate at the back side of Trinity Church, sheltered beneath the empty boughs of a giant elm tree. Once I’d assessed there were no immediate threats, I waved the others through, letting the gate close behind us.
The city assaulted our senses immediately—eight million heartbeats creating a symphony of life and desperation. Beneath the surface chaos of traffic and sirens, I could sense the supernatural undercurrents that most humans never noticed. The shadow realm was thick here, heavy with the weight of countless souls and endless ambition.
“Oh, yeah,” Vine moaned, eyes closing as he inhaled deeply. “There is nothing better than New York at night.” Taking another deep breath through his nose, he smiled. “I smell hot dogs.” Another breath, this time with his head tilted a different direction. “I smell beer, and sweat, and you fuckin’ know I smell sex. I smell...” he paused, a low rumble building in his chest as his eyes snapped open, their golden hue darkening as the fire that burned within him rose to the surface. “I smell awitch.”
Chapter five
Delilah
Huddled beneath my cloak, I crouched lower, trying to hide my entire body behind the squat headstone, but it was no use. The crisp autumn air still cut to the bone. Rubbing my hands together for warmth, I let out a frustrated sigh, wondering what the hell I was supposed to do now.
For my entire life, there had only been one plan: when the Order of the Broken Veil finally caught up with us, I was to run to Father Phips.
Well, I’d done that, only to be met with a new nightmare.
Father Phips was dead, and now I was all alone.
“Well,” I said, curling one hand protectively around the pouch across my chest. In my other hand, I held a tiny, glowing ball of witchlight, its muted glow offering little in the way of light but lots in the way of comfort.
Witchlight was surprisingly easy for me to conjure, coming almost without thought. It was something Heidi could never explain. “I guess I’m not entirely alone, right Pandora?”
Her tiny black nose poked out the top of the pouch as she sniffed the air. After a few seconds she offered up a couple of disgruntled clicks and then disappeared back into the warm confines of her cozy, makeshift nest.
“Yeah. I don’t blame you.”
Settling back against the headstone, I let out a frustrated huff of my own and tried to figure out what I was going to do. I knew I’d have to get inside the church and take a look around, but the middle of the night didn’t seem to be the best time to try and accomplish that.
Bringing my hand up, I toyed with the pendant hanging around my neck, feeling heartsick once again that I had been forced to leave Heidi behind. I could still hear her terrified screams as she had stood her ground, giving me the time I needed to escape. Had I known I’d never see her again, I would have stayed, fought beside her. But she’d insisted and I’d listened, as I always had.
And this time, it was Heidi who’d paid the price.
Blinking back yet another wash of tears, I shook my head. There would be time for crying later. Right now, I needed to figure out my next move.
Heidi had told me that Father Phips was a Guardian, and as such, he was supposed to act as a safe haven for everyone who needed shelter from the darkness.
Glancing at the front of the church, I could see the yellow police tape that still hung from the wrought iron fence, blowing in the cold October wind, and I shivered.
Phips was a Guardian no longer.
And that meant I was well and truly fucked.
Standing, I brushed the dead grass and leaves off the hem of my cloak, ready to find a more appropriate place to bed down for the night before I returned tomorrow morning, when a noise on the far side of the churchyard caught my attention. In her pouch, Pandora chittered madly, wriggling and clawing as she fought to escape.
“Easy,” I cooed, undoing the drawstring and making room for her plump little body to climb out. “If you’re hungry, just say so.” She waddled into my cupped hands, her pointy spines all standing at attention as she sniffed the air rapidly, continuing to click and squeak animatedly.
“Pandora, what in the—Oh!”
I froze, the squirming hedgehog clutched to my chest, as a thick blacksomethingstarted creeping through the cemetery like fog rolling in off an angry ocean. Crawling between the gravestones and towering statues, I watchedas the liquid shadows inched along, their ends whipping this way and that, as though searching for something.
“Fuck!” Stuffing Pandora back into her pouch—and ignoring her indignant squeaks while I did it—I reached into my own bag, withdrawing a smudge stick and lighter. Other witches could conjure a flame with the briefest thought, generating anything from a spark to an inferno in the blink of an eye. But, thanks to my stunted magic, a lighter was more reliable than any attempts I could make on my own.
Usually, anyway. This particular lighter seemed to want to be a pain in my ass today.
