Page 19 of Samhain Savior
“It doesn’t belong to you either,” I spat, pressing my back against the wall, the iron plate digging into my shoulder blades painfully. “Be gone, demon. You have no power here.”
Archer’s reply was a low chuckle, his shadows rolling toward me as he advanced on my position.
“You’re out of salt and out of options, witch. And I’m very nearly out of patience.”
Scrambling away, I did my best to avoid the reaching shadows, but in the small space, I was very quickly overwhelmed. Two of the tendrils darted out and grasped my wrists, wrenching me toward him before slamming my body against the opposing wall. I cried out, struggling against my captivity, but it was no use. The shadows held me fast.
“And I’ll take this before you get any more bright ideas.” Striding forward, Archer grabbed my satchel and lifted it over my head, passing it to one of the others, where it disappeared into the darkness.
“Now, what do we have here?” Archer stepped toward the crypt, his long fingers tracing the symbol as I just had. Inside me, something clenched, the idea of his fingers being where mine had just been causing my heart to race.
It wasn’t fear, exactly, more like...apprehension?
Or maybe anticipation.
I refused to label it as anything as utterly toxic as excitement.
“Nothing!” I barked, then immediately regretted it when Archer just raised an imperious eyebrow at me, his brown eyes looking black in the low light of the tunnel.
“I guess we’ll see about that, won’t we?” Turning back to the crypt, he raised both hands, his fingers out straight, then drove them into the stone on either side of the iron plaque, cutting into the brick as though it were nothing more than warm butter.
I held my breath, watching as he wrapped his fingers around the plaque and tugged, pulling it off the wall easily. At my wrists, his shadows continued to writhe, their touch feeling less like a restraint and more like a caress. Every time I pulled against them, they held fast, but never in a way that actually hurt, which confused me greatly.
But it was just another thing I’d have to examine later.
Archer stared into the gaping maw of the crypt, the hole in the wall looking like an open oven as he leaned forwardand inspected the space. “Empty?” He sounded pissed, but his face remained nearly expressionless. “How curious. Funny that you’d come all this way just to hunt inside an empty tomb.”
“It’s just a crypt,” I deflected, straining against the shadows as they wound higher around my arms and toward my throat. “Its occupant long crumbled to dust. Why are you so surprised there’s nothing in there?”
Truthfully, I was as surprised as he was to find it empty, but I wasn’t about to let him know that.
“So many words, so few answers.” He stared at me, and my skin tingled under his regard. I could see why he was the leader of this band of brooding tough guys. Archer was exactly the type of man who could put fear into someone with a single look. If I had known the reason the tomb was empty, all he would have had to do was send that look my way and I would have told him, whether I wanted to or not.
It was disconcerting, to say the least.
“Mal?” he finally said, his eyes still on me. “If you would.”
One of the men stepped forward, pressing past the other two in the narrow confines of the tunnel. He was tall—they all were—but slender, with dark hair and eyes that appeared to always be moving. As he approachedArcher, Mal hesitated a moment before he removed something from inside his black shirt. Lifting the item, which was on a chain around his neck, he clutched it briefly, as though he didn’t want to part with it, then reluctantly handed it over to Archer.
“Thank you, Mal. I’ll only be a moment.”
Straining against the shadows, I canted my head in an attempt to see what he was doing. My witchlight still hung in the air between us, and as he worked, I could see that the item Mal had given him was a small compass on a gold chain. Confused, I watched as Archer held the compass by the chain, allowing it to swing freely from his closed fist. Archer stared at it for a moment before thrusting his fist into the empty crypt.
Once the compass had fallen still, he began to speak, his words ones that I’d never heard before in a language I couldn’t hope to decipher. As he spoke, the compass began to turn, the needle spinning slowly at first then wildly as his words picked up their pace. Around us, the air seemed to thicken, as though the entire tunnel was suddenly under water. My ears throbbed, the pressure intense, and for a moment, I could almost feel the ground beneath my feet shake, the earth quaking under Archer’s power.
It was overwhelming and awe-inspiring at the same time.
All of a sudden, the whispered words stopped and so did the needle, the tip pointing directly to the right, like the hand of a clock.
“Ah, perfect. Here you are, Mal.” He handed the compass back to Mal, who slipped it over his head as quickly as possible, tucking it back beneath his shirt and then covering it with his palm, as though to reassure himself that it was truly there.
“Now, let’s see what you werereallydoing down here, witch.”
Chapter eight
Delilah
Archer removed his suit jacket, folding it neatly and handing it over to Mal, who took it without complaint. One by one, he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, the fabric a green so dark, it looked nearly black. Methodically, he rolled each of the sleeves up his forearm, taking the time to ensure they were symmetrical and even. His forearms were lean and powerfully built, roped with muscle, veins standing prominently against his lightly tanned skin, and I hated how the action made him look even more dangerous—and attractive—than he had previously.
