Page 72 of Haunted Hearts

“What wasthat?” Jonah asks, his eyes already scanning the sky.

“A Purcian.” Brock stands up abruptly, pulling me up with him. He looks over his shoulder, “Tootsie?”

“Don’t worry, we got it!” she calls from the cluster of reapers.

My own reaper turns back to me, “Come on, let’s give you some space. The others can take care of our new arrivals and the Purcian.”

“Wait, I can’t just leave everyone to deal with—”

“Trust me, they’re going to be fine,” Brock cuts me off before shooting me a tight smile. “You just brought a keg to a party. In their down time, Caveman and Tootsie make it a game to see how many pests they can kill. Mostly they hunt demons, but Purcians are just as fun.”

“We’ll stay out here, too,” Theo offers. “Best we face them with others who know how to kill them rather than doing it on our own in the future when we’re unprepared.”

When I open my mouth to protest again, Brock sighs, “Willow, we knew it would be a possibility they’d sense you when we brought you here. I warned everyone beforehand so don’t worry. They’re ready for a little fun.”

Another shriek sounds in the distance. Except, it doesn’t sound so distant. Whatever a Purican is, I don’t have the energy to give it the proper attention a threat like it requires. If the others are sure they have it, I’ll let them deal with it.

My reaper must have seen the acceptance in my face because he tucks me under his arm and guides me away from the others. Together, we head towards his house.

Chapter23

BROCK

“Here, take a seat and take a sip of this.”

I guide Willow towards the couch and I shove her mug of hot cider that I carried in with us, into her hands.

Willow takes it and brings it to her lips whilst in a daze. A roar of voices and battle cries gives both of us pause. The house shakes. Drifting under the door comes the stench of rotting corpses and sulfur.

I cringe.

The Purcian’s roar rattles the windows. It’s so close that I tense, waiting for it to hit the roof. It will know Willow is in here and depending on how hungry the creature is, it could force its way inside. Instead, its ferocious cry is cut off. The ground shakes again and there’s a round of cheering and laughter.

Well, that was fast. Tootsie and the others really were ready to maul something tonight. Chuckling, I look down at Willow, whose attention is latched onto the door.

“Hear that? It’s already over.” Willow looks up at me with confusion. “It’s all fun and games here. I’m sure whoever killed it is already boasting about it, strutting around like a peacock.”

“Oh… that was easy.”

I chuckle darkly, “They’re big and mean, but stupid and instinct driven. It makes predicting their moves and killing them easy.”

While I speak, my eyes slide over to the door. Now that the Purcian is taken care of, I half expect her guys to come storming in here to berate me and demand that I bring them back to Death’s house. I probably deserve it. Letting Willow search for Remy after all the pressure she’s been under was selfish of me. But I saw the fire in Willow’s eyes and the set of her jaw. She would have insisted on searching for Remy no matter what.

The guys don’t barge in, though. Even after I’ve grabbed the knitted quilt and thrown it over Willow’s shoulders and started a small fire in the fireplace. I have a feeling this is Theodon’s doing.

He’s giving me time to apologize.

I’ll have to thank the guy,again. Later, though. For right now, I sink onto the couch with Willow and wrap my arm around her shoulders. Willow stares straight ahead, her eyes unfocused. I can’t really tell if she’s in a daze or if she’sseeingsomething, like how I’d seen through her eyes while she rescued Remy and the four other spirits. Under my arm, I feel her shiver.

“Hey, are you still cold? Do you want another blanket?”

Willow blinks. It’s slow but when her eyelids lift, Willow appears more alert. Her head turns to me, and our eyes meet.

“I’m fine.”

“Bullshit,” I roll my eyes before glaring at her. “What’s going on? How can I help?”

Her throat convulses as she shifts in her seat. She opens her mouth and I almost hear the words ‘nothing’s wrong’ even before she utters them. But then she shuts it, giving my questions a proper amount of consideration. Her eyes shift downwards to stare into her mug.

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