Page 56 of Fate Promised

Juri’s hands clenched into fists. The longer Hoyt remained alive, the longer danger hung over Triska’s head. Even though Hans wanted Hoyt alive—probably to kill him rather than question him—Juri wasn’t taking that chance. He’d threatened Triska, so the necromancer’s days were numbered.

Chuffing came through, even telepathically.

Juri rubbed his mouth. Shit, he probably should have run that decision by Hans.

There was a pause.

Juri glanced at Triska.

Juri ran his hand over his head and stalked to the water’s edge, letting the waves lap over his toes. The gentle pulse of waves had turned more violent, with the water sucking at his feet as it reared back, only to crash back on shore with a larger, churning force. Was there a squall coming? He couldn’t tell because the mist blocked the horizon.

He’d wanted to hide his connection to Ryba and Triska. Juri and Hans were the same age, and they’d joined the vulk pack, along with Zann—Hans’s brother—around the same time. As Zann drifted apart, working to prove himself in the pack and move up the hierarchy to becoming Alpha, Hans and Juri grew closer. Kyril made up a fourth member of their group, but he was always a touch aloof, perhaps closest with Zann.

During those first decades of pack life, Juri snuck away to Ryba and Triska by himself. He was violating sacred vulk protocol, and he couldn’t tell anyone. But one hundred and one years ago, they’d thought Zann had died, and the pack fell apart. Hans secluded himself, refusing to see anyone, and Juri and Kyril often traveled together, visiting other pack members and killing spawn. It was then he’d started bringing Kyril with him to Ryba. Even after Hans returned to the pack and reunited it last year, Juri still hadn’t told him about his visits to Ryba. Hans was Alpha now, the one who laid down the vulk creed. Enforced the rules.

And as Kyril had pointed out, Juri kept breaking them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Triska. She faced him, speaking to Koschei and Fergal about the Herskala bowl. Her gaze kept flicking over to him.

Juri repeated.

Hans said.

The muscles of his shoulders loosened. Hans was the only other immortal in Ulterra who knew what he was going through. He knew about the rune’s choice. He knew how Juri’s chest pounded and twisted, longing for the bond with Triska.

Hans said.

The slight pressure in Juri’s head faded as the connection ended.

As Juri rejoined the others, Fergal frowned down at the bowl, then lit it again. “We can now use the bowl to find the island power source. It should be able to show us exactly where it is.”

A rumble erupted from the island, and the ground shook. Juri whirled around and grabbed Triska. The trees along the shore rippled as the ground bucked again. “Tell me you have a bird who brings on earthquakes?”

Koschei scanned the shoreline. “Nope. This is new.”

“Lucky us.” Juri turned toward the water. The light from the suns, previously straining to peek through the mist, snuffed out completely. Black drenched clouds punched through the air, appearing where only thin, milky fog floated before. The clouds hung low with heavy bellies of billowing dark that expanded rapidly. Their tops were flat, making the entire cloud resemble an anvil. The rush of wind filled the beach, whipping the waves into white caps.

“We need to get out of here and take cover. Now,” Juri shouted.

Triska cried out and pointed. A slender point had emerged from the dark cloud, and the water below it frothed. A funnel cloud was forming.

Juri picked Triska up and sprinted back into the forest. “Find somewhere inland,” he yelled over his shoulder to the others. “Somewhere safe.”

Triska clung to his neck, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she hung on. “Koschei’s house?”

They sprinted up the path, and Koschei’s home rose before them, the massive, moss-coated trees brushing against it. “No. If that waterspout hits land …” He sucked in a breath of air and ran faster. Those trees could crush the house.

When he’d explored yesterday, he’d discovered the island was flat and lush, except for the cliffs where Koschei’s original house stood.

He needed a cave. Or even a ditch they could duck into.

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