Page 72 of The Bone Man

Once the surrounding beings catch on to our plan, the exodus becomes a narrow flood, with our flames driving back the seeking roots. The smoke acts as a signal to draw other beings from deeper within the Bone Yard, and they join their brethren in flight.

The roots that we don’t burn, Merri fights back, her batons lashing out and landing with deadly force.

I keep a cautious eye on Marceau, worried that he’s burning too hot, even with the amulet he wears helping to control his fires. But he shows no sign of pain.

The roots come at us relentlessly, and for every one we drive back, another emerges to take its place. The ground we stand on continues to tremble, the street breaking apart.

Amid the chaos and destruction, we guide the frightened citizens of the Bone Yard toward the exit. When some hesitate, we urge them to keep moving, while the scent of burning wood mingles with the coppery stench of death from those we can’t save.

Despite the odds, we continue to fight, unwilling to allow the Bone Yard to become a graveyard.

serve and protect

- Sharpe -

The afternoon sunglares through the windshield as we speed down the road toward the Bone Yard, leading a line of police cruisers.

Mayn sits in the back with Flint and Anny, and my gaze jumps to the rearview mirror frequently to check on the soul witch.

He continues to maintain his link with the rodent underground, periodically muttering confusing details about roots and bones that make no sense. I don’t understand if the bones are being moved again or what, exactly, is happening, and I’m not sure Flint fully understands, either.

Anny sits on the seat beside him, her head pressed to his shoulder, whining every so often.

Anxiety coils in my gut, and my grip on the steering wheel tightens, my knuckles turning white as I navigate the traffic. Despite my blaring lights, cars refuse to move out of our way, forcing us to weave around them.

Darkness slithers inside me, my dark fae-power rising with my stress, and I struggle to push it away. The last thing I need right now is to make the steering wheel vanish and reappear in my pocket.

Now that I’ve started playing with this gift, it’s difficult to control when emotions run high, and right now, anxiety threatens to shatter my focus.

“Sharpe, are you well?” Mayn’s voice cuts through the tension in the car, her black eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.

I take a steadying breath and force my hands to loosen their stranglehold on the steering wheel. “Yeah, just… worried about what we’ll find once we reach the Bone Yard.”

The radio on the dash is silent, while the news drifts quietly from the car speakers. So far, no disturbances have been reported. It gives me hope that we’ll arrive ahead of whatever spooked Flint.

Please let us arrive in time.

More and more, I dislike the separation forced on us, with me leading the JTFPI and the others running their business as the Cleaners.

It takes effort to remind myself that, even if we all worked for the same team, cases would still divide us. There’s no guaranteed way to always be with Pen and the others. Not with everything we all take on.

But logic doesn’t stop my gut from clenching at the thought of them in danger, and me too far away to help.

A startled cry comes from Flint, and my gaze leaps to the rearview mirror. “What’s wrong?”

Flint lifts a hand to rub his temple. “Those roots squished my rat.”

“It is not good to experience so many deaths,” Mayn says, her melodic voice pitched to soothe.

She must have put some suggestion into the words, because Flint’s blue eyes cut to her. “Don’t try your siren tricks with me. I’ve died hundreds of times; I don’t need to be babied.”

Her braid whips restlessly. “There is a difference between dying and living through another’s death.”

He turns his head to glare. “What would you know about it?”

She stiffens at his tone and looks away. “Allow your mind to tear apart. I do not care.”

“Stop arguing,” I grit out through clenched teeth. “Did you see anything helpful before the rat died?”

---