Page 80 of The Bone Man

I gaze around at the wrecked street. Did we miss a piece of the monster? Do we have to burn all the roots and bones underground, too?

Before I can respond, the earth around the pit begins to shift and move. Roots slither out of the ground, winding around the remaining bones at the bottom and pulling them into the depths of the tunnels beneath the Bone Yard.

“Fucking hell,” Marc mutters.

Sharpe, his shoulder now bound in a sling, stares at the retreating roots. “Whatever we’re dealing with, it’s not over yet.”

Flint clenches his fists. “That means there are more lost souls trapped.”

Mayn’s gaze remains fixed on the pit. “This was not the monster of legend then? Perhaps it was a young offspring?”

I press the phone hard against my ear. “Xander, you need to figure out how to cut off the magic siphoning as soon as possible. We can’t let this monster continue to feed.”

“I’ll keep working on it,” he promises before hanging up.

In the silence, the sound of sirens splits the air in the distance.

Help has finally come, but too late for the Bone Yard.

not enough room

- Pen -

From the back of an ambulance,I watch as the demons who had fled the Bone Yard slowly trickle back through the archway before the ashes have even settled.

The paramedics hadn’t crossed the line to look for the injured, but they were waiting when we stepped past the wall. They had hurried to usher Sharpe into the back of an ambulance so he could be checked over.

After making sure he wasn’t in immediate danger, they’d left to see to the others. A few of Sharpe’s officers had taken hits from the roots or sustained cuts from the shrapnel caused by flying wood chips and bone fragments. But most made it out with only minor smoke inhalation.

There were also injuries from the car pileup, as well as people who were trampled or shoved during the mass exodus caused by the Bone Man’s attack.

Before the battle even started, many people sustained injuries far worse than ours, and the paramedics were trying to see to all the humans.

The same medical treatment was not offered to the injured Bone Yard citizens who limped past them, determined to return to the small space in Clearhelm that belonged to them.

It fills me with anger, but there’s nothing I can do. I can’t force them to ask for help any more than I can force the paramedics to offer it.

I turn away from the open doors to face Sharpe, whose hazel eyes dart around the confined space, taking in the sterile, white walls and the medical equipment. Dust and ash dull his brown hair, tousled from the battle, and soot turns his face gray.

I sit beside him. “You need to calm down.”

He scrubs a hand through his hair, leaving the sweat-dampened strands standing on end. “There are people out there with actual injuries. I shouldn’t be taking up a spot in this ambulance.”

I lean closer to him, lowering my voice. “You’re the captain of the Joint Task Force of Paranormal Investigation. Your people need to know that you’re safe and healthy. It’s part of the job.”

He sighs, and his shoulders slump before he hisses with pain. “I hate this part. Why can’t I have super healing like Darius or you?”

I reach out to take his uninjured hand. “Because you’re not a demon. You need to take your lumps and bumps with dignity.”

With a begrudging nod, he squeezes my fingers.

The ambulance dips as a young paramedic climbs in, her expression a mix of fatigue and stress.

She sets her medical bag down next to Sharpe. “Captain Sharpe, my name is Janice, and I’m the paramedic who is going to check you over.”

He offers her a small smile. “Thanks, Janice. Sorry for adding to your workload tonight.”

She shrugs as she snaps on a pair of latex gloves. “It’s all in a day’s work in this city. Now, let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

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