My chin rises, my jaw clenched tight. Magic tears at my arms, pulling my existence away in gold, glittering granules. The cool summer breeze sweeps up the sparkling particles of my life, and I watch as it dances across the full moon.
The Wild Hunt has been summoned, and that can only mean one thing.
Death will fill the night soon enough.
The swirling wind carries us over my father’s kingdom. The wealthy city of Fallen passes in a blur of shining lights and brilliant colors. Beautiful buildings and busy streets take up miles and miles of the land. I’m thankful I can never truly see it when we pass. I hate seeing it almost as much as I hate seeing the people I once knew.
I do enjoy the flight, though. The feel of the wind caressing me, freeing me, comforting me for just a few short seconds makes me forget our lonely existence. All four of us hold this power, bestowed upon us when we joined the Wild Hunt. I’ve always loved the feel of it.
Until it spits me out as quickly as it pulled me in.
A tingling sensation consumes my body as the glittering particles swirl around me, making me whole once again. The last glinting granule tingles against my fingertip as it settles back into place.
A golden hue emits from a street lamp overhead. It falls across the dark alley, shining light onto the tragedy that’s sure to come. We lurk on the opposite side of the street, waiting on death like hungry vultures.
A train passes fast and loud directly behind us. The speed of it pulls at my hair, swirling my locks restlessly around my face.
Jeriko’s palm connects suddenly with my shoulder. My feet falter, my body falling backward onto the train tracks. A gasping breath leaves my lungs, and I force the magic to burst through me at the last second.
My body breaks down into millions of swirling fragments. Panic makes me aware of every cell within my body as they’re torn apart from one another, and the train collides with my disintegrating image before carrying me swiftly into the night air.
All too quickly, my body shifts back into place, still stinging from the impact. Struggling to stay on my feet, I stagger forward, inhaling sharply. My fingers hover over my heart to make sure I’ve returned in one piece. When the pain starts to fade, I glare up at the sneering Fae.
I hate her.
I hate her with every single fucking sparkling particle of my existence.
Even worse, she reminds me of so many of my terrible brothers.
My narrowed gaze trails over her features. The magic that scars us all takes more and more of us the longer we’re in this job. Jeriko’s been here for so long, half of her face glistens black as if the magic of the Wild Hunt is consuming her from the inside out.
Maybe it’s eating away at her rational mind.
My fingertips press against her shoulder, and Jeriko just stares down at the minor touch from her impressive height. My jaw clenches as the air around us starts to quiver. My magic starts to swirl through me, picking up speed and turning the breeze into a sudden cyclone of power, twisting and turning rapidly.
Carver’s fingers curl around my wrist. At the feel of his hand on my skin, I push down on the rising energy within me. The small contact of Carver’s warm fingers may be the only thing keeping Jeriko and me from ripping each other limb from limb.It’s his attempt at peace as he pulls me away and tsks at me like a disappointed parent.
In a weird way, he is my friend. Or at least, I think so.
“Play nice. We have shit to do.Obviously.”Carver keeps his attention locked on Jeriko as he presses lightly against my back, ushering me forward. I move quickly, if only to hurry away from the touch. Nollix trails behind us, a sulking form amongst the shadows.
Carver is right though. We have a job to do here.
And thinking of clever ways to murder Jeriko isn’t it.
For now.
The four of us make our way across the quiet street. Ahead, a woman is backed into a corner where a brick building and a wooden fence meet. Her dark eyes sweep across the five men before her, assessing every move they make.
Her skin glows with youth, unblemished by age. She seems young, around my age maybe. Early twenties at the most. She stands with more confidence than fear. It’s always interesting to see their will to live.Would I put up that much of a fight?
I’d like to think I would.
“You don’t want to push me,” she tells them on a steady breath.
Really? That’s your opening line? Clearly, you’re not as powerful as you think you are, or I wouldn’t fucking be here.
Inwardly, I cringe.This is about to get bloody.
