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“I fought in the conflict here before I moved to Salem with my wife in the 90s,” Ringer says, his lips hooking up on one side. “The 1890s. Sorry. I forget there’s been another 90s already. Time flies when you’re having fun.”
“Hopefully we’re going to have some fun tonight,” Nadar says, grinning my way. “Now that we have a secret weapon on our side.”
“Or at least unleash a little chaos,” Jamie agrees. “If Edmond can get even a couple of their leaders under his control, our guys can easily take out the rest. Once an army starts rotting from the head, it’s all over.”
We discuss strategy with Colin—marking our path through the riverbed and up to the caves where Sultan said the Shadowbane forces were gathering in advance of their planned attack—and leave just as the moon is rising over Nightfall. As Ringer transforms me into mist along with him, spiriting me over the sleeping village, for a moment, I think I see someone with long black hair running silently down the cobblestone street.
But when I look harder, it’s just an inflatable witch on someone’s front lawn, waving back and forth in the light breeze.
My eyes are playing tricks on me, seeing Casey wherever I look.
I see her in the reeds swaying on either side of us as we hurry through the swamp, and in the water dancing over the stones in the center of the mostly dry riverbed.
I’m distracted by thoughts of her—and weary from our long night (and day) in my bed—but I wouldn’t change a damned thing. We needed that time together, needed it like I need blood every night, and she needed that big meal waiting for her in the dining room.
I’m thinking of her there, hoping she’s feeling safe and happy surrounded by the people she loves, when Jamie holds up a fist ahead of us.
We all stop silently behind him.
He turns, presumably to communicate what’s bothering him about the path ahead, but he doesn’t get the chance to speak before the air explodes, sending each of us flying in a different direction.
The last thing I see is Casey’s face in the sky as I fly through the air, bracing myself for impact with the ground.
Chapter Nineteen
CASEY
“No, Mommy, it’s okay. Me and Annabelle are fine to have a sleepover.” My two, going on thirty-two, year old daughter pats my head like I’m an adorable stress case and plops back down on the couch in Edmond’s apartment beside the hellhound—currently in her dainty chihuahua form, thank goodness.
I’m not one to discriminate based on looks, but her hellhound form is not only terrifying, it’s massive. She would crush the couch—and potentially my tiny daughter—beneath her mighty haunches.
Which is part of the reason I’m not sold on this sleepover…
“I understand you two love each other and are best friends, but I’m worried Annabelle might not be able to control her shifting just yet. And if she can’t, she might hurt you by accident,” I say, pausing a moment for Amy to translate.
I have no idea why the dog can understand English from my daughter’s or Edmond’s lips, but not mine, but I’m far from an expert on supernatural laws.
And that’s as good a reason as any to stay home tonight.
What if the second goblin poultice isn’t enough to get you through the spell? What if you start barfing and pass out before you can get off Priscilla’s boat and she decides to eat you as punishment for spelling her out of her secrets?
There are too many variables you don’t understand, and Amy only has one parent who isn’t currently cursed to die on New Year’s Day!
The inner voice is making a lot of sense, but the howling deep inside my bones—the one that assures me, I can’t survive without the man I love—is so much louder. And I’ll be careful. I’ll balance my boldness with caution, and everything will be okay.
Or Amy will be an orphan before her third birthday…
“Annabelle says she won’t shift inside,” Amy says, banishing the guilt-ridden inner voice—for now. “She promises and says you don’t have to worry, Mama, because she’s my guardian angel.”
The dog sets her tiny paw on my knee with a solemn nod that sends her tongue lolling from her nearly toothless mouth. I’m not sure how she has almost no teeth as a chihuahua and literally dozens as a hellhound, either.
I’m flying blind here and taking things on faith that I probably shouldn’t.
But I confess, the feel of that little paw on my leg does give me comfort.
“That’s very sweet,” I say, stroking Annabelle between her ears. I glance back at my daughter, fresh from her bath and adorable in a pair of pumpkin-patterned pajamas Annie made the girls as a present.
I swear she looks more grown up than she did even a few days ago and more…confident with her protector by her side.
