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Only, it’s not me he’s looking at—it’s the enchanted replica swaying back and forth that draws him forward.
I wrap the chain around my hand and draw the amulet into my fist before he gets a closer look and our entire plan is ruined. It seems to break Egan out of his trance, and his eyes snap up to meet mine.
“Hello again, Josephine.”
“Stay where you are, Egan,” I demand, proud of how little my voice shakes.
He arches a bushy brow at me and laughs.
“I’m serious. Stay back, or I’ll destroy it.”
He takes another step. “Go ahead.”
Wait… what?
“This tacky thing doesn’t mean anything to me. I’ll do it.”
“Do it, then.”
“He’s bluffing.” Rune yells, his entire being wound tight, ready to pounce at any moment.
I turn to Fintan, but he gives me nothing.
Not good.
“You’ve been playing a dangerous game, witch,” the alpha sneers. “But your little trick won’t save you.”
“He knows,” Fintan says.
Egan knows. He knew from the beginning what we were up to… that we were luring him here for our own plans.
Merde.
How did he figure it out? Did he see through my magic? He couldn’t have… he hasn’t even touched it yet. There’s no way he could know.
“Who tipped you off?” Sebastian growls, soulless red eyes fixed on Egan.
It doesn’t matter now. I drop the replica to the ground and shift into a fighting stance. It was never about the amulet. As long as I can bind Egan with my spell, the plan will be a success.
“How about this?” Egan drawls. “You tell me where the real moonstone amulet is and I won’t devour this little witch of yours in front of you.”
“How about you go to hell?” I snap.
“Insolent witch. I should have let my pack have their way with you. Maybe then you would have learned your ranking in this world. Instead, you dare to think you can outsmart me and stick your nose where it doesn’t belong? You are nothing more than a blood whore.”
“Fuck you,” I spit at the alpha.
Egan takes a single step toward me, and Rune is on him, claws extended and slicing through the air. He engages the werewolf in a clashing flurry of speed and strength. They move so quickly, I have no hope of watching them to keep up.
Finn’s fangs drop in a primal snarl, and he leaps into the fray. His lithe form joins the blur of motion. With every strike, my Celt defies gravity, dancing through the chaos with lethal precision. His speed and agility are unmatched, his blows landing with calculated accuracy.
It’s a wonder to watch.
“Josephine!” Sebastian yells as his sword parries against Egan’s impossibly strong claws. “The spell!”
Right.
I scramble to get everything in place and begin casting. My hands shake as I pull sachets and jars and twine from my canvas bag and set things in place.
