Page 192 of Veil of Blood and Bone

I clamber to my feet and press down on the lighter again, my finger holding on the hairspray trigger. Another blast of heat hits the thing in the torso, and it screeches.

“Go, Audra! Go!”

She shoves her way out of the seat, legs tangling with the stupid crutches. She winches again and keeps the groan of pain to herself, escaping the muck of the backseat.

Gripping the carcass of the car, she drops into a snowdrift, pushing toward the rear wheel to avoid the creature’s thunderous footsteps.

The creature screams, knocking into pine trees.

Snow and hail plummet to the ground, burying our escape. Large hailstones pummel the back of Audra’s head.

I stoop beneath a flailing limb to grab Audra and pull her free with one hand. Her feet scrape through ice before the creature retaliates.

With its one good eye shut, it slams a fist down on the car and crushes it.

We duck near the back bumper. The scream of bent metal rattles my teeth, but I lock my jaw and push her deeper into the snow pile, like it will somehow blanket her from anything. Everything.

Whatever pain I’m about to inflict on this thing.

I’m so sorry.

Why did I try to run?

I lurch up with the can of hairspray frozen in my grip and set it at the monster. With a yell, I shove down and send a third jet of fire toward it, in time to watch its icy features twist in a feral grin.

It frees its stuck limb from the car and blocks the attack. Flames hit everywhere except my target. A growl rumbles through me, a struck flint, a spark in the darkness.

“Fuck you!”

Something ancient rises, taking over, encapsulating me and lighting me on fire.

Wherever the men are, they might have come, but this is something I’ll have to do alone. The only person I can trust is myself.

Even if I have no clue how to kill this thing. Tonight, it’s going down.

Chapter 39

Wren

Oh, fuck yes.

My brilliant, pretty monster is back and battling like a boss bitch.

She’s wielding fire now, screaming out her fury as the embers cut through hail and hiss and sizzle as they blister the frost giant.

Her expression twists into pure retribution. She’d make any berserker on the field proud. Hell, even the most serpent-tongued courtiers of our Unseelie court would take a bow to her.

She isn’t hesitating anymore.

If she’s frightened, the feelings are relegated to a distant part of her, buried under mounds of instinct and adrenaline.

She roots herself in the snow, her arms straight and hands clenched around the hairspray and lighter. Orange flames cast her features in gold and melt along the individual strands of hair falling from her ponytail.

This is a woman who needs no wings or sword to be deadly. There's brutality in the simplicity of her, in the way she always does what must be done without credit or thanks for compensation.

Thank the gods for fireballs.

Nicholas peels up from the trunk he’d hit, when Isvargr shook him off like a dog with fleas. A low groan sounds from the left and my shadows peel free from a shifting Forest, magic twisting him into his usual towering, brutish form. With flaming red hair, I’m pleased to see.