Ilona Andrews - On the Edge

They slithered from the cliff. Ten feet. Twelve. Fifteen. Twenty. Declan hauled her upright and breathed one word.

“Run!”

They dashed through the woods, running as fast as the terrain would allow. The tree trunks flew by. She leapt over the branches and crashed through the brush.

“Faster,” Declan called directly behind her.

Rose squeezed out a burst of speed. The air seared her lungs. Her side began to hurt. She kept running. The woods blended into a blur, punctuated by her hoarse breaths.

They burst into a small glade. Declan caught her arm and spun her around. “We make a stand.”

She doubled over, trying not to vomit. He didn’t even look winded.

Declan pulled a sword from the sheath on his back and turned it over once. “Use short-range flash,” he said. “The less noise we make, the better.”

The first hound padded out of the bushes into the open. It tensed, the muscles along its long limbs contracted, and it leapt into the air.

Declan swung. The blade cleaved the hound in two, and he sank flash into the ruin of the body. Acrid fumes surged from the hound’s carcass. Rose coughed and moved away from him. Short-range flash. She could do that.

A hound burst through the shriveled brush. It made for her, jumping in great leaps, maw gaping, bloodred fangs ready to rip. The four eyes glared at her with luminescent gray. The hound lunged, and Rose flashed. Her short, controlled burst of magic cleaved across the creature’s shoulder all the way deep through the chest. The top half of the beast slid aside, betraying a glimpse of soft purplish innards filled with gray slime, and crashed to the side.

Another hound dashed at her from the right. Rose flashed again and watched its head roll through the dead grass.

A dark flood of the beasts came loping through the Wood, stark against the dull, magic-drained trees. It headed straight for them. In a moment they would be overwhelmed.

Rose leaned back and took a deep breath. A line of magic thrust from her, curving to the ground. It split into three and began to circle her.

The foremost beast sprinted, muscle flexing under the bruise-colored pelt, legs pumping, horrible teeth bared. It leaped at her and fell aside, cut in three pieces.

They made right for her. With her flash blazing bright, she made an irresistible target. She concentrated on rotating the arches as fast as she could, slicing through the hideous bodies until the ground grew wet with their gray sluice. To the left, Declan struck at the stream of hounds, his blade a lethal whirl. He cut with deadly precision, fast and unstoppable. Every time his sword sliced, something died. He was absolutely beautiful.

The last hound paused on the edge of the clearing. Rose dropped her flash and sent a single sharp bolt of blinding white at it. Declan flashed at the same time, the two flashes connected, and the hound went down.

The clearing was wet with gray blood and littered with smoking bodies.

Declan looked her over. “Unhurt?”

She nodded.

“How many did we kill?” he asked.

She surveyed the carnage. “Fifty?”

“Twenty-two.” He wiped his sword and slid it back into his sheath.

“Only twenty-two?” She couldn’t believe it. It seemed like many more . . .

“Twenty-two.” He took her by the arm. “Run. Before the rest get here.”

They ran through the woods.

“I don’t think William’s helping Casshorn,” she said.

“I don’t think so either.”

“Then what is he doing here?”

“Hell if I know.”

If William had been in league with Casshorn, he had only to make a noise, and the entire swarm would’ve been on them.

“What was that?” Declan asked.

“What?”

“The sphere of flash you did back there?”

“It’s a modified Ataman’s defense,” she told him. “When I saw William for the first time, I got scared he’d get through and split the arch into three. For some reason, I can rotate them a lot faster this way. Why, you never saw something like this before?”

“I don’t think anyone has ever seen anything like this before,” he told her. “Keep running.”

THEY reached the palisade in record time. Grandma waited inside by the gates.

Declan did a little bow. “Madame.”

“Yes, yes,” she told him with a sour face. “Tom wants to see you inside.”

Declan nodded.

“Did you get the hair?” Rose asked.

“We have it.”

Declan disappeared into the building. Rose collapsed on the ground. She lay on her back, her arms and legs flung wide. Her body felt like wet cotton put through a washing machine.

“Are you all right?” Éléonore’s face blocked the sky.

“Fine,” she said, breathless. “I’ll just lie here for a bit. He’s made of iron: he runs very fast and never gets tired.”

“The hooligans escaped,” Éléonore said.

“What?”

“Jeremiah called me on your phone. He took them and Leanne with her boy out into the Broken, just as agreed. They sat all quiet and nice, until he stopped to make a right onto the freeway at the gas station, and then they threw the truck’s door open and bolted.”

Rose closed her eyes and groaned. Why me?

“Jeremiah and Leanne tried to catch them, but they’re gone.”

“They went back to the house.” Rose pushed off the ground and sat. She felt a thousand years old. Where else would they go? “It’s Jack’s fault. He’s convinced we’ll all fail to fight Casshorn without his help, and he must’ve talked Georgie into it. I’ll get them and take them out to Leanne. I doubt they’ll come out for anyone but family, so it’s either you or me, and it will have to be me, since you’ll be cursing Casshorn.”

“Hurry,” Grandma said.

“All right.” Rose pushed herself to her feet.

“Go!” Éléonore waved.

Rose headed for the gates. She briefly considered getting Declan but decided against it. He’d need to protect the palisade while they cast their curse, and she knew the Wood like the back of her hand. She’d be back in a couple of hours, after she dropped the boys with Leanne. The boys had to be taken to safety, and the faster she managed it, the better it was for everyone involved.

ROSE jogged at a brisk trot down the road. Her body ached. There was clearly wisdom in all that running Declan did in the mornings. If she ever hoped to keep up with him, she’d have to take up running, even though she hated it with a passion. She walked a lot, but there was a world of difference between walking a few miles down the road and running for your life. And cleaning offices for ten hours a day didn’t exactly improve her athletic ability. She’d have to ride better, too. She did well enough at slow speed, but a canter would have her hanging on for dear life, and the gallop was right out.

She recalled Declan being all indignant about the boys not being able to ride a horse. Like everyone had a damn horse in the Edge. The only reason she knew how to ride was because Grandpa had insisted on keeping his half-blind old mare, Lovely. She remembered riding her as a child. Lovely died a few years back, and Grandpa had never replaced her.

She wondered if Grandpa Cletus would’ve approved of Declan.

Rose rounded the turn and glimpsed the house. She braced herself. There would be angry yelling and tears. She’d get her way in the end, but it would take some harsh words.

A tall, dark-haired man stepped into the road from between the shrubs. He wore jeans and a black leather jacket over a faded T-shirt. Wild eyes looked at her, glowing like two pieces of amber.

William.

Rose halted.

He made no move to approach her. His face was grim, his mouth a severe line. “The kids are safe,” he said. “I’ve watched over them.”