Page 43 of Blood of a Huntsman

Anika had one knife in each fist, and she was ferocious with both, anticipating all of Mikar's moves. Mikar was just fast enough to avoid her deadly blades. Then Ruby joined the fray.

She wasn't like Mikar, or Levi, or Jack—or any fighter Bash had ever seen. There was no grace, no elegance to her style.

She was fast as the wind, light as a feather, and ferocious as any beast.

Anika would have won against Mikar. Might have won against Ruby. She had no chance against both.

Ruby didn't mind the knives. She didn't care about being kicked or punched or bitten. While Mikar kept Anika's blades occupied, Ruby went for the throat, planting her fangs deep inside Anika's neck and holding still. A warning. If Anika so much as moved, Bash knew the slayer would rip it open.

"You're okay?" Levi asked Cat, softly.

Cat wasn't moving or saying anything just now. Bash got it; she was in shock. He remembered his own sister after they'd been told about their parents.

So he did the same thing he'd done with Emilia back then: wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close.

She allowed it, for a moment.

Then she pushed against him, shaking her head and closing her eyes.

"What's wrong with her?" Chloe asked, rushing to Cat’s side.

"I think she's in shock."

"No—well, perhaps, but that's not the primary concern," Alexius said. "Her eyes are red, wide, and unfocused. Nightbane? Nod if that's the case."

Cat bobbed her head once.

"The—" she tried, then cleared her throat."The letter."

Bash looked up. Even in the darkness, he could see that a bird—an eagle?—was flying away.

He frowned. For her to say that now, when every word was taxing, the message must be important. Crucial. Bash saw tears at the corners of her eyes.

Dammit. What could he do? He’d never felt this hopeless.

The wind picked up in the south, and loud, high-pitched screams came from the Institute. He glanced at the building and found it wrapped in darkness. Fast-moving darkness. Frowning and focusing on the shadows, he saw wings. Hundreds and hundreds of black wings.

The ravens used as messengers in Oldcrest.

All eyes went to Chloe, who was focusing on the eagle, her bright blue eyes narrowed in on her target.

No one was surprised when she dissolved into mist a moment later, her body and soul syncing with her beasts. Her familiars.

No raven could outrun a bird of prey, or would ever attack one. Right now, the ravens were Chloe Eirikrson.

She flew through the sky as fast as any storm, and the next cry piercing the night belonged to the poor eagle.

Bash winced on its behalf.

The ravens returned to the hill in a cloud of shadow, and Chloe reappeared in front of them, holding the brown and white bird carefully but firmly.

Cat almost collapsed against Bash. He wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting her as she stood.

“There, there, beautiful thing,” Chloe murmured, her voice a soft caress so very soft.

Her tone had changed, soft as silk, sweet as honeysuckle.

Bash immediately felt like stepping closer, asking how he could be of assistance.

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