Page 103 of Tethered In Blood

“Nia nin firn bodui,” I growled, thrusting my sword into the dock. Silver-blue light shot down the blade and branched across the damp wood in strokes of lightning. The thing wailed, a guttural, high-pitched scream that raked across my skin before it vanished. The mist recoiled with a violent, visceral retreat, hissing and writhing as it crackled with the blue light. Only the lingering, sour smell of rotting seawater and the acrid stench of decay permeated the air. The silence that followed was unnatural.

Garrick stood in front of Quinn, his hand still on her arm as he braced her front, his mouth agape, confused by what had happened. His eyes narrowed on me. There was no smirk on his lips. No teasing glint in his gaze.

“What the fuck was that?” he muttered, his voice quieter than usual. My mind was still racing, and my senses heightened. The mist receded toward the ocean, slinking away as though it had been wounded and retreating into the dark waters from which it had come.

“A warning.”

THEDIMROOMhelda single candle on the table that cast flickering shadows along the walls. The smell of roasted meat and herbs from the tavern lingered in the air, but it didn’t settle the constriction in my chest. We sat in silence, the events at the docks still preying on my mind.

Garrick had no problem cutting through the thick tension with his usual lack of grace. “So, was Vaelwick like that too?” he asked, muffled by the food he was still chewing.

My gaze flicked to Quinn. Her fingers brushed the edge of her journal, organizing her notes as if she were somewhere else. I averted my eyes.

“Something like that,” I muttered.

Garrick snorted. “Something like that? You mean to tell me you fought another mist-crawling, nightmare-breathing fucker and didn’t think to warn me?”

I shot him a glare. “I didn’t have the time to draft a letter, Garrick.”

He shrugged, tearing a piece of bread with his teeth. “Still. It would have been nice to know we were walking into whatever that was.” He gestured to the window with his bread. “You two have been incredibly cryptic.”

Quinn sighed, flipping another page in her journal. “The creature in Vaelwick was different,” she said. “That one was tethered to the fields. This one was more mobile. It chose its target.”

Her.

It choseher.

I swallowed the growl in my throat and flexed my fingers as I leaned back in my chair. Garrick wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Right. And it justhappenedto target you, Freckles?” He quirked a brow. “Like the thing in Vaelwick, I assume?”

Quinn went rigid for a moment. With a tight smile, she shook her head. “Probably just bad luck.”

Garrick hummed, unconvinced, and flicked his gaze in my direction. I gritted my teeth. It wasn’t bad luck, and she damn well knew it. Garrick propped his elbow on the table, rubbing his chin as he glanced between the two of us. “Alright,” he drawled, breaking the silence. “What happened in Vaelwick?”

I leaned back in my chair with a sigh. “What do you think happened?”

Garrick raised a brow. “Well, judging by the way she looks like she’s about to be sick, and you look ready to kill something, I’d say it wasn’t a pleasant stroll through the wheat fields.”

A wave of memories crashed into me. The way it slammed into us, sending Quinn barreling across the dirt, her body hitting the log with a thud, the frantic scramble. Running through the rotting wheat and woods as the ground lurched, bodies rose, each turning toward her. Ignoring me. How the thing in the field mimicked her scream.

How, for the first time in years, my chest seized.

Fear.

For her.

For the blood dripping from my hand, from her, warm and slick as I pulled her against me, as I tried to determine the severity of the wound. Fear for the way she reacted as her exhaustion and pain stole the fight out of her.

I forced myself to breathe while my fingers twitched against the grain of the table. Garrick’s smirk faltered. “Hey,” he said, gentler now. “I was just—”

“I don’t want to talk about Vaelwick,” Quinn cut in, her voice firm but quiet. Her hands trembled before she clenched them into fists.

Garrick’s brows furrowed. His usual teasing demeanor dropped. His gaze flickered to me, waiting for an explanation. I pushed my tongue against the inside of my teeth and sighed. “It was worse than this,” I muttered. “Much worse.”

Quinn swallowed hard, shoving her chair back as she stood. “I need air.”

Garrick stared after her until the door closed, then returned to me. “What happened to her, Sinclaire?”

GARRICKECHOEDMEindisbelief, “Necromancy?”

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