Page 52 of Enchanted Warrior

“I don’t know. I never had a chance to speak to the previous occupant of the castle. He had the wits to move out when he heard me coming.”

Gawain tried to guess when that might have been. Long enough for the dirt and dead leaves to make drifts in the empty rooms.

“Now leave me the books and go,” the demon ordered. “Or try to go. I have a hard time making up my mind about uninvited guests. They can be such a crashing bore.”

The demon pointedly glanced out the window at the carnage below. “On the other hand, every so often they keep things interesting.”

Gawain’s mind raced. Their odds of survival were low enough that there was little to lose in a gamble. He picked up the spear. “I like interesting.” He jabbed the tip at the demon’s face. It might be a magical being, but as long as it wore flesh, it could be hurt.

It flinched back far enough that Gawain could push Tamsin toward the door. She scrambled forward, starting down the stairs with lightning speed. Gawain followed, dropping his guard in his haste to get Tamsin out of harm’s way. That was a mistake—the demon caught him with a backhand that sent him sprawling against the wall. He’d slung the heavy wooden shield across his back and it took the brunt of the blow, but the iron rim dug into the backs of his thighs. He staggered upright, pain surging up his body, and slashed with his weapon. The demon kept its distance, a slight smile on its lips.

Gawain really didn’t like that smile. Rather than pressing the attack, he edged toward the door and the sound of Tamsin’s steps clattering down the stairs. The demon feinted, and Gawain parried, drawing a thin line of blood from its palm. The demon’s blood turned black the moment the air touched it.

Finally, Gawain reached the doorway. The demon rushed him then, but Gawain had the spear ready, hovering just before the demon’s eyes as he descended the stairs backward two at a time. With a disgusted look, the demon slammed the door in his face. Not stopping to argue, Gawain turned and bounded down the steps to catch up to Tamsin.

She’d just about reached the bottom of the tower when he found her. A half-dozen steps separated her from the floor. A dozen more would take her to the courtyard. But she wasn’t moving another inch. The fae were on their feet again, though they were still unquestionably dead. Gawain halted on the step behind Tamsin, fighting the urge to simply stand and stare.

“Zombies,” she said in a cracked voice. “Faery zombies. That’s just—wrong.”

ChapterTwenty

Gawain wished he’d had a gold piece for every time he’d heard “wrong” when demons were involved. He’d have gilded armor for himselfandhis horse.

The fae were starting to drift toward them with slow, deliberate steps, effectively blocking the main door of the keep. They were eerily silent, the only sound the clink of armor or squish of ruined flesh. Worse, they looked hungry. Panic rose like a gibbering imp inside Gawain, but he slammed it down hard. Tamsin was counting on him, and surrender was not an option.

He slipped the shield off his back and slid his forearm through the grips. “Stay with me,” he said. “We’re going down the stairs and out the back of the keep. Keep running no matter what and look for a water gate. There should be another entrance to the castle grounds used to bring in supplies by boat.”

Tamsin gave a spastic nod and clutched her backpack more securely. The dead were close enough now to see their eyes. Already, the film of death was turning them to opaque, grayish marbles. Gawain’s stomach rolled. This kind of nonsense was exactly why everyone hated demons.

“Go!” he ordered.

Tamsin dashed. The zombies lurched forward, but not before Gawain vaulted from the last steps and stuck his spear through the throat of the first one. It barely slowed the thing down until he gave a savage twist that severed its spine. By then, three others had rushed to fill the gap. Gawain shoved the body, spear and all, into their path and drew his sword. Baring their teeth, the next wave trampled the fallen. Gawain slammed the shield into his closest foe and slashed the sword, aiming for heads. Two fell, but the third dropped to its knees and fastened its jaws on his calf. Gawain glanced down in disbelief. The fae was trying to gnaw through the leather of his high boot. With a cry of disgust, Gawain chopped off its head, shook away the remains and ran after Tamsin.

She had reached what looked like a guardroom. Gawain followed, slammed the door and pushed a heavy table against it.

“What now?” Tamsin asked. Her eyes were round with shock.

“Through the window,” Gawain replied, boosting her over the wide stone sill. A body hurled itself against the door, making the table squeak on the floor. “Then run for your life.”

He had exactly enough time to crawl after her before the walking dead smashed their way through the door. It seemed like miles across the grass to the stone wall that rimmed the edge of the moat. More faeries streamed from the courtyard in pursuit. Gawain saw a small gate in the distance but despaired of reaching it in time. The fae were gaining on them too fast.

They had gone halfway when Tamsin fell to her knees, gasping. Mordred had sucked away too much of her strength. “Let me carry you,” he said.

“Then how are you supposed to fight?” she panted, sitting back on her heels. Her eyes were fixed on the approaching enemy, her expression a mask of horror. “I’ll slow you down. It’s my turn to do something.”

“What?” Gawain gauged the number of seconds they had before the dead faeries were upon them. Not many.

“Help me up,” Tamsin said, struggling to her feet.

As he did, he saw a pale blue light pool in her hand. A fireball. He flinched, recognizing the same spell he’d learned as a child. The one he’d used to burn down the nursery. Memory burned in his blood.

“Stand back,” she ordered. “If I get this right, you owe me a glass of wine.”

Tamsin concentrated,digging the magic from deep inside her. Exhaustion made her power slow to come until, at what seemed like the last possible moment, she sent a ball of pale blue light hurtling into the pack of hungry dead. She squeezed her eyes shut, but she heard the impact like a cracking egg.

Tamsin opened her eyes to see something red raining from the air. Bile burned the back of her throat.

“Tamsin!” Gawain bellowed.

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