Page 148 of The Seeker
Grigori are here. The Fallen is coming.
Singers and scribes spread through the haven, running along the boundaries and watching the footpaths.
“The fields,” Patiala told her mate. “They will come through the cane fields where they can remain hidden.”
“The river—”
“Watch the road.” She spread her hands over the map of the property. “The Fallen might come from the road. But the Grigori are cowards. They’ll come through the fields.”
Meera dressed in linen,the loose pants and shirt the easiest wardrobe for practicing magic. She wore no weapons, though her mate had many. Her battle would not be fought with blades but with magic.
Sari sat next to her, meditating before the fire.
“Have you fought an angel before?” Meera asked.
“Not directly, but you have.”
Meera frowned. “I haven’t.”
Sari turned to her. “Somasikara, you have. You have fought, and you have won.”
She nodded, knowing what Sari was trying to say. “I only find that a little reassuring.”
“The hardest part isn’t going to be killing this angel. The hard part is going to be letting him hurt our mates.”
“I know.”
Rhys and Damienbound their weapons to their bodies, theirtalesmalive and pulsing with power. Both had shared magic with their mates that morning. Both were redolent with innate and shared magic.
“Missing your black blade?” Rhys asked.
Damien gave him a grim smile. “This will be quite unlike any other battle we’ve fought. I don’t think a black blade would even work against him.”
“Do we have any idea what Bozidar’s power is?”
“Sight.”
“So he might have seen this coming?”
“It’s possible.”
“We have to provoke him. None of this works unless he is provoked.”
Damien slapped Rhys on the shoulder. “He’s an arrogant archangel who calls himself the gift of heaven. And you’re you. Provoking him should be the easy part.”
The young Grigoristole through the cane fields, tripping over his own feet, rising, running. He gave no thought to snakes or the usual dangers in the dense cane. He only knew that it had been days since the prostitute had fed him, and he was voracious. His father had said there was a rich feasting waiting for all of them, but the Grigori knew Bozidar had been talking to him. Others were there, but his father loved him the most.
The feast is waiting for you. The sweet souls of the Irina will fill you to the brim.
It was all he thought of. All he wanted. He could see lights and trees in the distance. The haven was close. He could smell them.
They would be his.
The trip wire caught him unawares. He planted face-first in the mud, caught in the tangled net of tall grass. He didn’t feel the pierce of the silver blade at the back of his neck.
His death came too quickly for him to feel anything.
Roch killed the Grigori,releasing his soul, only to find three more soldiers piling on top of him. They were running like rats through the wet, green fields.
