Page 152 of The Seeker
Rhys couldn’t contain his smirk. It was a stark moment of levity in an otherwise tense situation. “I wonder if any of the Fallen have become politicians.”
“It would not be a shocking revelation.”
The angel approached, eyeing the gathering of Tomir warriors, Irin scribes, and singers. Every one of them was frozen, ready and waiting for the signal. Bozidar had grown from an average human height to somewhere around eight feet tall. His human form slowly burned away. Clothing dissolved, revealing flesh marked by raisedtalesmthat radiated in the morning light. He was at once monstrous and beautiful in his heavenly visage.
He eyed the gathered warriors with disdain.
Rhys could still hear the cries and screams coming from the cane fields. Could feel the heady scent of magic flowing in the air as gold dust scattered in the breeze. Acrid smoke filled his nostrils.
But he, like all the warriors who lined the oak alley, was silent.
“Mongrel bitches,” Bozidar muttered as he passed a group of singers.
An arrow flew through the shadows, striking Bozidar directly in the throat. The angel took a single step back, glanced down, and roared.
Damien muttered, “And here we go.”
Arrows and spears flew through the air, bouncing off the angel and occasionally piercing his skin. He batted them away, pulled them out. They did nothing to him, nor did the warriors aiming them think they would. The goal was to kill time and allow Meera and Sari’s magic to build. The goal was to antagonize him until he lost his temper and loosed his true rage on his tormenters.
Which was why Rhys and Damien stood directly in the angel’s line of sight.
Damien lifted a shotgun and aimed it at the angel’s face. He shot once. Twice. Bozidar turned from batting away a spear to snarl at Damien.
“Sorry, Bozo! Was trying to improve your face,” Damien called.
Rhys aimed to be even more annoying. He grabbed a red laser pointer from his pocket and shone it directly in Bozidar’s eyes.
“A laser pointer?” Damien reloaded his shotgun.
“Have you ever tried giving a presentation with someone using these? I hate them. Hopefully he will too.”
The spears, arrows, and gunshots all came from the trees or from the front porch of the main house. Rhys and Damien were the only scribes in the path of the angel. Everyone else was attacking from the sides.
Bozidar narrowed his eyes on Rhys.
“Can I have the gun?” Rhys asked. “This laser pointer might have been a bad idea.”
“Pissing him offisthe idea.”
Bozidar reached down and picked up a giant concrete urn, growling before he hurled it at Rhys’s head.
He dived to the side and rolled. “Well, it’s working!”
“Somasikara.”Bozidar’s voice rumbled through the trees. “Where is she?”
“You’re really not her type,” Rhys shouted. “She generally prefers the nonmonstrous. Also, men with beards.”
“She’s picky that way,” Damien shouted. “Quite the diva.”
“Did you come for the Wolf?” Rhys shouted. “I win the bet, Damien. She said he’d be too afraid to come.”
“Well, she did kill Nalu.” Damien rolled closer to Bozidar and aimed up at the Fallen, shooting the monster in the groin. “And Bozidar is nothing to Nalu.”
Bozidar didn’t even pause. He reached down and grabbed Damien by the foot. He flipped the scribe over his head and tossed him to the ground, where Damien landed with a hard thud. “I do not fight dogs. Give me thesomasikara,and she will come to no harm. I will keep her as my mongrel pet.”
Red-hot rage rose in Rhys, along with a burning desire to kill the angel. Hate flooded through him, souring his mouth.
You cannot.
