Page 40 of Heart of Dawn
Thinking of her poked the hot coals of my rage. No one or nothing got to touch him.
Ever.
“Fucker,” I grunted, picking up my pace after the cookie scent.
Soon I’d wrap Ori in my own brand of cotton wool to shield him from every evil thing. Or try to. He’d probably tell me off for doing so.
What can I say? I liked playing hero, especially with him.
Both Basil’s scent and the metallic stink of blood magic intensified as we moved deeper into the western part of the forest. The trees thinned until we reached a clearing with a small house, its roof partially collapsed.
There was zero trace of Lance on the air, but it reeked of cookies to the point of a sugar rush.
“Be careful,” Daria whispered, pointing out a set of glowing red runes on the ground.
They ran the entire perimeter of the clearing.
“How do we clear these?” I asked.
Daria’s eyes narrowed, her fangs bared. “The spider waits for its web to be triggered.” She pointed back to the trees. “Find somewhere to hide.”
I didn’t question the vampire. Judging by her expression, she had a plan. So, I followed it, taking cover behind a tree with Joe still on my back.
The sounds of the horde were still sufficiently far away for now. We had time.
Daria stalked the edge of the runes, her eyes on the house. Back and forth, back and forth, a panther waiting to strike. The house stayed quiet, no hints of life from sounds to visuals, only the smell of bodies and blood. Wooden boards covered every window and the front door, the glow of red runes on the knotted wood.
Daria stopped pacing, then crouched. After more staring at the house, she rolled onto her back, flinging her arm out to lay across the runes. Immediately, a circle of shimmering red light pulsed around the clearing, quickly evaporating. A stronger scent of blood hit me, its iron taint reaching my tastebuds.
Gross.
The vamp twitched a couple of times, her mouth slack, eyes wide and unblinking. I couldn’t tell if she was acting or if the runes had really fucked her up. But I trusted in whatever plan she’d put in place.
Kind of.
Commotion followed. Voices, footsteps, the wordvampire.
A woman appeared, dressed in red robes, her pale bald head covered in swirly, red tattoos. Gingerly, with the crimson mist of her blood magic dancing around her bleeding fingers, she approached Daria.
A man joined her, mirroring her stance, sporting similar tattoos, skin tone, and bald head.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Vampire,” the woman responded, licking her bloodied lips.
“Is it dead?”
She shook her head, her cautious strides growing in confidence.
“What does it want?”
“How do I know?”
The man hurried to her side. “Be careful.”
She elbowed him. “I’m always careful.”
“We’ve lost too many…” He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I don’t want to lose you.”
