Page 36 of Fae Divided
The discovery of the Dádhe race in Europe and the subsequent twenty-five years of war quashed any roads a pre-Civil War America might have traveled toward gun control. As a result, the vast majority of Untouched society were proficient marksmen who erroneously believed carrying a gun would provide adequate protection against a race that could move faster than any bullet.
“We aren’t facing humans.”
“I can guard your back.”
“Sarah—”
“Samuel,” she said, laying a gentle hand on his forearm to gain his undivided attention. “I know my limitations and won’t do anything to endanger the team. Please don’t ask me to stay behind and wait while my friends and family risk their lives to savemytruemate.”
“You’ll keep your distance?”
“I swear it.”
“Don’t make me regret this decision.” Her brother retrieved a spare magazine from his cargo pants and handed it to her. “And don’t engage unless you’re given no other alternative.”
“I won’t.”
“James is going to be furious with both of us.” He headed to the small group of Fae Touched waiting on the edge of the field that separated them from the rebel’s farmhouse.
“He’ll understand why I had to come.” Probably. She stuck the extra rounds in the rear pocket of her jeans, turning aside to hide the uncertainty in her expression from Samuel. “And why you allowed it.”
“Doubtful.” He didn’t sound overly worried. As Sarah’s Alpha—and in the absence of a mate’s verbal protest—it was Samuel’s call to make.
“Sarah, I thought you were waiting in the vehicle,” Carter Jenkins said at her approach, pausing in the process of securing his shoulder-length, brown hair into a high-set bun. The slender male was the ESC’s public face of all things species-related—and an experienced battle witch.
Jenkins’ raised elbows along with the cut of his t-shirt showcased the sleeve of white tattoos displayed on his defined biceps and the back of his hands, but the indelible symbols required to cast electricity on both forearms were what drew Sarah’s attention.
Every adult Anwyll routinely acquired the sole offensive spell available to their race’s civilians. But it was the specialized ink exclusive to a small number of witches in conjunction with a modified incantation that morphed a modest electrical current into a deadly bolt of lightning. The unsung disparity in potency promoted the human misconception that Anwyll magic was relatively harmless.
“My sister will be joining us as backup.” Samuel’s tone brooked no argument.
It was voiced anyway—the source shocking no one.
“Mrs. Reed is a liability.” Prince Myles tapped the flat of his streamlined sword against his thigh, the polished blade catching reflections of moonlight. “She will wait here as originally planned.”
“I—” Sarah’s tongue seemed to grow in size, sticking to the roof of her mouth and making it impossible to speak. Maybe itwasa mistake to tag along.
“She’s going,” Jacob Tucker said in concert with his Alpha, Samuel’s beta having more reason than most for wanting the operation to go smoothly. His littermate would be in the line of fire.
Sarah wasn’t sure which had shocked her more: the prince disclosing her beta had a twin, and his last name wasn’t Tucker or that in all likelihood, a purebred Fae was leading the rebellion. It seemed that James had managed to gather a lot of information in the three and a half months spent undercover. One reveal was devastating on a personal level to someone Sarah cared about, while the other had the potential for mass destruction on a global scale. She’d sworn an oath to take both secrets to the grave—along with everything concerning James’ mission.
“Your Ca’anam would want you somewhere safe, Sarah,” Jenkins said, eyebrows drawing together. “And so would Rose.”
“I know.” She holstered her gun and raised her chin. “I’m going anyway.”
The Anwyll’s hands went to his narrow hips, surveying the expanse the party of four—five now—would have to traverse to reach their destination. “You’ll walk with me then. I’ll stretch my protective shield to cover us during the crossing.”
“Thank you.”
“Let’s move,” Samuel ordered.
Jenkins held out his hand and Sarah took it. His dark clothing hid the light from the activated tattoo she knew was inked low on his abdomen, but she heard the invocation and felt the kiss of Anwyll magic on her skin as the transparent shield was formed. “Stay behind me.”
Tucker and her brother led the way, Jenkins followed. The prince took the rear.
The group silently moved with enhanced speed through the tall grass. Multiple elite tattoos provided the battle witch with the same stealth and quickness as his naturally gifted teammates. The rune on Jenkins’ scalp glowed dimly beneath the dense knot of his hair, the spell said to elevate his night vision to Dádhe status.
Samuel called a halt on the fringe of the rebel’s property, signaling the queen’s liaison and the prince with an upraised hand. The Anwyll released Sarah, dismissing the magical shield with a low murmur. The two males darted ahead, passing a rusty silo and making a beeline to the repurposed barn James had reported housed the outcast pack. Once outside the door, the vampire held up five fingers, made a fist, and then raised three more. Eight heartbeats inside. He placed his palm over his eyes. Dragged it to his chin. All were asleep.
