Page 84 of Night Fae
Knox shouted something, voice distant and muffled.
A warning, maybe.
Zev would heed it.Later.
For now, he needed to make Andras pay. For all the pain he'd caused Zev. For all the pain he'd caused Rhys.
Howdarehe lay a finger on what was Zev's?
Mist closed in around them almost as if it had a will of its own, wrapping around Zev like a shroud. Andras's form blurred, then split—doubling, tripling, multiplying until a ring of identical figures surrounded him.
Zev spun.
What was this?
A trap.
The path back to the others had vanished, swallowed by the hungry mist of the Fields.
He clutched the amulet at his throat, trying to clear his vision, but the pendant felt cold now, its protection weakened by his emotional outburst.
Damn it all.
The Andrases around him laughed, an ugly, echoing sound.
Zev slashed through all of them.
They vanished into mist, leaving him to stand there by himself, breathing hard, blood dripping from his wounds. He turned, trying to catch sight of the others, but it was hopeless.
"Knox?" he called. "Daniel?"
No answer. Just the soft sigh of thick fog sliding over silver grass.
There was nothing for it; he had to start walking.
He tried to retrace his steps, but they didn't lead him back where he'd come from. Instead, the mist seemed to stretch out forever in all directions.
But Zev wasn't about to give up.
He was not going to get lost here. He had to push through. He had to?—
The mist parted, revealing a small clearing. In its center stood a tree—ancient, gnarled, stretching toward the sky. Zev froze, recognition washing over him like ice water.
This tree. He knew this tree.
It had been their meeting place. Their secret sanctuary when stolen moments were all they could have.
As if summoned by the thought, a figure stepped from behind the tree. Tall, broad-shouldered, with tawny hair that caught the strange light of the Fields. Brown eyes that still held warmth despite everything they had seen.
Rhys.
The werewolf smiled—that same mischievous smile that had undone Zev so many times before.
"You're late," Rhys said, scolding him softly as he had so often. "I've been waiting for you."
Zev's sword trembled in his hand. "You're not real."
Rhys cocked his head, regarding Zev with fond exasperation. "Does it matter?"
