Page 124 of Balance
“You’re not a nice person when Bianca isn’t around,” I complained, addressing Julian. “Actually, you’re kind of an asshole.”
“I noticed that too.” Titus didn’t even look up.
Julian shrugged, his dark features carefully blank. “You curse more when she’s gone,” was his only rebuttal.
I pursed my lips. He wasn’t wrong.
The Snallygaster was still unmoved, so we would probably be okay, usually they came back to life at this point. And it didn’t look like the Snallygaster was—
Just as the thought crossed my mind, one of the giant legs twitched.
Motherfucker.
I glanced to the dragon. “Titus?” We didn’t have time for this. Bianca and Miles were still missing, and even though they were alive, every passing hour left them alone and vulnerable to the elements.
“It’s not the same as last time.” Titus kicked at the head, and the creature stopped twitching. “It’ll probably come back again though.”
“It’s not a normal creature. I don’t even think it’s alive. There’s witchcraft all over that. Let’s just get out of here, put some distance between us before it wakes up again.” Julian had already put away his weapons and stepped past us. “If the only way to keep moving on is to chop off its head continuously, then we have no choice, but we should make ground while we have a chance.”
“Right.” That was a perfectly sane plan, and Titus could use the exercise. Hell, if this search was frustrating enough, and there was a high possibility it would be, I might even get a few hits in.
Nothing beats stress like good target practice.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Bianca
Stone
We’d spent the night at Kathleen’s, using a makeshift mattress of blankets for our bed. Still, it was better than the outdoors. Her home was quiet, and provided protection from the elements, as well as a cozy fire with the scent of lavender heavy in the air.
I eventually fell asleep despite not fully trusting her yet. There were various reasons for my wariness, including but not limited to the extremely suspicious way she constantly studied me.
I woke up some time later to the overpowering smell of bacon and eggs.
“Bacon?” Miles’s arms were crossed over the small oak table. He studied Kathleen as she stood near the hearth, cooking over an open fire. “Where did you get this?”
“I killed a pig,” she replied, shooting him a look of forced patience. “How else would I get it? I also have chickens.”
His lips thinned, attention turning to the contents of his drink. “I just hoped…”
“That there was an easy way to get back to civilization?” she interrupted, facing him and crossing her arms. She still wore black, and her hair was in a thick plait down her back. “I told you, Miles, it’s at least a four-hour walk back to the river—and that’s if you’re moving unhindered. You still have that leg slowing you down. You’re lucky I had oregano left, the next harvest won’t be ready for a while. Your face, though, will scar.”
I clenched the blanket more tightly over my lower face, my heart thundering. That’s what I had assumed might—but hoped wouldn’t—happen.
“It’s okay,” Miles mumbled, gingerly touching his face. “It was worth it. What about you? You should really see a doctor.”
“Was it worth it?” she asked, avoiding Miles’s question. She didn’t seem overly curious about how he’d gotten it; they must have been talking for a while. What else did I miss?
“Kathleen,” Miles ventured, lowering his hand and closing it back around his cup, “that grove we were in—the witch’s circle that surrounds this whole area. That’s all yours? This is super-advanced magic; how do you have the strength for this?”
I pressed my fingers to my mouth, hope swelling in my chest. Those were the questions I’d been wanting to ask the night before but chickened out. I hadn’t wanted to accuse, or to upset Miles—since he seemed happy to see the older witch.
I’d been stressed that it was just me and hoping that he’d noticed it too. I wasn’t certain how to say anything against this sort of bond.
“It is,” she said, turning back to the cast iron. “I like my privacy. Outside of this, I’ve also set up other deterrents to prevent trespassers. Although, it doesn’t really do much for witches and fae. Thankfully,” she added, quickly glancing at me. “The fae don’t roam these woods. They tend to be supercilious.”
“What is it?” Miles asked, curious and not at all perturbed at her veiled insult.
