Page 37 of Soulbound
“Can you feel that?” came her thought-whisper.
If he focused, there was a new itch afflicting her, this one curling dread through her.
“Feel what?” he tried to send back.
“My sense of premonition just started tingling down my arms and spine, and I don’t think it means something good is coming this way.”
Fog eddied around them in the night, thick tendrils of it seeming to creep out of the nearest lane. He scanned the quiet fields, stepping back and reaching for the knife Bishop had given him.
"It’s too quiet here," Cleo murmured.
As if in answer, something scuttled over gravel, like claws.
"Quiet’s good," Cleo squeaked, backing into him.
He stepped between her and whatever was hidden in the fog, hands held loosely at his sides as he opened himself to the pool of power deep within him.
By himself, he might have faced whatever was watching them, but not with Cleo here. Indecision gripped him. Stay and call for help? Or flee into the fog, and hope they came across Verity and Bishop?
Neither of them was truly trained in the art of sorcery.
His mother never wanted him to have control of the immense power he could wield, and Cleo’s father considered it more important for her to dedicate her focus toward her tremendous gifts of divination.
Sebastian lifted his hand to the sky, summoning a mage globe of pure red with a word of power. He flung it into the sky, forcing pressure through the globe, the way Bishop had taught him.
The globe exploded, somewhat like the fireworks. In the quiet laneway it set the dogs off again, loud barking echoing through the neighborhood. A lantern blinked to life in a neighboring farmhouse and someone called out, "Shut up!"
"There’s something behind us." Cleo spun, pressing her back to his. "I heard it in the dark."
Coppery eyes began to gleam in the shadows of the fog. All of Sebastian’s blood ran cold. An imp. His mother had begun summoning them months ago, but they worked for the demon now.
"We need to get moving," he said, staring at the imp as it slowly materialized, creeping out of the fog on all fours, its tail slowly lashing behind it.
Where there was one, there were bound to be others.
Taking Cleo by the hand, he urged her in the direction Bishop and Verity had vanished in. Fog seemed to be rolling in across the fields now, gleaming pale beneath the moonlight. The only clear patch was the laneway they were in, and as they ran into the soft edges of the fog, it wisped away from them. Someone was clearly controlling it.
"Stop!" Cleo hauled suddenly on his grip. "We're not alone."
Summoning his power, he formed a ward that cascaded over them in a shimmering dome. It slammed into the dirt, and the fog within it evaporated as if summoned by sorcery. Nothing could get in or out, unless whatever was out there destroyed his ward. Some sorcerers could do that, Bishop had told him.
And there was definitely a sorcerer out there. Imps couldn't work magic.
"Safe for the moment," he whispered.
"But trapped," Cleo replied, her pulse pounding visibly in her throat. "Do you think Bishop will have seen your beacon? He won't think it merely another firework, will he?"
"Bishop's remarkably aware of his surroundings." Not surprising, considering the man was an assassin.
Cleo cleared her throat. "But if he's distracted...."
"I'll say this for the bastard... it would take a lot to distract him when we're in an unsafe area."
"Verity could do it," she pointed out.
He didn't let himself think of that. The situation vexed him. He'd never needed to rely upon others before. But with Cleo here, he couldn't simply launch a full-scale telekinetic assault upon whatever was out there. Not and maintain a ward to protect her.
"Are any of your powers offensive?" he demanded.
