Page 62 of Curse of Darkness
Grabbing the oars, Finn set himself to rowing. “I knew that fucking bitch couldn’t be trusted.” A snarl curls his lip. “It’s a trap. The entire fucking thing is a trap.”
“By who?”
“Lucere!” he snarls.
“You think Lucere set this?”
“I think she was the only one—outside of the five of us—who knew where we were going.”
“Blaedwyn might have sent someone to follow—”
“She wouldn’t have had time to set this up.”
He still hasn’t said what we’re facing. “Setwhatup?”
“The first thing you hear are the drums,” he says grimly. “The second thing you know is a shadowy figure stretching over you. You hear their shrieks in your ears. You feel your breath catching in your lungs as if it’s freezing, until your veins will barely pump blood through your veins. They’re hunting. Hunting us.”
“Mother of Darkness, Finn!Who?”
“Thesluagh na marbhin the old tongue. The host of the dead.”
The hairs down my arms rise.
The host of the dead.
Ruled over by Malakhai of the Black Reaches.
Souls torn from the dead and forged into monstrous beings. They’re the sort of tale you don’t hear about in Seelie.
But everyone in Unseelie knows that when the host of the dead is hunting you, then there’s no point running.
“But why would he be here…?” It hits me then and my hand curls protectively around the locket with Thiago’s soul trapped within. No.No.
“Death searches for a way to combine all the pieces of its fragmented soul,” Finn says grimly. “And Malakhai wants power. With Thiago trapped within the Darkness, there was no means to get at him.”
But now, with his soul nestled safely in the locket, we just gave him the means.
A heated flush fills my cheeks. “If that son of a bitch dares try and harm him, I’ll fry him on the spot.”
Our eyes meet.
We’re a long way from the Hallow.
A long way from Evernight.
My power is weak, and these aren’t my lands.
“Can you row?” Finn demands, stringing his bow with swift fingers.
“I’ve got a better idea,” I tell him, shoving the oars toward him. “You row. I’ll shoot.”
“You won’t be able to nock my bow—”
“I won’t need to,” I tell him grimly, shifting onto my knees on the bench and summoning a bow made of pure fire.
It’s something Thiago insisted I work on in those brief few months where we had a chance to be together in Ceres.
The mist parts, and I catch a glimpse of a dark shadow flying overhead as Finn puts his back into the oars.
