Page 58 of Samhain Savior
But I wasn’t going to get it, because when we emerged at the bottom of the steps it wasn’t peace that greeted us but pure pandemonium.
Chapter twenty-five
Delilah
“Fuck.”
Archer cursed under his breath, drawing back on his bow string and loosing an arrow, the shaft wreathed in shadow. I watched as it streaked across the church, but before it could sink into its target—one of the witches, a man with a balding head and cheeks full of pockmarks—he turned, waving a hand and the shaft flipped end over end, away from the witch and sticking into the wooden wall with a heavy thud.
The witch laughed manically, ducking behind one of the box pews and out of sight.
Across the room from our position, Corson was engaged with two of the witches, his twin shortswords ablur of motion as he parried their magical attacks. One witch thrust out a hand, a burst of purple energy crackling toward Corson, but he crossed the blades and blocked it, the magic dispersing in a shower of sparks.
Closer to where we stood, Vine had positioned himself between Persephone and a tall witch with a horrid scar across half her face, his flaming spear leaving trails of fire in its wake as he used it to defend against the witch. As she swiped at him with her magic, he spun the spear like a baton, laughing with each blocked attack.
“Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted, tossing the spear from one hand to the other in a complex move that was difficult to follow. “I guess the Order will just let any pathetic hag in these days.” She snarled, then doubled her efforts to no avail.
My heart leapt to my throat when I realized I couldn’t see Mal, but my fears were soon alleviated when his large black raven swooped down from the balcony overhead, his razor-sharp talons extended as he dove at the witches, forcing them to duck and scatter.
Near the door, a large man stood, his thick arms wreathed in tattoos. He took in the scene, not engaging, his eyes wide as he watched his comrades fight. Suddenly, Mal streaked toward him, his cry loud as he made to carve out the man’s eyes.
That was apparently too much for the witch who had yet to use his power. He turned and ran, the door banging loudly in the wind behind him.
“Stay behind me, witch,” Archer groused my way, releasing another arrow, this one finding a home in one of the witches that Corson was fighting with. She let out a scream, clutching her arm through her dark robes. Staring in horror, I watched as the shadows that had wrapped the shaft began to spread, creeping up her arm like a thick, black ichor. Moving from her arm and up over her neck, the liquid shadows engulfed her face, her screams increasing as it actually began to creep its way into her open mouth and down her throat. The sound was finally cut off when she collapsed to the floor, choking on Archer’s shadows and clawing desperately at her neck. Her nails dug long, bloody rivets into her own flesh, as though she was attempting to remove the obstruction from the outside.
After several long, revolting minutes, she stilled, her open eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling above.
The remaining four witches all froze, gaping at their dead comrade, not in shock but contemplation, as though they were assessing her failure and calculating how to avoid the same mistakes themselves.
The scarred one looked up, her pale blue eyes staring at Archer with contempt.
“Demon,” she hissed, the word falling from her mouth like a curse. “Still messing in the affairs of others, are you?”
“And you’re still playing lap dog to traitors, aren’t you Helena.”
I felt my eyebrows rise in surprise. He knew this woman? A member of the Order of the Broken Veil, the coven that had been chasing me my entire life, and Archer was on a first name basis with her?
Traitor. The word whispered in my mind, taunting and full of malice.He was always against you. Trying to take it from you. Don’t let him.
Holding the bulb tighter, I moved slowly, backing away from Archer as quietly as I could.
I had begun to feel safe with these people, comforted by Vine’s light-hearted humor, Corson’s commanding presence, and Mal’s vulnerable strength.
I swallowed, thinking of how I had even begun to soften to Archer, his stubborn possessiveness setting off something inside me that I hadn’t ever imagined I could feel.
Dangerous. Feeling anything for these men was dangerous, but feeling what I might have started to feel for Archer was clearly the most dangerous of all.
I need to get away. I needed to protect myself and the relic, just the way Heidi had taught me, and that started with getting out of this church alive.
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Helena explained simply, her long graying hair hanging in her face where it had fallen out if its braid.
“Storm-bringer isnotyour friend,” Archer warned, his arrow still notched and ready, trained on Helena.
“But he isyourenemy.”
“Leave this place,” Archer commanded. The others remained standing guard, Mal still protecting them all from above, his dark raven body standing out against the stark white of his balcony perch.
Outside, the storm raged on, the heavy winds pushing the rain against the windows, rattling them violently.
