Page 105 of Fires of the Forsaken
“Well, yeah, I guess sweet blood would taste pretty darn good. It’s notrealsugar, though,” I added. “We Americans love chemicals. And we put fake shit ineverything. It’ll upset your stomach—” I bit off with a squeal as the horse reached my side and pressed its muzzle to my shoulder.
But instead of biting me, it sniffed noisily, fanning its metallic-scented breath across my face. I held my chest still, praying the Púca wasn’t searching for a good artery to drink from.
The Púca backed away, lowering its head. And the way it looked at me, with its intelligent red eye meandering over my face…
Itseerilyintelligent eye.
“Wait,” I squinted. “Iknowyou.”
Crazy, right? The horse looked identical to all the other Púcas. But now I was 100% certain this was the Púca who’d done the backflip a few minutes ago.
And I was 99% sure this was the Púca I’d freed when I first arrived in Sakar. The one who’d stalked me.
“Well,” I murmured, “I guess we’re even now, huh? A life for a life, right?”
In response, the horse bellowed, ears flattening, and bolted away.
Although that might’ve had less to do with what I’d said, and more to do with the knife Cheriour had chucked.
“Why do youinsiston tempting the Púcas?” he asked as he came to a halt beside me. He was horseless now and had a big ole slash wound across his back.
“I-it killed its rider,” I said.
“They’ve been known to do that.”
“But—”
Cheriour snatched my arm, yanking me out of the way of a galloping hellhound. “Did the Púca bite you?” he asked as he swiftly killed the dog.
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive! I-I think…” Oh, it would soundstupidif I said it out loud.I think the poisonous horse killed its rider, and another Púcaandanother Wraith because it was protecting me.
“Addie. You need tofocus.”Cheriour pulled me behind him and hurled a knife at another hellhound. And then he shouted, “Ethan!”
A gray-bearded man staggered into us, wiping his bloodied hair out of his eyes.
Wait.
That was hisskin.The dude had been scalped.Almost. It wasn’t a very clean job, considering he now had a flap of skin dangling over his face.
“Head to the castle,” Cheriour said.
“But—” Ethan started.
“You’re not fit to fight,” Cheriour’s voice was quiet but firm.
Ethan swayed, his face ashen. The gooey chunk of scalp flopped over his eyes. He’d never make it to the castle. The building was a mile away. At least. This guy would be lucky if he made it ten feet without fainting.
“I’ll go with you,” I said. “To the castle. I’ll make sure you get there in one piece. This is something I can do,” I added when Cheriour looked at me. “I’m a shit fighter, but I’ve got the defense thing down. Kinda. I can help him. Be a human shield, y’know?”
Cheriour nodded. “Maddox is—” he stopped, plucked a teensy knife out of his chest holster, and flung it across the field. There was a hollowurghas the blade hit a Wraith’s chest. “Maddox is a Healer. He’ll be waiting at the castle. Bring as many wounded to him as you can. But movequickly.” He threw another knife.
He was so stinking casual about this.“Oh yes, I can have a full conversation while killing monsters. And you thought I couldn’t multitask…”
“Addie!”
