Page 61 of The Demon's Fire
“You’ve seen them. Better the bone of a dead questing beast than running into a live one.” Kole set his gaze on the sun sinking lower in the sky.
“How long do you think it will take us?” Skyler shielded her eyes.
“Depends on what we run into.”
She stuck her chin out, a trait he was beginning to like, and said with a wicked grin, “What could possibly happen?”
Kole laughed. “Yeah. What could possibly happen? We’re going to walk faster now. Jogging when we can. The area is pretty wide open, making us wilding bait.”
“Okay. Let’s go.”
They began at a slow jog. After a while, Kole turned around. Skyler lagged behind, having trouble with the uneven terrain. When he paused, she stopped, bent, and put her hands on her knees, breathing heavily. “Keep going. I’ll make it.”
“Hell you will. I could carry you for a while.”
“Are you kidding? No. We can’t afford to have you get tired. I’ll make it. I promise I won’t let you down.”
“Frisca.” Kole cupped her chin, staring into her blue eyes. “I never thought you would.”
She backed away, propping her hands to her hips. “Really? I almost got literally fucked at the Genesis Rite. I got smashed at a dinner in my honor. Of course we’re on this abominable realm because I insisted on it. I nearly got a husband at the Yeti camp. Just what about me warrants your confidence? Admittedly, I can draw up one hell of a trade agreement, run a legal office, set other lawyers quivering in their Gucci shoes, and bark orders at my employees. Let’s face it, though. Other than that, I’m pretty dismal. I’m surprised you haven’t ditched me.”
“I’ll never ditch you, Frisca. What are a few mistakes anyway? Nobody’s perfect. I think your successes speak for themselves.”
She cleared her throat, her eyes moist. “Thank you. What’s a Frisca, by the way?”
“It’s demonish for … um … little one.”
“I’m not very little.”
He liked her height. She could snuggle in right under his chin. “To me you are. Come on, let’s move.”
“Okay. Onward. Upward. I’m through feeling sorry for myself … for us. Try to keep up with me, Commander.” Skyler took off, jogging ahead, taking the lead, her backpack bouncing.
When they were nearly three quarters of the way to the Sardasian Stones, athwump,thwump, thwumpsound carried to Kole’s ears.
He yelled, “Get down.” Pushing Skyler flat against the grass, he threw his body on top of her. A squadron of gigantic, black birds with human-like female heads flew into view. In V formation, they soared overhead, the light fading when they blocked the sun.
Sharp, crooked, taloned feet hung below the low-flying creatures with faces of ugly hags. The flapping of their wings sent a fierce wind across the plains, ruffling the grasses, spreading the wildings’ distinctive odor. Rotting flesh. Just as they had nearly passed, the last two-winged monsters turned their heads and sniffed the air.
“Fuck,” said Kole. “I think they got a whiff of us.”
“What are they?”
“Harpies.” He searched the terrain for a plan. He spotted one. “Quick now. Crawl over to those bushes. We’ll hide in them until they leave. Be careful of the leaves on the kas nettle. They can sting. But a little pain is better than the feathered hags’ teeth or claws.”
Kole rolled off Skyler, giving her space to hand-and-knee it toward the shrubs. He followed her as she wriggled between two close plants. The fine hairs on the leaves were already stinging his bare skin.
But the harpies would never catch their scent as long as they stayed here. Kas nettle camouflaged their odor, and the flying predators relied on their sense of smell. It was better than their eyesight.
Skyler groaned, but Kole clasped a hand over her mouth. Catching her eye, he shook his head. They couldn’t risk a noise reaching the harpies now that they were close. Their sense of hearing was only slightly less acute than their ability to smell.
Kole listened to thethwump, thwump, thwumpof their wings, accompanied by their shrew-like screeches as they searched the grasslands for prey. They circled and circled, a single scout flying low, her shrieks so close by Kole was sure she’d sighted them. Before the sun sank lower in the sky, the female wildings moved on, the wind created by the flapping wings decreasing while their distance increased. When their harsh cries died out, Kole scooted from the bushes. He pulled Skyler out by her feet.
Demon sparks shot from his fingers. Skyler’s hands and neck were covered with fine stingers from the kas nettle. A few had burrowed into her cheek. Where they contacted skin, she developed a bright red rash.
Her lashes rolled up. She stared at Kole. “I was quiet.”
“You were, Frisca.” Kole contained his fire. Extracting the hairy stickers was his priority. But his fingers were so large. Nonetheless, he removed each from her face, then neck, and finally her hands.
