Page 95 of Guardians of the Assassins
She licked her lips, as if Morgan were a tasty lobster. Her jaw unhinged, opening unnaturally wide, saliva leaking out in a long string, and a guttural groan escaped her. “I’m hungry.”
The deep sound of her voice resonated in the air, the raspy words a hiss.
And a command.
Hundreds of spiders charged forward all at once.
Caedmon brought up his sword, while Atlas pulled two knives, but they were severely outnumbered. Even with all their battle experiences, they wouldn’t be able to win. The metal cuffs around her wrists warmed, clearly eager for the fight, but it wouldn’t be enough. She wanted to call her magic, but she was mindful of Atlas’s warning.
“I can rip open a portal and push her through.” Morgan kicked one of the spiders when it got a little too close. It soared through the air with a screech…only to have two more spiders take its place. She stomped, shuddering when they squished then popped like melons being crushed, green goo splattering everywhere.
“We can’t risk it. Your magic doesn’t come from Faerie, and anything else can be a bit unpredictable,” Caedmon warned, slashing his sword through five spiders at once. Four of them dropped dead, while one lost half of his legs. It didn’t slow it down, the creature pulling its body forward, his abdomen dipping and swaying like the critter was drunk.
“Then what do you suggest?” Before he could answer, the chain around her neck twisted and spun, the metal stretchinguntil a bow formed. Instead of an arrow, a sword rested against the bowstring.
While she could create a sword, Morgan knew the weapon represented her fae warrior.
“How good are you with that thing?” Morgan gestured toward Caedmon’s sword, watching him move like the blade was a part of his body.
He gazed at her for a moment, then nodded. “Whatever you need.”
“Be ready.” She turned, summoned the bow, and lifted her arm at the same time. She drew back the string, and a black arrow swirled into existence. One after another, she released the arrows. Mirasole managed to knock the first one away with one of her many legs, then the spiders began to jump in the path of the arrows, spearing themselves to block each shot.
Half of the spider army began to charge toward Morgan with an angry hiss.
Knowing she didn’t have much time, she drew back the bowstrings, releasing the arrows faster and faster, until the spiders couldn’t keep up. “Now!”
She dropped the bow and called her blades, even as she charged forward. Magic heated in her veins, giving her a boost of speed, and she launched herself in the air.
Mirasole barely had time to knock the last arrow away before Morgan slammed into her. Even as they tumbled toward the ground, Morgan slashed with her blades, barely able to keep up as the spiders tried to make a pincushion out of her with those damned freaky legs.
They slammed into the ground with a heavy thud, Morgan landing on the bottom. Only when it was too late did Morgan notice that Mirasole had coated her with a sticky liquid that seemed to ooze out through her spider legs, and she found herself pinned to the ground on her back.
Eight spider legs thumped into the ground around her, and Mirasole pushed herself up until she hovered in the air over her. Rage darkened Mirasole’s face when she touched the dozen or sowounds on her body, then she locked those creepy black eyes on her and hissed. “Did you really think you would win?”
Mirasole leaned down, saliva dripping from her mouth, a ghastly smile stretching her lips. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
Saliva dribbled against her bare skin, and Morgan gritted her teeth when it burned like her skin was being peeled away from her flesh. She called for her magic, but it answered sluggishly.
Warm breath brushed against her neck when a movement above them caught her attention.
Caedmon!
He soared through the air, his sword raised high. Even as he landed, he lowered the blade.
With a clean strike, he cleaved Mirasole’s head from her body.
Morgan twisted to the side as much as her sticky clothes allowed and barely missed having the skull crack into her face. The rest of Mirasole’s body swayed dangerously, her spider-like legs wobbling like stilts. Atlas crouched near her head, shoved his hands under her shoulders, then heaved back with all his might. He barely managed to pull her free in time before the rest of the body crumpled to the ground right where she’d been, the spider’s legs snapping like matchsticks.
Cradled in Atlas’s arms, she watched as spiders dropped to the ground around them, horrible screams of agony piercing the air. It was like they no longer had any control over their bodies as they lay twitching on the ground. Some tried to drag themselves away, but they didn’t make it more than a few feet before they collapsed.
It was over in minutes.
Everything around them stilled, piles of spiders laid scattered in heaps around them.
Caedmon knelt in front of her and gently tilted her head to the side, lightly tracing a finger down the side of her throat. “Minor burns. They’re already healing, but I want to get you cleaned up.”
He didn’t wait for a reply, just scooped her up in his armsand walked toward the biggest house in the village. She shuddered when the spiders scrunched under his boots, but he didn’t once waver or slow.
