Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 130619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Still struggling with the demon ash suffocating my lungs, I’m running on nothing but pure adrenaline. I’m all in with this stranger, blindly following him even as my grandfather punches into my mind again, and I can almost hear his voice as he says, Anyone who seems too good to be true usually is. I can’t afford to elevate my rescuer from stranger to hero. He’s a stranger. No more. No less. And for all I know, he’s just another variety of those demons that I will soon call enemy.
My fingers tighten around the star in my hand, but it offers cold comfort when the now familiar icy sensation slides down my spine in warning, and utter terror fills me. It’s him. Jeremy. I don’t know how I know how he feels, but I know. I open my mouth to scream, but it’s too late. We round the corner of the house, side-by-side and hand-in-hand, only to screech to a halt. Jeremy stands in front of us, between us and several snowmobiles, one of which I assume is meant to be our ride.
My stranger, once again, shoves me behind him. “Run!” he orders, releasing my hand to draw two handguns he unloads on Jeremy.
I don’t run, and not by choice. I simply can’t run, can’t move. My body is not my own, and neither is my mind. Bloody images of the women Jeremy killed seize me, cascading through my mind, paralyzing me, pain knifing through random parts of my body. My throat constricts. I can’t breathe. My legs crumple beneath me, and I’m a moment from falling to my knees when my stranger grabs me, snaking an arm around me, his hand branding my side, warming me where I’ve been cold. I don’t understand that sensation or any other right now. The ice slides away from my mind. I suck in a breath, my lungs contracting, my vision clearing.
Somehow, this man manages to hold me, sheltering me from the mental attacks, while still firing on Jeremy with his one free hand. And somehow, impossibly, Jeremy absorbs each bullet, his flesh ripping open only to re-form perfect skin the next moment.
The fingers at my waist flex and tighten. “At the count of three, I’m firing and you’re running the other way. I’ll catch up.”
“How? You have no way to fight him.”
“One,” he says, counting down and ignoring me, “two.” A short pause. “Three.”
“I won’t let you die for me. No, I—”
“Fucking run, Ember. Run!”
I have no idea why him saying my name, knowing my name, jolts me into action, but I obey. The instant he fires on Jeremy, I rotate out of his arms, turn the opposite direction, and gasp at what stands in my path.
Demons—monsters—whatever they are, have formed a line behind us and any path of escape. He steps to my side, curses, and then twists around to fire several additional shots at Jeremy. I plant my back against his back, the star digging into my palm, and wonder which of the twelve or so demons dies before I do.
A cursed mumble behind me, and the silenced weapon tells me he’s out of bullets. “What now?” I whisper urgently, only slightly comforted by the fact that we are both still standing, both still alive.
“They call you Micah, the great warrior Seer,” Jeremy bellows at my stranger, “and yet, you believe gold-plated bullets will hurt me.”
I do not know what a “Seer” is, besides Micah, apparently, but Jeremy speaks the word as a jeer.
“You’re an insult to your kind,” Jeremy adds, a rumble of laughter following, and the sound is as soft and gentle as it is brutal and destructive to the ears—a devil’s song.
I swallow the bile gathering in my throat, glaring at the demons before me with a viciousness and façade of confidence that I pray convinces them I have limitless weapons. I consider running. It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid, but the urge is powerful—overwhelmingly powerful.
As if he’s read my mind, Micah captures my hand by our sides. “Stay where you are,” he orders, his tone sharp and nonnegotiable.
His touch is fire—a burn I do not understand, but it’s not unpleasant. I don’t pull away. “Please tell me you have a better plan than standing here and getting eaten.”
“Patience is a Seer’s best virtue.”
“What is a Seer?!” I shout, trying to understand what’s happening, but I never get the chance.
Action blows up around me, as in literally. The demons in front of me explode into ash—an excessive amount of ash—covering me and choking me. Three of the men I’d seen fighting the monsters at the front of the house appear where the demons had stood, clearly responsible for the ash cloud I’m currently, and once again, ingesting into my lungs. Logically, I should run toward them, but my instinct in this moment is to stay with Micah. I whirl around and step to Micah’s side. Jeremy is surrounded by four men, two of whom are holding what look like small rocket launchers—if I can trust my obsession with action movies as expert opinion. The men fire the weapons, striking their target, and some sort of hooks attach to Jeremy’s body, to a leg, and to his chest, ropes yanking him down and onto his knees with the impact.