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)
Right as it’s about to be on top of me, I spellcast my jacket away, and I pray for the crab’s lack of mobility and agility. I roll until I’m behind him, and once I’m on my feet again, I reach for my mental link with Micah, screaming in my mind, Help, Micah! I need help! On the beach! Attack!
I have no idea if I actually reached him and no time to analyze if the mental link between us was actually established. The crab is fast, whipping around to face me, and I attempt a rift again, only to be forced into yet another roll. Damn Elysium and its creatures! My right thigh heats, fire on my skin, and I remember the blade. The blade! Please let its magic work better than mine right now. I yank it free of the leather case, but the crab is screaming at me in a high-pitched howl of sorts, showing frustration at my evasive techniques, the swishes of its claws telling me it’s about to chop me up.
I roll yet again, a plan forming in my mind.
The crab’s shell is divided into four sections with a gap between each piece, which offers me a place to grab hold of it if I can get in the right position. I’ll come up behind him, climb on top of him, and start stabbing him in the gaps in between the shell sections. This might be my craziest idea, but I have to try, and I’m already moving, running as fast as I can around the crab, rolling and dodging claws. Finally, I’m in position at the crab’s rear, and I jump as high as I can. Bingo. I snag a grip on the shell, heaving my body up with a solid grip. The creature barely knows what is happening when I use my right hand to shove the blade into the soft fleshy area beneath my fingers.
The beast of a crab squeals and begins bucking and thrashing about. Desperately, I try to hold on, cold air whipping around my face, and it’s all I can do to avoid the flailing claws. A roar escapes my lips as my fingers are ripped from their positions. My stomach lurches as I fly through the air and land with a hard thud that steals my breath, the silk of the sand doing nothing to stop the jolting of my bones. My heart swooshes in my ears, and I try to move, but it’s too late. The furious crab is standing over me, and Lord help me, it has long, sharp fangs ready to take a bite of me.
Instinct kicks in, and I shove the blade in its belly.
The crab lets out a shrill shriek that’s almost unbearable to my ears, but I told Micah I would fight, and I’m fighting. I’m trying to survive. I will survive. I pull my blade out, and when I go to stab the crab again, a blade is shoved under his chin. “Roll!” Micah shouts at me.
I roll and roll some more until I’m sure I’m clear of the crab, and I’m on my knees with the blade ready for attack when the creature collapses on the sand. Micah stalks toward me, a graceful panther, a predator pursuing his prey, and I’m that prey, and I’d be smart to remember the ease with which he kills. “I told you to fucking read,” he snaps, impatience in his scolding. “I told you we’d start training tomorrow. What the fuck were you thinking coming down to the beach without me?”
With a shove off the ground, I straighten, ready to square off with him, sheathing my blade before I cut him for being such an asshole. “Stop saying ‘fuck,’” I demand, poking a finger in the air at him, “and you never said the beach was dangerous. It seems like you might want to mention the gloriously beautiful beach has giant crabs.”
He steps toe-to-toe with me, towering over me, and I can almost taste the anger etched in his dark scowl. “I told you the forest was the easier walk. Now you understand why. And they never come to shore unless you boil them.”
“I almost died, and all you can do is lecture me? Really? Stop making me read everything and tell me what you know, and maybe I wouldn’t be here right now. To humans, beaches are about rest and relaxation. We don’t fear giant crabs.”
He eyes the cauldron and grits his teeth. “What the fuck is that?”
“I told you to stop saying that. The house showed me a spellbook—”
He catches my arm, and not gently, yanking me to him, our bodies colliding, intimately close, a mix of his anger and his magic a current dancing along my skin. “We talked about this,” he bites out. “You’re too powerful to play with magic you do not understand. You wait on me. Wait, Ember.”