Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“Nope.” She scorched his blade with power, forcing him to drop it, and—
“Don’t kill him, he’s all that’s left!” shouted Jolene.
Bummer. Naomi had wanted to make him pay for that slice. Instead, she pyroported behind him, wrapped her arm tight around his neck, and then squeezed hard.
He choked on a breath and struggled against her hold. As a demon, she was stronger than him, and he couldn’t get himself free. He desperately clawed at her arm and tried stomping on her feet. She thought he’d start lobbing magick at her, but it was as if he wasn’t thinking, too caught up in sheer animal panic.
She didn’t release him. Didn’t loosen her hold. Just kept on choking him out.
His struggles weakened until finally he lost consciousness.
Naomi let him drop to the floor and then looked around. The rest of his brethren had been slain. Her lair members were all on their feet, but a few looked a little the worse for wear. “Anyone need healing?”
Ciaran waved away the offer. “I’ve only got minor burns, they’re healing already.” The others echoed his sentiment, except for her mother and her anchor.
Tobe stared down at the slice on his chest. “It’s only shallow, so I’d say it ain’t a big deal, but I felt dark magick enter my bloodstream.”
Naomi pressed her hand over his wound, calling her inner fire to the surface, letting it heal him as it would her. She then gave the same treatment to the slashes on her mother’s neck and arm.
All seraphim could heal. Her power might not be pure like theirs, but it could still perform that ability. It had come in handy often over the years.
“Nobody else has an injury they want rid of?” she double-checked.
“We’re all peachy,” said Alfie, and the others nodded in agreement.
Smoothing back the hairs around her face that had escaped her stylish updo, Jolene said, “I believe we’re ready for step two in our plan. Let’s move the cleric over to the bed.”
Beck scooped him up and unceremoniously tossed him over his shoulder while Jolene snatched up a fallen sword.
Naomi used red-violet fire to incinerate every trace of his brethren’s existence, including the other blades. Meanwhile, Beck positioned Baby Face on her bed while Jolene propped the sword up against the dresser. Tobe then quickly injected him with a drug that was a slightly stronger version of truth serum.
Khloë rubbed her palms together. “Fingers crossed this all goes well and we get the answers we need.”
“Your fingers aren’t crossed,” Ciaran seemed to feel compelled to point out.
“You’re so literal sometimes,” his sister griped.
“Right, all of you step away from the bed and stand behind Tobe,” Jolene ordered. “The human should wake any minute.”
They did as instructed, at which point Tobe threw up a shield that would hide their presence. Jolene then knocked back a vial of something she’d bought from Ella—it was basically liquidized glamor magick. Her facial features seemed to blur, swim, ripple, then re-form into a completely different face. Her features hadn’t truly changed; the magick simply made them appear different to whoever looked at her.
Jolene turned to them, hand on hip, and patted her hair. “Well, how do I look?”
“A lot like my grandmother,” Beck said honestly.
The Prime smiled. “Excellent. She has a sweet face that screams ‘You can trust me.’ That will help.”
Hopefully, yes, it would. They needed the cleric to feel comfortable with Jolene. To see her as no threat and lower his guard, if only a little.
They wouldn’t be able to squeeze information out of him via even the most gentle interrogation. Questions relating to the monkhood and the dark practitioner would no doubt trigger his brain and body to conk out. That meant they would have to make him share willingly.
People did that during conversations if they felt relaxed and safe. The truth serum would make him more inclined to be open; it would remove his hesitation to keep secrets. So as long as Jolene stuck to clever prompts, she should be able to make him blurt out helpful information.
“This had better work,” muttered Tobe, rolling his shoulders.
“Fingers crossed it does,” said Khloë.
Ciaran sighed. “Again, you’re not actually crossing them.”
“Again, I’m doing it mentally.”
“Why not just do it physically?”
“I’m tired.”
Jolene raised a hand, gesturing for silence. “Quiet. He’s starting to stir.” She perched herself on the edge of the bed, plastered a gentle look on her face, and focused on him.
Soon, his eyelids began to flutter and he mumbled non-intelligible words beneath his breath. He looked up at Jolene, his eyes a little glazed over. “Who are you?”
“Someone who means you no harm,” Jolene replied, her voice soft and lulling. “I found you outside in my yard. You’re hurt. It seems something happened to you.”
His brow furrowing, he lifted his head to take stock of himself, noticing the burns on his chest and arms. Confusion deepened his frown. “The last thing I remember is leaving the monastery with my brothers.”