Windburn

She let out a sigh, but under my hand I felt her eagerness. There was a tentative pull through me, but I didn’t reach for the earth’s power. Around us, the path opened again, the branches pulling back. Cactus stepped up close behind me. “Is that her or you?”

“It’s Peta. Apparently you were meant to be with a Terraling all along.” I smiled, not only because I was pleased but because of the way Peta felt.

She was ecstatic. “I’m really doing this?”

I nodded and urged her forward with my hand, then took it from her back. “Lead on.”

Her green eyes met mine and in the look so much was encompassed. Love, friendship, loyalty and sheer joy. Smiling, I waved at her and she stepped forward, the plants moving out of her way.

“You know this shouldn’t be able to happen,” Cactus said.

I shrugged. “Seems to be a recurring thing with me.”

Ahead of us, Peta dropped to her belly. The sound of voices floated in the night air to us. I lowered into a crouch as I took my spear from my belt and twisted it together. Cactus did the same and we moved forward with quiet steps, moving only the bushes we had to.

Through the screen of the foliage, the flicker of fire danced. A bonfire, by the height of the flames that reached the top of the trees. So we’d found the clearing, but what was The Bastard up to? He had no need of a fire to keep warm.

I crept closer until we were at the edge of our cover, Peta on the right of me and Cactus on the left.

In front of us, circling the bonfire were a number of people. I looked closer, picking up on their auras. Not people, supernaturals. “Count them,” Peta said.

A quick tally told me all I needed. Thirteen—a coven of witches. That wasn’t the disturbing part, though. Thirteen witches, and one more tied to a stake driven into the ground. The captive was male with deep brown hair and a pretty face, nearly feminine in its beauty. He stared around, pulling at the binding. “Let me down, this was not the agreement.” His voice made me jump, the depth of it a juxtaposition with his features.

The other witches ignored him, as if he’d not spoken at all.

Cactus shifted his weight and I glanced at him. His eyes were deadly serious. “If we take them by surprise, I think we could handle them all. He needs our help. We can’t leave him.”

From the glade, a slap resounded in the air. We turned at the same time. A woman stood in front of the man tied to the stake. “Winters, you do not deserve to be freed. The demon asked for you, and that is a small price to pay for his knowledge.”

He shook his head. “You can’t control him. Once he comes through, you will be at his mercy. Trust me.”

She spat at him. “Trust you? Maybe you are the strongest the world has seen, but your mind and spine are soft. Which makes you unworthy of leading us.”

Backing up, she snapped her fingers. The coven swirled around the bonfire and a faint whinny snapped my head around. One of the witches ran toward the stake, a bowl in her hands. The liquid within it sloshed dark in the firelight.

“Peta,” I said. “Is that what I think it is?”

“That’s The Bastard’s blood. I’m sure of it.” Her eyes met mine. “They’re calling a demon forth. If they need his blood to call this particular demon . . . it’s a bad one.”

Worm shit and green sticks. We had no choice. Even if The Bastard wasn’t in trouble, we couldn’t let these idiots bring a demon into the world.

I stood and strode out into the clearing. I flicked my hands at the ground, sending it up in a spray of dirt that tamped down the bonfire. Cactus was right with me, his hands raised.

We were too damn sure of ourselves, though. These were not elementals who played by the rules.

A bolt of pure power slammed into me from the left, sending me through the air. I hit a tree and slid down the trunk. The fight surrounded us, witches flinging spells and Cactus fighting for all he was worth. Peta stayed in front of me, dodging blows and delivering her own.

But all I saw was the heaving side of The Bastard in front of me. His white coat splattered with blood and his wings shivering as though tiny currents rippled through his body. A faint wheeze squeezed out of him.

“Useless elementals, hiding when you should fight,” he bit out, his dark eyes rolling to me as his hooves dug into the ground. Something about him pulled me closer, I knew I should have been fighting to keep the witches at bay, to stop the demon . . . but . . . I couldn’t keep my hands from The Bastard.

I pressed one hand against his muscular neck, and ran the other over his side as far as I could reach. Spirit roared inside me; fear made me hold back. A shudder slipped through him and I felt him slip further into the Veil as if I could see it happening.

Was it worth trying to save him? I had to believe it was; not because of his value to me, but because it was the right thing to do.

If I was wrong, I was willingly giving up a piece of my own soul by saving him.

“Mother goddess, help me,” I said, and opened myself to the power of Spirit.

CHAPTER 12

As carefully as I could, I threaded Spirit through his body. His wounds ran through his belly; they’d split his stomach and spilled his guts onto the ground. I didn’t think about how it would heal, only that it needed to. The Bastard let out a low groan.

Inch by inch, I closed his wounds. Sweat poured down my face and arms as I stitched him together. Equine stomachs were monstrously huge with coil after coil of intestine, and I had to wrap it together. His legs and hooves twitched as I worked, and his wings shuddered here and there. But otherwise, he was quiet.