by Linsey Hall
Like coming home. Pleasure buzzed in my head, comfort and joy.
All around me, my friends cried out in fear and pain. But what were they complaining about? This felt great.
“No!” Cass screamed, lunging toward me.
My friends hacked at the Phantoms with their weapons, trying to free me from their grasp. Cass’s gaze was fixed on my chest, horrified.
I glanced down, my head woozy with pleasure. My chest was a transparent blue.
Shock snapped me out of my daze.
No! I didn’t want to be a Phantom. That was impossible! Terrible.
But my body had turned a silvery blue, and my sword glowed like cobalt flame.
My friends attacked the Phantoms that surrounded me, but their blades did nothing. The Phantoms were impervious. And more were converging on Nix, Cass, and Aidan. One of them grabbed Cass, and she shrieked in pain. They grabbed Nix and Aidan as well. Tears poured down Nix’s face.
These bastards wouldn’t take them, too!
Rage took over, clearing my confusion. I raised my fiery blue sword and sliced off the arm of a Phantom who held me. It howled, then collapsed.
My blade worked against them now!
It was in Phantom form, like me, and it made all the difference.
I whirled on the Phantoms surrounding me, slicing and jabbing. New speed and strength rushed through me as I cut down the monsters who had turned me into one of them. The Phantoms shrieked and fell.
I lunged for the one holding Nix, severing its ghostly head. Take that, you bastard.
With the heat of rage coursing through my veins, I plunged my sword into the shoulder of the Phantom who clutched Aidan, then jabbed at the side of the one who held Cass. It was surreal to watch my transparent blue arm and cobalt blade hack down the Phantoms.
“Run!” I screamed.
“Not without you!” Cass yelled.
“I’m coming.” I beheaded another Phantom. My friends were still human. I was the only one who could fight them. “Go!”
Indecision warred on Cass’s face, but she nodded sharply, then turned and ran. Aidan and Nix followed.
Good.
This was my fight now. I spun through the crowd of Phantoms, faster and more graceful than I’d ever been before. My silvery blue hair whipped around my face as I cut down my enemies. Anger filled my chest every time one laid a hand on me. Because it felt good when they touched me.
I didn’t want to be one of these monsters that fed on pain and misery. But they’d made me one of them.
I killed them all, filled with joy every time one of them fell.
When their ghostly blue forms littered the ground around me, some fading, some still intact, I turned to join my friends.
Cold dragged me back to the present. I blinked, staring up at the dark night sky. A chilly breeze whipped over the hill upon which I lay. There were no stars and just the faint glow of the moon behind some clouds.
Why had I just remembered the time I’d first turned into a Phantom? I’d never remembered it in such clarity before. When it had happened, I’d been so panicked that it had gone by in a blur.
But now I remembered. With a level of detail I never had before.
And it sickened me.
I’d liked being with the Phantoms. I’d been enraged that they’d changed me and afraid it was permanent, but I’d liked them. What kind of person liked such horrible beasts?
The memory of the ghostly blue force that had dragged me here flashed in my mind.
What had that been? It’d looked almost like a dragon, though it’d been made of wispy blue smoke. Not real, but made of magic.
And where had it taken me? Was it really gone?
My breath grew short and my skin chilled. The grass was wet beneath my hands as I struggled to my feet, and my burns ached. Damned fire-throwing demons.
I was in the middle of nowhere. But there was no ghostly blue force. A light rain fell, cold and damp on my face. I shivered, sheathing my sword and clutching my arms around myself.
Roarke was stuck back in Merlin’s Cave. He could handle himself, which was a good thing, since I had no way to get back there. And I had no idea where I even was.
Still, worry for him dogged me. Which was annoying. It’d be a good thing for me if he got offed by some demons. Right?
Logically, yes. I wouldn’t have the Warden of the Underworld on my tail.
But I really didn’t like the idea of him getting killed.
Fortunately, it was unlikely. And standing here worrying wasn’t going to do any good. I fiddled with the tracking bracelet on my wrist as I took in my surroundings, so desolate and dark.
Moonlight shined on the land that rolled gently into the distance in all directions. The ground cover was scrubby and hard to distinguish, but it was clear that there were few trees and no houses or roads. Here and there, massive piles of stone punctuated the horizon, crouching on top of hills like giant beasts.
They looked vaguely familiar. I had to be on a moor somewhere, and the rock-topped hills were tors. Possibly Dartmoor or Exmoor, both of which were close to Tintagel. Or I was all the way up in Yorkshire.
A wolf howled in the distance.
Right. Great. I was on Dartmoor, and that was the Hound of the Baskervilles. Even in my Phantom form, I didn’t want to run into some giant hellbeast.
I reached up and rubbed the golden feather charm at my neck for good luck, then pressed my fingertips to my comms charm to ignite the magic.
“Nix? Cass?”
“Del!” Cass’s voice came through clearly. It was so good to hear a familiar voice. I might throw myself at demons, but hanging out alone on a dark moor was creepy.
“Where are you?” Nix demanded.
“No idea. On a moor somewhere. I lost Roarke.”
The wolf howled again.
“Dartmoor,” Nix said. “That’s got to be the Hound of the Baskervilles.”
I laughed. “I made the same joke. But I don’t think that hound is real.”
“I don’t know. Sherlock was pretty clued in, for a human,” Nix said.
“Want us to use our dragon sense to find you? We can come get you.” There was a pause on the other side of the line for just a moment. “I think you’re still in southeast England.”
“It’s cool,” I said. “I’m too far for you to determine my precise location, so give me an hour to see if I can find my way to civilization. I’d rather not sit around out here waiting for you. If I can’t, I’ll call.”
“Fair enough,” Nix said. “In that case, you need to head downhill. Find a river and follow it downstream. That will lead you off the moor.”
“Then find a road sign and tell us where you are,” Cass said. “We’ll come get you.”
“And hurry,” Nix said. “Weather can turn foul real quick on a moor. You don’t want to get caught in a storm.”
She was right. I could take on my Phantom form and be protected from the worst of the elements, but it would still suck.
“Okay,” I said. “I’m off. Wish me luck that I find the shortest river.”
“You’ve got it under control,” Cass said.
“Call us when you know where you are,” Nix added.
“Thanks, guys.”
The connection broke, and I was once again alone. If only I had a tour guide to get off this freaking moor. It was cold and wet, and the desolate beauty was hidden by the darkness. This was going to be one miserable hike.
I set off downhill, disoriented by the lack of stars and the moon that kept hiding behind the clouds.
The wolves’ howling grew closer, sending goosebumps over my skin. There was more than one now.
But it was no big deal.
Two shadowy figures appeared on the next ridge. The wolves.
I stiffened as they headed toward me, ready to take on my Phantom form so that their fangs couldn’t sink into me. But when they neared, I squinted.
Those weren’t wolves.
They were
dogs.
Two collies. A brown one and a black one. Their tongues lolled out of their mouths in what I assumed was a doggy smile.
Apparently I’d just been paranoid.
“Hi, guys,” I said.
This was the second time in recent memory I’d had dogs show up when I was in a pickle. About a month ago, I’d met a hellhound named Pondflower. Now these two were here. Dogs liked me, it seemed. And I liked them back. Better than most humans, in fact.
They weren’t as obviously magical as Pondflower had been. She’d smelled like brimstone. These two just smelled like wet fur and looked up at me happily. But there was something special in their eyes.
“Think you could lead me off the moor?” I asked.
They looked at each other, then turned and trotted down the hill. I shrugged and followed. Since they were headed downhill, I assumed they were leading me to safety. I’d been heading in this direction anyway.
“You guys are pretty nice,” I said.
They distracted me from my injuries. With the adrenaline fading, I could feel the burns more. The dogs trotted at my side, slightly ahead of me, glancing back every now and again to make sure that I was keeping up.
When we reached the valley between two of the tors, the dogs stopped at the river that ran between. They bounded toward it and slurped up water.
The water glittered in the moonlight, which made it look inviting. I reached up to touch my cheeks and felt the stickiness of demon blood. While I bent down to wash it from my face, the brown collie waded right into the stream, wallowing happily. When I stood, he bounded out again and set off downstream.
I smiled and followed, grateful that they headed in the same direction I did. I really didn’t want to leave them behind. Why were two collies on the moor in the middle of the night anyway?
About twenty minutes later, I caught sight of a glow in the distance. The dogs picked up the pace, and so did I, loping along in my wet boots. I prayed to magic that someone friendly lived in the house where the windows glowed brightly.
But when I neared, I saw that it was a pub.
Oh, thank fates.
A wooden sign blew in the breeze. I squinted and read the name Royal William Arms. Through the windows, I could make out the golden light of the lamps and the bar that was nearly empty save for a few hearty souls sitting near the crackling fire. They had the distinctive pale eyes of one of the nocturnal, supernatural species. Magic hummed around the place.
Jackpot. I’d stumbled on a pub owned by a supernatural. That’d make things even easier. Particularly since it was probably nearly morning. If this had been a human pub, it probably wouldn’t even be open.
The dogs ran right up to the wooden door, nudging it open with their noses, and I followed.
“Harvey and Holly!” a voice boomed. “What have you found on the moor?”
I stepped into the warmth of the pub. My clothes were clinging wetly to my skin and my nose felt red as an apple, so the heat from the crackling fire felt amazing. The interior of the pub was all dark wood and heavy, antique furniture upholstered in faded red velvet. This place had probably been here for five hundred years.
A rotund barkeep draped in a white apron was grinning at the two dogs, who grinned right back, their tongues lolling. The man’s friendly gaze met mine. His gaze was the same pale shade of gray—almost white—as that of the men sitting in front of the fire.
“I see our local fairy dogs found you?” he said.
“Fairy dogs?” I took a seat at the bar closest to the fire.
My injuries were now making themselves apparent, and standing was no longer an option. My shoulder ached from where I’d landed on the hard stone when those medieval jerks had tossed me into the cell, and my burns were stinging.
“Aye. They live in the village with a human couple. But they let themselves out at night to roam the moor. They’ve got a bit of magic in them and like to dance with the fairies on the tors at night. They go between that world and this world. Been around as long as anyone can remember. Immortal, probably.”
“The humans know about this?” Humans knowing about magic was strictly against the rules.
“Not a clue, bless them. But Harvey and Holly seem to like them, so they stick close by. Except at night, when they go out and find stragglers such as yourself.”
“Lucky me.”
“You shouldn’t be wandering at night.”
“No kidding. Where am I, by the way?”
“Merrivale. West side of Dartmoor.”
Dartmoor, with my two Baskerville hounds. I was living in a novel.
“Can I get you a pint?”
I nodded. Might as well, if I had to wait for Cass and Nix to show up. And it might dull the pain of the burns. I eyed the taps, noting a selection of real ales popular in the region. Good. None of that wimpy stuff Cass drank.
“Anything is fine.”
While he poured me the pint, the dogs gave me one last look, then headed out into the night again.
“Thanks!” I called after them. I pushed aside my worry over Roarke and reached up to touch the comms charm at my neck. Time to get the heck out of here.
But before my fingertips made contact, the barkeep put the pint on the bar.
“Thanks.” I dug into my pocket for my slim wallet. This place was old, but I’d bet they took a card.
“First one’s on the house, if Holly and Harvey approved of you.”
“Thanks extra, then.” I grinned and took a sip. Warmer than American beer and a bit flatter, but lovely all the same. Though my fave was boxed wine, I was a beer snob at heart when I actually drank the stuff. The weirder and stronger, the better, and this fit the bill.
“Not a problem. Now you warm up. Do you need me to call you a lift?”
“I’ve got it, but thank you.”
He nodded and turned. I reached up to touch my comms charm, but the door swung open.
I turned to see Holly and Harvey trot in, leading a tall, wet man.
Roarke.
He was okay. Tension flowed out of my shoulders.
Which annoyed me. I shouldn’t like him.
I looked at the dogs instead of him. “I thought you were on my side, guys.”
They grinned at me.
“You found another one, eh?” the barkeep said. “That’s a record!”
The dogs gave a bark, then turned around to head out into the night, probably to dance with the fairies. I smiled after them, but it slipped from my face as I looked at Roarke.
He strode toward me, back in his human form with his hand pressed to his side and his gaze worried. He stopped in front of me and lifted his other hand to hover it near the burns on my face. He didn’t quite touch, but the so-close sensation made my heart race.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Fine.”
He lowered his hand. “Then what the hell was that? You disappeared.”
“He giving you trouble, lass?” the barkeep asked.
“Yeah, but it’s okay,” I said. “We’re pals.”
The barkeep nodded, satisfied, and turned to answer a call from the back of the pub.
Roarke huffed a small laugh. “Pals?”
“What would you call us?” I asked.
“Not pals.” His dark gaze met mine, and it definitely wasn’t cruel. It was… interested.
“Uh.” My mind scrambled, then righted itself. “What happened back there? Did you see what carried me away?”
He frowned. “It was a strange blue cloud. Wispy. There was a pattern to it, almost like scales.”
“But did it have a shape?”
“Not that I could see. Though it was hard to get a good look during the battle.”
So he hadn’t thought it looked like a dragon. Which made sense, because no one had seen a dragon in centuries. Cass had four dragonets who occasionally helped her, but they were the size of cats and made of magic, not flesh and blood. Entirely different.
“Whatever it was, it w
as weird,” I said.
“Part of the protection spell on the cavern, maybe?”
I shrugged, though I didn’t believe it. That cloud had felt familiar. And if that wasn’t a weird sentence, I didn’t know what was.
“What happened with the demons?” I asked.
“Killed most of them before the Ubilaz demon escaped. He had a transportation charm.”
Damn. “It’ll take him time to collect another army, right? He only had a couple dozen.”
“Yeah. We’re good to recover for the night, then start tomorrow. He’ll have more on his side, but we should be able to handle it.”
“Not like we could handle him now, anyway.” My whole body ached. Roarke looked pretty beat up too. I rubbed the tracking bracelet on my wrist. “Then you tracked me here?”
He nodded. “To Dartmoor. Then the dogs met me.”
“How’d you get to Dartmoor so quickly? Was there an entrance to the Underpath at Tintagel?”
“No. But I made one.”
Wow.
I was about to ask how when the barkeep approached. “What will you have?”
“Whatever she’s having.” Roarke took the stool next to me, grimacing as he sat.
We were going to need a bit of recovery time before we picked up the hunt again. He accepted the beer from the barkeep, but his movements were a bit stiff. Again, the barkeep turned down payment.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Just a flesh wound.”
“Okay, Monty Python.”
“It’ll heal quickly. I just need to sit a moment.”
“Advanced healing?”
“A bit.”
“Nice.” Some supernaturals had the gift. I wished I did. But Roarke’s powers seemed to hang out in the realm of super strength and physical superiority, so it made sense that he had it.
“So, exactly how many did you off?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Maybe a couple dozen.”
“All in a day’s work.”
“Exactly. Though I’m concerned. He accumulated a larger following than I would have expected.”
“He’s strong. And smart. He trapped us there.”
“Yeah. He knew I’d come for him.”
“Smart, powerful, and popular,” I said. “Among demon-kind, at least. Dangerous combo.”
“Yeah.” He drank half his beer in one long gulp. “They call them Cat 5s for a reason.”
