Page 99 of Horns of Wicked Ebony (Deathcaller Duet #2)

A gust of wind rustled the branches of the evergreens overhead, like the trees were whispering warnings.

I prowled forward, using the sound to mask my footsteps.

Flake after flake of snow dusted across my cheeks, and I clenched my teeth to avoid chattering them.

Around me, the Deathveiled slipped forward, hugging the thick trunks and easing over large rocks.

The scrub in this section made navigating the terrain difficult, and many snaked their shadows through the tangles to hold them wide enough to pass through without creating a clamor.

This was the farthest we’d ventured from the outpost for a raid, and with clouds cloaking the moon, we had the advantage.

Though it was a risk to be so close to the Angel’s camp with so few of us.

On my one side, Uzadaan and Zurronar held close, tasked by Rokath with protecting me at all costs, while he led part of the unit from a different direction.

“We’re almost there,” my mate spoke down our mental connection.

I held up my fist, and everyone with me halted. I crept closer to Uzadaan and Zurronar, lowering my voice. “We wait for Rokath’s signal to enter the camp. Then we find the Padisa.”

“Banand swore Araquiel wasn’t lying about where she’d be. I’m not worried,” Zurronar whispered.

“She’s a Sensor,” I reiterated, my stomach churning anyway.

Araquiel had given up the name and location of a top Padisa with direct ties to Zahal Ishim.

The plan was to capture her and bring her with us to the outpost. One, so that I could impersonate her in the future.

Second, so that Rokath could anger the Angel’s leader further and force a meeting.

The psychological warfare we’d been waging already had a vise-like grip over our enemies and sowed chaos like they were seeds during the harvest.

“But he opened up their mental connection and searched her mind,” Zurronar protested. Out of everyone involved in this situation, he seemed to be the one who was most okay with it happening.

“You don’t think the Halálhívó knows everything that goes on in my mind, right?” I snapped. “Now quiet, we need to listen for the signal.”

With a grumble, the three of us faced forward, creeping toward a large bush and peering through it. A twig snapped behind us, and I whipped my head around, heart stilling when I saw it was only Izzenna, the ruby-eyed Nightmare creator, and not a group of Angels that had snuck up on us.

“Sorry,” she mouthed. Beside her, Vokkia, the cherry-eyed Destructor, picked her way forward more carefully. Maariya had continued on with Rapp and Kiira to the outpost closest to Uzhhorod.

I was grateful the two had chosen to remain with me. They closed in quickly, joining our huddle. The five of us tucked close, trying to remain unnoticed.

Firelight flickered in the distance, and only a few Angels wandered the fringes at the late hour. Much like when we’d rescued Banand and Zurronar, we were going to cause a distraction, diverting everyone away from the true target.

Minutes passed, and heat dripped down my spine. My legs trembled from the effort of holding our position.

Where the fuck is Rokath?

The thought had no sooner crossed my mind before the first shout sliced through the stillness. I counted to thirty, each number enunciated, hoping that the volume would rise. When a large, armed group raced by, I knew it was time.

Dipping my eyes closed, I dove into my magic well, bringing the twister of onyx over my frame and becoming the Myrza. In seconds, I was taller, broader, and male. “Let’s go,” I ordered in Demonic. At least now, most of the unit was accustomed to the language coming out of his mouth.

We stalked forward, scanning the area for sentries. Since I’d supposedly switched sides, I crafted brown leather armor, which helped me blend in, versus the pristine white boasted by the Angels.

No one remained to cover these woods. Quickening our pace, we penetrated the camp, steering for the rear portion where the Padisa would supposedly oversee all of her section. Finding the striped tent was easy when it was surrounded by fire and pressed against a rocky outcropping.

Smart, so no one could sneak up from behind. Foolish, because she’d be easier to pin and drag back with us.

We ducked into an alley, only to collide with a group of five Angels.

Half-dressed, weapons in hand, they looked like they’d been roused from sleep and were on their way to Rokath’s diversion.

Uzadaan and Zurronar sprang into action, flinging their arms forward and pinching their fingers together.

All five froze in place, their blood unmoving.

Izzenna and Vokkia lunged past the males, bronze blades slicing across their throats.

They eased each body to the ground without a sound.

We hushed along, the flames flickering as we closed in on the Padisa’s location. Hurried Angelic burst from behind the flaps. I tried to count how many voices there were, but with the frantic tones and people talking over one another, it was difficult.

“At least four,” I muttered under my breath.

Once again, Uzadaan and Zurronar called upon their magic. Ebony strands of power snaked beneath the fabric, seeking out those inside. I held my breath. If the Angels noticed the encroaching darkness, we’d never capture the Padisa.

“They’re frozen,” Uzadaan announced.

My chest loosened. We couldn’t kill them all without laying eyes on them first.

The two moved in tandem, pulling open the entrance while maintaining their holds. Izzenna, Vokkia, and I hurried inside, the females shoving the bodies around while I stalked toward the officer and drew my sword.

With a huff, Uzadaan and Zurronar released their magic before they accidentally killed someone from lack of blood flow.

“You’re coming with me,” I told her in Angelic, grabbing her arm and hauling her forward.

She thrashed, and I tightened my grip. My sword swept to her stomach as an added incentive. The Padisa went still, a hand resting at her side while the other remained on my wrist. “So the rumors are true.”

“They are,” I stated simply. The females slit the throats of those still watching, while Zurronar gutted one, leaving him partially alive. At least long enough to report what we’d done.

As I marched her forward again, she twisted, and pain burned in my arm. “Fuck!” I swore in Demonic without thinking. But that wasn’t my worst mistake. No, it was the silver dagger biting into my arm.

Panic ravaged my ribs. Pain seared my skin. My form flickered, the pale color of the Myrza replaced with the dark tan of my body.

With a shriek, I released the Padisa. Dropping the hilt, I yanked out the weapon and shucked it across the tent.

My magic quivered. I blinked in and out of height as she bolted. Uzadaan tackled her, crashing to the ground and skidding with his momentum.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Rokath shot down our bond.

“Fine,” I ground back. The wound was manageable and not life threatening. “Someone kill him,” I snapped, pointing to the one we’d intentionally left alive. “Can’t have him telling everyone the Myrza isn’t actually alive.”

Vokkia slaughtered him without hesitation.

That one hit of silver had gulped a solid portion of my well.

Anxiety spiked as I struggled to create the form over myself again.

“We need to make more of a scene now,” I instructed, my mind working at a sprint, fueled by the fear I couldn’t wield my magic.

That I was powerless in the midst of our enemies.

“Gag her first so she can’t say anything. Oh and check her back for a mate mark.”

Uzadaan and Zurronar held her arms while Izzenna ripped her tunic open, finding the skin bare, but a few hidden sheaths. Izzenna snatched them all from the Angel.

“You will fucking die for this,” the Padisa hissed at everyone. Her lapis eyes glittered with hatred.

“No, that will be you,” I bit out. “Unless you join our cause. But that’s a discussion for later. Let’s go.”

The males hauled her upright, using a torn bit of her tunic as a gag. She writhed, a muffled scream shredding her throat. Her long white hair tangled in a thrash of limbs. “Can I knock her out?” Uzadaan threw over his shoulder in Demonic.

“Once we get into the woods.” Chaos clawed through the camp, and somewhere, a fire spit smoke into the night. Any who passed by us were either killed or left clinging to life.

“We’re almost out,” I relayed to Rokath.

I received a grunt in response. Once the shadowed trees enveloped us again, I gave the males permission to silence the Padisa. Uzadaan threw her over his shoulder and marched on, focused on his task while I scanned our rear with Izzenna and Vokkia, ensuring no one was following us.

“Quickly now,” I encouraged, seeing no flashes of white. We had an agreed upon rendezvous point, and I wanted to reach it before Rokath’s group simply because my magic was already waning.

Sweat beaded my brow as I pressed on. Legs burned from the uphill climb. Air scraped down my throat like shattered glass.

“Szélhámos, are you alright?” Izzenna asked me, slowing her pace.

“Fine,” I panted out. But I was quickly realizing that I was not, in fact, fine. Dizziness overtook me, and I stumbled, rocks slicing into my palm.

At least I was making an offering to the Fates for a successful mission where no one died.

Izzenna and Vokkia caught my arms and hauled me up the remainder of the hill. “Maybe you should let your magic go now? So you don’t burn out?” Izzenna suggested, helping me sit on a rock. With a well as deep as mine, that was nearly impossible, but I didn’t have the energy to correct her.

The males had paused, and Zurronar’s face was pale as he examined me .

“Let it go,” he murmured, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We’ve got you.”

I did, mostly because I thought I was going to be sick. Zurronar grabbed my shoulder, sucking in a sharp breath. “We need to get you back immediately.”

“Why?” I asked, but then bile rose. Gagging, I turned to the side, retching over a bed of moss. Vokkia rubbed soothing circles on my back until I came up for air again.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, blinking through blurred vision. Rokath burst through the treeline, blood-slicked, with death in his eyes.

Behind him, the Deathveiled tore through the underbrush. All of them. I breathed another sigh of relief.

“What the fuck?” he growled, racing to my side. He bared his sharp teeth at Uzadaan and Zurronar. “Who let this happen.” It was less of a question and more of a demand for information that would certainly end in one of their deaths.

“Mine,” I wheezed, my chest growing tight. I clutched it, and then, Rokath noticed the dark blood on my own.

“The Padisa stabbed her. The blade must have been coated in a poison. It’s what they injected me with shortly before you saved me,” Zurronar explained, hovering close like he would save me.

He was an honorable male, just like his brother.

A snarl tore from Rokath’s throat, and he whipped back to the camp. Fury took form in my mate. The rage that poured down our bond nearly ripped it apart. The savage beneath the surface exploded, burning me from the inside.

There was no mercy. No diplomacy. Only lust for blood.

“I should end every last life in their camp now.”

“Maybe save mine first?” I suggested, the world spinning around me. I tried to stand, to get his attention, but I pitched to the side .

A roar—Rokath’s?—shattered the night. My vision tunneled to a pinprick. I wasn’t afraid of the dark. But I was afraid of leaving my mate behind without me.

Shadow. Silence. Surrender.

Nothing but a void.