Page 57 of Samhain Savior

“Corson, Mal, you run point. I’ll bring up the rear with the witch.” I didn’t even have it in me to be annoyed, mostly because being with Archer meant being near the relic he carried, and that was all that mattered to my fevered mind.

“Archer,” Corson interrupted. “There are more of them than there are of us. Are you sure this is a fight you want to commit to?”

Archer glanced at me, his face troubled, then at Persephone and her watery, angry eyes, before he sighed.

“It is a fight we have to commit to, so let’s get it over with.”

“Stay close,” he muttered, tucking the weathervane under one arm before notching an arrow and readying the black wood bow. “And do as I say.”

“I can help, you know,” I muttered, feeling my resentment bubble up once again. Why was he so intent on keeping it from me? It was mine, dammit! “Or, at least I could if you hadn’t taken all my things.”

He frowned at me, his eyes expressing his doubt at my claim, but said nothing. Instead, he checked in with theothers one more time before moving to the door and pausing to listen.

“Alright, let’s do this. Good hunting, Brothers.”

They repeated the words back to him, then Corson yanked the door open and burst into the narrow stairwell, Mal on his heels like a wraith. I watched as Vine waited a beat, listening, then he grabbed Persephone by the arm and towed her after him.

“Archer.” I tugged urgently on his sleeve in an attempt to get his attention. “Give it to me. I can protect it better than you can.” Anger swirled in my veins, warring with the covetous desire I had to just rip it from his grasp and run with it. Take it from him, keep it for myself.

Forever.

But deep in the back of my mind, I knew that no matter how far I ran, Archer would find me.

The thought comforted me as much as it annoyed me.

“I’ll keep it safe,” I assured him, trying to look innocent and dependable.

Once again, he stared me down, his hesitation evident. But eventually, he nodded, removing the piece from under his arm and holding it out. When I went to take it—my heart in my throat at the prospect of holding it in my own hands—he yanked it back and out of my reach.

“If you double cross me, witch,” he threatened. “I will drop you in the deepest hole I can find and leave you there to rot.”

“I won’t,” I promised, only half paying attention because the orb in his hands was calling me like a beacon.

I could feel it, the energy of the relic. It was trapped inside the bulb, caged and howling, and it wanted out.

Desperately.

Without thinking, I grasped the piece by the iron pole and swung it like an axe, bringing the orb down on the floor with a ringing thwack.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Archer hissed, reaching for the weathervane. I scrambled back, showing him my teeth as I glared his way, but he only followed me step for step.

“I need it open,” I answered, raising the orb above my head again for another swing. “It’s mine, and I want it open.”

“It’s solid gold.” He grasped my wrist, halting the downward stroke. “You’ll never break it.”

“But it needs to get out.” I had no real idea what I was saying, only that I knew down to the depths of my soul that I had to open that bulb and let the relic out.

“Do you think we could focus on escaping with our lives first?” he spat, and I realized the sounds of fighting wereloud in the room below us. “You can act insane later. Right now, I need you to fuckinglisten!”

“Fine,” I muttered petulantly, shaking off his grip and clutching the thing to my chest, taking care not to squash Pandora, who chittered at me, making her displeasure known.

“Time to move,” Archer growled, yanking open the door. The sounds of combat grew louder—metal clashing against metal, the crackle of magic, and someone’s pained cry.

I followed close to Archer as we descended the narrow stairs, his steps quiet and his bow held ready. The burning in my chest intensified with every step, as though it was reaching out through my ribcage and straight for the relic I carried.

I needed a moment. Just one to focus, to listen to what the power inside the bulb was telling me. Once I had that—once I had the relic in my hands—I could breathe again, I knew it.

I only needed a moment of peace.