Heart of the Assassins (Academy of Assassins #2)

A swarm of pixies.

But these weren’t the wish-giving, sparkling fairy dust sort of faeries from children’s tales. They were carnivores, their mouths full of needle-sharp teeth, their bite packed with of enough venom to slow their prey.

Like dainty freaking vampires.

Their wings should’ve sparkled with colors, but instead they were leached of any pigment, black veins streaking through the delicate membranes, their eyes completely black and void of anything but insatiable hunger. Instead of pixie dust, grey ash fell from their wings with each flutter.

They were infected.

And too many to fight.

“Run!” Morgan didn’t hesitate—she turned and hauled ass after the kid.

The others followed immediately, all of them running blindly through the trees. She could actually feel the pixies hovering just out of reach. Draven grunted, and a quick glance showed him swatting away a pixie who’d took a chunk out of his ear.

She was horrified to realize the guys were staying behind her, covering her back, offering themselves up as a feast to protect her.

Kincade lashed out, swiping at a pixie that was reaching for her. Loki launched himself from her shoulders, tackling another that had landed on Kincade’s shoulder. There was a sharp crunch, the pixie falling limp as Loki shook him violently, before spitting out what remained.

The pixie resembled a delicate human only three inches tall, his wings almost twice as large as his body. And she and her men were going to end up being pixie snacks if she didn’t do something.

Two of the little buggers managed to evade the others, giving her vicious smiles as they dive-bombed her like kamikaze pilots. She managed to swat them away. One went spinning through the air, smacking a tree with a sickening crunch, while the other one latched onto her left hand and sank his sharp teeth into the fleshy part on the side of her palm.

She bit her lip to hold back her shriek of pain.

It felt like being stabbed with acid-filled needles, the burn of venom forking its way through her flesh. Without thought, needing to remove the pain, she slammed her fist against her leg, bile rising in her throat when she felt the mushy crunch of bones as she squashed the small body.

The little bugger fluttered to the ground, before dragging himself to his feet, taking a few running steps and launching himself into the air, his wings fluttering like mad.

She’d caught up with the kid and realized that he was slowing down, the poison making his reflexes sluggish. That would be the fate of everyone with her if she didn’t act now.

Kincade said to trust her instincts, so Morgan took a leap of faith, called up her magic, closed her eyes and allowed it to guide her. Magic surged up from her bones like a static charge snapping along her skin. The marks on her back became heavy and cold, the only part of her body not infused with power. Magic flowed out of her like a swirl of wind, and she followed the tug as it guided her.

“Morgan!” Kincade grabbed her arm, the momentum nearly knocking her off her feet as he dragged her to a stop.

Her eyes snapped open, and she was ready to yell at him, until she saw the savage vista spread out before them. They were on a ridge overlooking a wild river that swept through a narrow valley some hundred feet below them.

He’d barely managed to stop her from running blindly over the edge.

Her chest heaved as she struggled for air while the rest of the guys took up a protective stance around her, but instinct said it wouldn’t be enough. The kid could barely stand. Everyone in their group had a number of bites, chunks of flesh missing, including Ascher and Ryder in their alternate forms.

The hum of the demented otherworld insects grew louder with each breath.

They would be here within a few heartbeats.

Morgan studied the raging water below her, hesitated for a second, then sighed. “Well, hell.”

She turned and walked away from the ledge, tying her hair back into a ponytail, muttering to herself about stupidity, ignoring the guys watching her, not wanting them to guess her intent until it was too late. Then she whirled, took off running, and launched herself over the ledge.

The guys yelled her name, including a few other very uncomplimentary rebukes, a couple of them peering at her over the ledge as she fell. Ryder’s shaggy form followed only seconds after hers, and she saw a light engulf him as he transformed mid-fall.

Wind whipped by her, and she braced herself for impact, knowing hitting the water’s surface was going to hurt like a bitch.

She wasn’t wrong.

Her feet hit first, pain slamming up her legs, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs. Icy water closed over her head as she was plunged under the choppy surface. Once her downward momentum stopped, she swam to the surface, ignoring the tug of the current. Ryder plunged underwater just a few feet away.

She broke the surface in time to see the rest of the men hit the water with a giant splash.

She’d barely managed to take a few hurried breaths when she saw the black cloud follow them over the cliff.

Sucking in one last breath, Morgan ducked under the water, cursing the small shapes that hovered across the surface, waiting for them to emerge. The guys were treading water next to her as the current dragged them all downstream.

Then she felt something snag her ankle. She could do nothing as she watched the men being carried away. Morgan reached down, grabbing the strand of seaweed that had caught around her ankle. As soon as she untangled one strand, another seemed to rise up and latch around her…and another and another.

It took her brain precious seconds to realize that the strands weren’t seaweed, but tentacles, and they were pulling her farther and farther under the surface. As she neared the bottom, piles of gleaming white stones stole her attention.

No, not stones.

Skulls.

And if she didn’t take some kind of action, her bones would quickly be joining them. She glanced around the murky water, but couldn’t see more than a few feet in any direction.

She couldn’t identify the source of the threat.

Despite the icy cold water, the metal cuff around her wrist melted, twirling down her hand to form a knife, and she began to hack away at the persistent strands that had wrapped themselves all the way up her leg to her knees.

Fragments of green algae began to pollute the water like blood, the texture slimy as she tried to swipe it off her skin.

The lack of air began to make her chest ache.

Water churned violently around her, and a form began to lift off the bottom of the river in the shape of a large horse.

A kelpie.

His hide was a mossy green and black, a slight fluorescence emanating from him until he glowed. The combination of color and light made him appear as if he was decomposing, like the beast had fallen into the water a week ago and begun to decay, not realizing it was dead. The wild mane and tail were tentacles of seaweed, the once-majestic horse now resembling the Grim Reaper’s steed.

The kelpie lunged at her, teeth snapping, streaking toward her like a damn fish. She brought up her blade, lashing out, catching him across his neck, and more algae exploded into the water. He reared back, but her movements were so sluggish, she barely got out of the way of his slashing hooves in time. He neighed in rage, snapping his brown-stained teeth at her, the reverberating sound hurting her chest more than her ears. Strings of slime stretched along the edges of his lips when he opened his mouth wide, making his flesh look like it was being pulled apart. Malicious, red-rimmed eyes latched onto her, the whites a jaundiced yellow.

He was hungry, and she was the new snack on the menu.