It didn’t like what I was saying, but I felt its begrudging agreement. The demon knew I was right. Azi gave a snarl of frustration and changed direction. “We need that locket. Where is it?”
“Yes,” another voice said. It was followed by a haggard wheeze and a cackle. “Do tell us, witch. Where’s this…locket?”
A moment later, four figures came into view. They were all unnaturally tall with an almost skeletal silhouette and a slight limp. They moved in perfect sync with each other, shuffling in time until they stepped into a thin beam of moonlight coming through the trees.
Azi straightened and moved my body to stand between the newcomers and Sam. “Tracker,” it said.
“Aziraaak.” The word came in a low rumble. The decaying things snickered, speaking and moving as one. “I heaaard aaabout your recent…misfortune. Tell me, whaaat it is like to let such power slip through your fingers?”
The demon was confused. “Misfortune? What do you—”
“Me,” Sam said. She stepped up beside me, arms folded and expression fierce. She was scared. I couldn’t see the gray smoke I knew must be bleeding into the air around her, but I could taste it. But fear had never stopped Samantha Merrick. “Which kinda makes me wonder if you’re suicidal.”
The Trackers laughed again, a cracked, grating sound, and pinned Sam with an amused tilt of its blue lips. “Insinuaaating thaaat I should feaar you? Aaan insolent child who knows nothing aaabout the energy coursing through her fraaail humaaan body?”
Anger replaced the taste of fear on my tongue. Sam squared her shoulders and took a single step forward. The Tracker had nailed her sore spot. She hadn’t said anything, but I knew she’d been trying to find a way to tap into the energy inside her. “Well, if you’re sure, then by all means—give it a try.”
“There is no need for more violence,” the Trackers said in unison. They smiled, a mouthful of decaying teeth peeking out from behind each pair of thin, chapped lips. “Haaand over the witch aaand I will let you leaaave in one piece. You caaan enjoy aaa few hours of freedom before Maaaster Zenaaak comes for you.”
Azi settled beside her, and my mouth tipped with a grin. “You think it will be that easy? To take what is mine?” It was talking about Sam.
She’s mine, asshole.
The Trackers laughed again. “You seem unaaable to use the humaaan.” They leaned in and winked. The way they moved, in perfect sync, was fucking creepy. “I promise you thaaat Zenaaak will have no such problem. In faaact, I raaather think the Maaaster will enjoy the process of getting the humaaan’s cooperaaation.”
Without another word, the four Trackers charged as one. Azi pushed Sam sideways. I was vaguely aware that she crashed to the ground, taking Van along with her.
Look out!
A withered fist connected with the underside of my jaw. The blow rocked my body back, and Azi stumbled, unable to avoid the preceding attack.
What followed was a series of bone-shattering blows as all four of the Trackers converged. The breath hitched in my lungs and everything swam. Azi blinked and the landscape bowed before tipping dramatically to the left. A sense of weightlessness came over me.
Get up! Get my ass off the fucking ground.
But the demon was beat. Someone screamed. Azi tried to turn my head to see who it was—sound had taken on a hollow kind of quality—but it was no use. Everything was spinning at light speed.
With great effort, the demon lifted my arms, thrust out and blindly groped for something to pull my body upright. After a moment of searching, my fingertips brushed jagged bark. Azi used the solid surface to drag me vertical.
“Aaas determined aaas ever,” the Trackers spat. They surrounded me. Each wore an identical expression, and the only difference between them was that one had something sharp and cool pressed against my throat. “Zenaaak will undoubtedly be furious thaaat I’ve killed you, but when I return the Brim Stone to him, I think aaall will be forgiven.”
The blade pressed down, and I felt it break the skin. The sting of it permeated every nerve in my body, sending a wicked chill to my core. It wasn’t a normal blade. This was something Azi truly feared. A weapon forged in the fires of hell. The Tracker’s lips parted, a victorious grin slipped into place, and it pushed a little harder on the blade.
But before Zenak’s lackey could finish the job, something slammed into me. I hit the ground again, the weight of the blade gone as everything slowly leeched back into focus.
Sam stood above me, facing off against the four Trackers like an angel. No. A warrior. Even in the dark, I could see her clearly—the stubborn set of her jaw, and her strong, unyielding frame. She was a protective barrier between my body and the Trackers, and the glow Heckle said she had, the one I’d never noticed, was suddenly so obvious. “Another step closer and I’ll roast you.”