Sabine scrubbed a hand across her eyes as though to wipe away the memory, and I could understand why. If those glimpses I’d had of fangs and claws were real, I could only imagine what she’d looked like in her entirety.
As if on cue, a chilling howl filled the air. Then another. And another. Those lupine creatures that had flanked her throne, with fangs as long as my hand. I’d only seen the pair of them, but judging from the howls, there were more. We needed to get behind the castle walls.
I met Sabine’s terrified gaze. “Run.”
Chapter Eight
Cécile
Before we could take a step, three pony-sized wolves stepped out of the blizzard, blocking our path. Their white fur was misty and insubstantial, but their snarls were real enough.
“Back, back,” I hissed, dragging Sabine with me until we were up against an ironwork fence, her hands fumbling with the gun as she reloaded. Leveling the weapon, she fired at one of the creatures, but it passed through with no effect.
“What do we do?” she hissed.
I clenched my teeth, wishing I had an answer. The Queen knew Tristan and I were bonded and what that meant. If she’d wanted to kill him, I wouldn’t still be standing. She wanted to lure him out, which meant her monsters wouldn’t kill me. But there was nothing to stop them from slaughtering Sabine.
“They have to be solid,” Sabine whispered. “I can’t shoot them if they’re not solid.”
“If they aren’t solid, they can’t bite.” Spotting a coal shovel leaning against a wall, I snatched it up and took a step forward.
One of the creatures sprung, solidifying mid-air, but my shovel caught it in the shoulder. It yelped and staggered, but was back at me in an instant, teeth snapping just out of reach of my weapon. I attacked again, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw the others creeping around me. Trying to get at Sabine.
I stumbled back, pressing her against the protection of the fence, brandishing my shovel. “Help,” I shouted. “Someone help us.” But the streets were empty, everyone hiding from the danger in the skies.
Sabine gasped, and I whirled around. One of the creatures had caught hold of her dress through the bars of the fence, and it had her pinned against the metal. She fired her gun, and the wolf exploded into snow and ice, but before she could reload one of the other creatures swiped a paw at the weapon, knocking it from her hand. It hissed, paw smoking where it had impacted the steel, but now there was nothing to keep it from attacking her. I lunged toward my friend, but a massive weight hit me between the shoulders and I went face first into the snow.
“No!” I jammed the handle of the shovel into the slavering maw behind my shoulder, and was rewarded with a sizzle and a cry of pain. Scrambling on my hands and knees, I swung at the haunches of the creatures stalking toward Sabine, but claws sank into my skirts, dragging me away. I rolled onto my back, jabbing the shovel at the paws holding me down. But I was losing the battle. I couldn’t get free and Sabine wouldn’t be able to hold them off. They were going to kill her.
From this distance, Tristan could help Sabine. Could pluck her out of the danger I put her in. But with the snow blinding his view, he’d need my guidance. And to do that, I’d have to use his name.
“Don’t do it, Cécile,” Sabine shouted as though sensing my thoughts. “She’s watching!”
I shrieked every expletive I knew at the opening between worlds and the queen standing just beyond, her face twisted with pain and expectation. Teeth closed on the heel of my boot, dragging me her direction. I swiped at the tear, but the shovel passed through as though it were empty air. Letting Sabine die wasn’t an option – I wouldn’t let it happen. I started to pull Tristan’s name from the depths of my mind, when the sharp squeal and the stench of burning fur and flesh pulled me back into the moment.
One of the fairy wolves was pressed against the iron fence by some invisible force, while another two were dashed against the wall of a building. There was a flurry of motion, and three shapes descended on the scene, two tall and one cloaked in shadow. Steel blades sliced through the air, the wolves exploding into sprays of snow and ice. The shadowed figure strode toward me, and the pressure on my heel released. When I looked back over my shoulder, the creatures that had been restraining me were gone.
Warm tendrils of magic lifted me to my feet, but I brushed them away and flung myself at my friend. “Marc!” The fine wool of his cloak was blissfully warm against my frozen cheek, and I let the shovel fall from my numb fingers with a clatter. “What are you doing here?”
“Saving your scrawny behind,” Vincent answered for him, picking up my shovel and examining it. “Your choice of weapon is somewhat suspect, Cécile. It’s a good thing Marc has heard your shrieks for help before and recognized them.”