Total pages in book: 401
Estimated words: 390373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1952(@200wpm)___ 1561(@250wpm)___ 1301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 390373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1952(@200wpm)___ 1561(@250wpm)___ 1301(@300wpm)
I took off and plunged my sword into the base of one’s neck. There was no time to give the grul the respect of being laid down as a large man leapt toward Setti. I let the grul fall onto its face with a smack that made me wince and shot forward faster than intended. I bumped into the back of the grul and realized I had shadowstepped. I bounced off the man’s large frame, luckily catching myself before I fell.
“Nice,” I muttered.
The grul spun, too close for me to catch him under the chin. Jaw clenching, I swung, arcing the blade up. The bloodstone cut through the grul’s neck with the smoothness of a hot blade through wax. Blood sprayed, smelling sickly sweet like stale lilacs. The head fell as the body crumpled—
Sharp, fiery pain erupted down my forearm, startling me. “Fuck.”
I twisted to see the top of a snowy white head latched onto my arm. I swung the sword—
The older woman—the grul—lurched back, its milky-white eyes wide as blood trickled from the corners of its mouth. My blood. Gritting my teeth at the pain, I stepped toward it.
The grul spun and darted across the street, leaving me standing with my sword half-raised and my arm burning.
I frowned. “Okay, then.”
Setti nudged me from behind, causing me to stumble. I turned, shaking my arm as if it could somehow lessen the pain. “Go back to the castle.”
Setti’s ears flicked.
“It’s not safe for you here.”
He snorted and slammed a hoof down.
He definitely understood.
“Go.” I patted his side, ignoring the fiery pain. It was already beginning to fade. “Go, Setti.” I met his stare, letting the eather rise to the surface. “Now.”
Tossing his mane and snorting, he turned and took off in a trot.
“Poppy.” Casteel grabbed my right shoulder and spun me around. “You’re hurt.” His gaze zeroed in on my left arm as I looked him over. Of course, his shirt had remained pristine. “Son of a bitch.”
“Eight,” I said.
His gaze snapped to mine, his dark brows slashing together.
“How many did you get?”
He stared for a moment. “You’re not going to like my answer.” He took my arm, carefully peeling back the sleeve of the cloak. I kept my expression blank, my thoughts away from what was happening as the material snagged on the torn skin. He inhaled sharply. “Fifteen.”
My eyes narrowed. “That’s bullshit.”
“And you’re actually blocking your pain,” he said.
Surprise made me jolt. “Really?” A grin spread across my lips. “Finally.”
His stare hardened. “Only you would smile at that.” He looked away. “Where’s Kieran—? Damn it.” His gaze returned to mine as he remembered he’d sent Kieran away. “We’re heading back—”
“No, we’re not. The pain is already fading.” I glanced down at my arm, seeing that the wound had already stopped bleeding. “It’s healing. I’m fine.”
“Poppy—” Casteel frowned as he did a double take. “What the…?”
I turned, following his gaze. An elderly grul was…twisted around, its lifeless eyes meeting mine. Its head cocked. I stalked forward, twirling the sword—
“Where do you think it’s going?” Casteel drawled, dropping my arm.
I frowned as the grul climbed the trellis on a home. “That’s the one that bit me.”
We watched as the grul reached the top and pulled itself onto the slightly pitched roof. It scrambled across the tiles on all fours like…some sort of mortal spider.
Mortal spider?
Why in all the realms would I think that? Because now, all I could think about was a hairy mortal with eight legs—
The grul reached the peak of the roof and threw its head back, letting out an ear-piercing screech. Both Casteel and I jerked at the sound as it echoed and then splintered into a thin, chittering noise that lifted the hairs on the nape of my neck.
Up and down the street, the gruls stopped in mid-run and lifted blood-smeared faces. They slowly turned…toward us.
“Uh,” I murmured.
Glass shattered across the street, spraying into the air as a grul crashed through the window, landing in a messy sprawl of limbs. The repeated sound of breaking glass echoed down the street. The gruls stood, pieces of glass falling from the clothing they had died in, their heads turning toward us.
“I think we can assume that was some sort of call,” Casteel remarked. “How’s the arm?”
“Barely hurts.”
He nodded quickly. “Good. There are about twenty of them.” His stance widened. “And you’re behind.”
Before I could respond to that or point out the strangeness of them all focusing on us, the gruls surged forward in unison.
“Ready yourself,” Casteel murmured, lifting his sword.
There was no time to think. The first grul lunged, its jaws snapping inches from Casteel’s face. He twisted, bringing the sword up in a quick, brutal arc. Bloodstone cut through flesh and bone, severing the grul’s head so quickly it barely made any noise. The body fell forward as another took its place, going straight for Casteel.