RISING (#2, of Crows and Thorns)

Chapter 42

"Do it!"

The Văduvas were a house of hunters who worked for the Förstners. The Head of Lower House Văduva was female, and her family members and servants were few, but they were exceptional—including her right-hand woman, Petra. The Văduvas hunted the forests for lesser creatures and the concrete jungle for mortals. But they didn't have the Crowther bloodline running through them. They didn't have strength and speed. And right now, both were needed.

Petra's thick springy hair, pulled back into a dense ponytail, danced as she whirled around to face those remaining, ushering out a stream of commands.

I jabbed a finger toward one of the pale-faced servants. "Find Sirro!" I had no fucking idea where the Horned God was. We might be able to thwart Jurgana's beasts, but without Sirro to stop Jurgana the bloodshed would be endless. "Tear the mansion apart if you need to. Find the Horned God, now!"

Petra spun back to me. She shouted once again in her husky voice—a jarring reminder. "Varen, Byron's out there!"

Hells-gate. Byron.

I rubbed my face with my free hand. "Byron's out there?!"

Last I knew Byron was railing his fists against Laurena's door demanding his sister awaken. I thought more than likely he'd probably be safely tucked up in bed, or his bodyguards had him stashed somewhere safe.

Shit, shit, shit—

What the fuck was he doing?

The children... Byron would be doing exactly as we intended— going out there to bring them in. And that thought led to Tabitha—if she were safe. My chest tightened and a cold feeling seeped into my blood. I hoped she was still inside the mansion and hadn't been drawn out here by sounds of chaos like Byron likely had. I tore my mind from Tabitha, whirled around, and scanned the lawn, searching for Byron.

Those grotesque half-formed beasts lumbered ahead of Jurgana while a third of her dogs hunted the soldiers deeper in the lawn, some starting to head toward the scattered kids. Jurgana's bedmates devoured anything in their way, and her flock of crows flew overhead. The birds were amassing over the servants bunching up in the middle of the lawn.

What the hells are the birds doing?

They were circling above like the outer wind bands of a hurricane.

I had a terrible feeling I should know what those birds were doing, but I was too distracted with trying to find Byron amongst all the carnage.

Petra bounded to my side. Her eyebrows drew over her dark brown eyes as she searched the lawn. I pushed back the locks of hair that had come free and swung in front of my face. "Where the fuck is he?!"

"I can't see him any longer!" she replied, shaking her head. "But he was near the eastern side!"

There was no more time to give to Byron.

I needed to get ahead of the children and annihilate any beast coming their way. My sister had the eastern side and I'd take the western flank. "Get the children. I'll take Jurgana's beasts!" I yelled to Petra.

Petra lunged into motion, crying out to her hunters to follow. Moonlight struck her curved daggers, making them gleam against her emerald dress as her long, lean legs chewed through the distance toward the first fleeing child. Her team, comprised mostly of those from her House, were right behind her. She shouted orders, splitting them up into units—a small team of protectors for each of those who'd carry the kids back to safety.

I opened a leather pocket in my bandoleer and fished out a ceramic vial. Tossing it upward, I swiftly unsheathed the second sword from my back. Before the vial descended, I slashed and shattered it into shards that spun away, lost amongst the crushed grass and pools of mud. White-hot energy exploded and coursed down the length of each adamere blade, the humming sensation strumming against my palms and reverberating along my bones. My swords, crackling and sparking with unleashed lightning, were a beacon against the waves of darkness, silhouetted against the whirling mist and blue-tinged flames of wildfyre from torches that had fallen and were now eating the lawn and consuming straw bales. I relaxed my muscles, loosening joints, and began to rotate the swords in a swinging arc—faster, faster, faster—in a blur of adamere and might. It created a whirring sound that beckoned death.