Her.
The hound halted an arm’s length away from her, clearly unable to take the last step. His gaze flickered to the marks on her arms, before he finally shuffled forward, stopping an inch short of touching her outstretched hand.
Morgan didn’t hesitate. The instant she touched the collar, the magic from the metal crawled up her arms like fire ants, the stinging bites almost making her jerk away.
The damned thing was booby-trapped!
She gritted her teeth against the pain, refusing to release her hold. The magic inside the collar was darker, its intent clearly meant to do more than force him to obey—it was meant to kill him after he completed his mission.
The collar was old. The hound had been resisting the magic for a long time, and she realized with horror that it was programed to slowly tighten in response to his defiance, until the pain would eventually drive him insane—if the collar didn’t decapitate him first.
The magic woven into the metal tried to sink beneath her skin, only to meet resistance and dissipate when her own magic rose from her bones in retaliation. The metal began to stretch as she pulled, her muscles straining, when the two sides finally snapped apart in her hand.
The lash of the broken spell jolted into her so hard she was knocked off her feet, crashing hard on her ass.
The spell shattered, and red, sparkling dust floated in the air, leaving her ears ringing.
The hound yipped, scrambling backwards, a brutal snarl rumbling in his chest…only to stop abruptly when he caught sight of what remained of the collar gripped in her hands. Smoke rose from where his paws rested on the ground, the beast clearly agitated.
His neck was scraped raw, the flesh beneath scarred and scabbed over many times. Without the collar in the way, she also saw deep claw marks carved into his hide where he obviously tried to claw the collar off his neck, nearly killing himself in the process.
She dropped the collar, bile rising in her throat when she saw patches of his skin were still attached to it.
Morgan pushed herself up on her hands and knees, peering at him from under her lashes, whispering one word under her breath. “Run.”
The hound didn’t hesitate, bounding into the tree line and disappearing in seconds.
The elves swore, a few of them taking a few steps to give chase, when their leader spoke.
“Leave him.” He stared directly at her, malice simmering in his blue eyes. “We have what we need. We leave before the fog descends.”
When they reached for her, Ward stepped between them, snapping off his own cuffs as he did so. When the elves brought up their weapons, Morgan staggered to her feet and came to stand next to Ward.
“Put your weapons away.” The leader turned away from them with a smirk. “They’ll follow of their own accord…if they want to see their friends alive.”
Her friends? He meant the students—her brain stuttered with the knowledge—they were alive and here in the primordial realm?
But how long would they remain that way?
A chill slowly invaded her soul, and she began to wonder about the attack on the Academy. The fight had been too organized, the creatures arriving without warning.
Which meant the attack on the Academy hadn’t been random.
Someone from the primordial realm had orchestrated the assault.
Chapter Six
Morgan thought the creatures who attacked the Academy were after her because of her bloodline, but now she wondered if there might be another reason.
Get rid of the Academy, and there would be no one to police the paranormals in the human realm.
They would be able to take over the planet without anyone to stop them.
When she tried to imagine why, only one answer came to her.
The fog.
There was something sinister in the mist that was slowly invading every nook and cranny of this world. She sensed it the last time she visited the primordial realm—something malevolent and hungry hiding in the misty shadows.
The elves mentioned it twice, their fear almost palpable, which meant the fog was spreading.
Ever since Atlas learned of her bloodlines, he was convinced she was the only one who could save the realm, always staring at her speculatively—but fuck!—she couldn’t even manage her pathetic love life. How was she supposed to save the world?
None of the books she’d scoured over the past two months provided any answers.
Apparently her time had run out.
The creatures of the realm had given up on finding a way to fix their world, and decided to take over hers instead.
Her duty to protect the human world fought against her loyalty and need to find her men.
The decision was easy…she would not be able to repel the attacking army on her own. If she wanted to save both worlds, she needed help, which meant she needed the assassins…and her men.
Her relief almost brought her to her knees.
She wasn’t sure she would’ve been able to abandon them, even if it meant saving the human race.
One of the elves approached her with another set of cuffs, and she rolled her eyes, lifting her free hands for emphasis. “Do you really think those would stop me?”
His mouth tightened at her snarky tone, but he tucked away the cursed cuffs.
“Let’s move.” The leader was so confident and cocky in his control over them, the bastard didn’t even bother to glance at them as he passed.
Ward growled under his breath next to her, but surprisingly fell into step next to her when she followed the others.
Two majestic moons rose in the sky, the silvery light illuminating the foreign world around them, tree branches obscuring the full view of the sky. The same couldn’t be said for the view of planet Earth. The large planet had turned so she could see the beautiful swirls of endless ocean, a small landmass only a hint under the wispy white clouds.
And Morgan was suddenly struck by what bothered her…the planet rotated, but never moved from its location in the sky.
“You need to move faster.” A rough shove sent her stumbling forward, but when she turned around to blast the guy, he wasn’t paying attention to her at all. No, his eyes were locked on the rising darkness around them. Though he didn’t show it, she caught a whiff of fear rising from him like the stench of rot.
They didn’t bat an eye at fighting Ward or her.
Practically gleeful about hunting a hellhound.
So what was stalking them that instilled such fear?
Suddenly worry for her men sent her stomach pitching up into her throat, and she mentally reached for the fragile connection binding them together.
Almost immediately turmoil flooded her mind, but she couldn’t pick up who it came from. The men were too far away for her to gauge more, the connection like a radio station a hair out of tune.
One moment, she could feel them, the next they were gone.
While she fought the connection at first, now that it was slowly fading, the loss devastated her.
While the brief contact meant the elves were taking them in the right direction, worry for her men had her quickening her pace until she began to pass their guards, Ward staying hard on her heels.
She kept watch on the rising darkness, and caught a glimpse of the hellhound stalking them every now and then, but kept the information to herself.
The elves couldn’t be trusted.
While Morgan didn’t think the hellhound had any interest in her, she was convinced she was missing something important. The hellhound wouldn’t have attacked the elves, not while he was so outnumbered. No, the hound must have been stalking her from the instant she came through the rift. But he was surprised to find her when he burst into the clearing. So, if the hellhound wasn’t after her, who did it want?
She glanced down at her arms in sudden understanding.
It had sensed her connection to another hellhound—Ascher.
That only left one question…was he friend or foe?
With eac
h step, the stone gargoyle she shoved down her shirt thumped painfully against the knotted muscles of her spine, the blasted thing feeling like a brand being pounded into her flesh.
The bird on the other hand appeared to have vanished, but Morgan had never been that lucky. A burning heat spread along her spine, inching up her back like a heating pad that had become uncomfortably warm after sitting too long.
She didn’t know if the creature had done something to her or possibly given her a nasty parting rash.
The damned thing probably had fleas.
The guys had warned her over and over never to trust anyone from the Primordial World. She’d foolishly listened to her instincts instead of their sage advice and now was paying the price, barely resisting the urge to scratch her back.
She couldn’t help but wonder how much her decision to help the bird would cost her.
Ward cast her a concerned, questioning look, and she shook her head slightly. There was nothing either of them could do. She would just have to wait it out and pray she wouldn’t come to regret her decision to help a wounded creature.
The fog around them increased gradually, snaking its way through the trees so subtly that she was startled when she saw it was everywhere.
Morgan wasn’t sure if she would even have noticed if it wasn’t for the way the elves were acting. They gathered closer, tightening their formation, picking up their pace, as if they were slowly being overwhelmed by terror.
She slowed her steps, curious to see what had motivated her cousin to hunt her down and try to sacrifice her so he could escape it. When she edged closer to a dense patch of fog, she noticed something weird about the mist.
It followed her movements like an animal locked on its prey.
She couldn’t see anything physically controlling its movements. No, it was more like the fog hosted a hungry parasite, and it had located its next meal. Just being near the mist sent nausea curling through her gut, and her skin flinched as if trying to pull itself off and run away.
Ward grabbed her arm when she lifted her hand to investigate. “You don’t want to do that.”
She watched the shrub next to them shudder as the fog slowly engulfed it. “What’s happening?”
When he didn’t answer, she glanced back at him, not reassured by his disturbed expression. “Watch.”
The leaves shriveled first, drifting to the ground like dust. The branches cracked with a loud snap, until only a snarl of twigs remained, the once robust plant resembling a thorny mess of brambles. Only then did the dense mist lift.
The fog didn’t suck the life out of the plant, but more like removed the magic and returned the once-beautiful shrub back to its original, deadly shape.
Morgan couldn’t help wondering if the fog was remaking the realm into something darker, or if it was returning the place to its original state and revealing the truth underneath all the magic the twelve families used to make the world habitable for themselves.
Now another force was determined to remove every trace of their work.
And if it could twist a plant like that, what would it do to the native wildlife, not to mention people?
“What the hell just happened?”
“This realm isn’t like Earth,” he chided her. “It was built by magic. The people of this place have taken too much. If this realm is to survive, a balance must be achieved—it’s taking back the magic.”
Morgan flinched at his harsh tone, disturbed not only by his uncaring attitude, but by what he was suggesting.
“Are you saying the fog will consume anything magical…including people?” She wanted him to deny it. Now they were so close to the fog, she could sense something twisted and malevolent hiding in the white folds. Even as she watched, a wisp of the fog broke off from the rest, then lashed out, almost faster than her eye could track, reaching for her.
Ward jerked her back, but not before she sensed a horrible wrongness in the mist.
Whatever that was, it wasn’t fog.
“The fog is a defense system, but it must be broken, tainted by something.” Ward released her but didn’t leave her side.
“We move. Now!” The leader of the elves slammed the end of his staff into her back, forcing her to move, treating Ward much the same way.
It took all her restraint to keep from grabbing the staff and ramming it up his ass.
She must have telegraphed her thoughts, because Ward stepped between her and the next not-so-gentle prodding. Suddenly worried about her team, she reached for the bonds again, then noticed the direction of the connection had split.
While she was still drawn forward, she also felt a tug in the opposite direction…away from the way they were heading.
When she would’ve veered off in that direction, Ward grabbed her arm. “The outpost is ahead.”
No matter how hard she tried to shrug him off, she couldn’t break his grip. “Something’s wrong. We need to go in the other way. Part of my team is out here.”
And they didn’t know about the dangers.
She had to warn them.
“And they would want you safe.” He shrugged, completely unconcerned about her men being in danger. Only when she opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind did he sigh and relent. “No doubt they sense you as well and know you are heading back toward the castle. They will follow you. If you go after them, your stubbornness will put them in more danger. Is that what you want?”
No, but the idea of abandoning them didn’t sit right with her either, and she wanted to smack him for being so reasonable.
“Do you know where we’re going?”
“It’s one of the outposts farthest from the capital—or it had been in my day.”
Which gave her exactly no information, and she gave up trying to pump him for more. Getting answers from him was like trying to squeeze water out of a rock.
The hellhound, who had been steadily keeping pace with them, suddenly veered left, launching himself in the direction of her men. She barely resisted taking off after the beast, the need to protect Ascher nearly overwhelming.
Morgan didn’t know if the mating marks were enforcing the compulsion.
She no longer cared.
Those men were hers, even if they no longer wanted her.
To take her mind off her worry, she concentrated on what she could control…her surroundings.
The fog seemed to trail after them, not actively pursuing, more like keeping an eye on them.
“What happens if the fog touches you?”
“You die,” one of the guards snapped, glancing at her like she was an idiot.
The Headmistress only told Morgan that she could put this world to rights, but Morgan didn’t have a damned clue what the Headmistress meant, or how she was to go about saving their realm from extinction.
“Does it have any weaknesses? When does it…hunt?” She needed to understand what was happening if she wanted to have any hope of solving the problem.
And she suspected Ward knew a lot more than he was saying.
“The mist rises at twilight and dissipates at sunrise,” the same elf reluctantly volunteered.
“So…similar to normal mist.” Which didn’t get her anywhere.
Ward gave her a weird glance, and she felt like she was missing something important. “You said that this realm was built.”
“Many millennia ago.”
She waved away his history lesson, then paused. Anything that old could only have been built by one thing…the old gods.
Her ancestors.
She barely held back a wince.
“What happens to the fog in the daylight? It doesn’t just fade.”
The talkative elf, the one who’d spoken less than a handful of words, answered. “The mass collects at the center of the forest, where the sun doesn’t reach.”
Before he could say more, the leader glared at him, then jerked his chin, and the talkative one moved toward the front of the line.
Her brows furrowed as she puzzle
d over his answer. When she glanced at Ward, she noted how he studiously avoided looking at her. “Where the sun doesn’t reach? Or where it collects to protect something that wants to remain hidden?”
A small smile curled the corners of his mouth, only to vanish a second later, and she knew she was on the right track.
Then there was no more time for questions.
They broke into a clearing, and she caught her first glimpse of the outpost.
It was a castle.
The necklace slithered across her collar, the links stretching thin until the chain disappeared into her shirt, becoming invisible to anyone who didn’t know to look for it.
Morgan took the hint…try not to call attention to herself.
The fortress was nothing like the castle she saw on her last visit to the capital, little resembling her beloved Academy. Instead, this monstrosity was a falling-down mess, nothing more than a heap of rubble remaining from a long-ago battle. The building was decrepit, the gray stones stained a gunky black that no amount of scrubbing would remove. What remained of the trees were withered. The grass was no longer a bright green, but a brittle brown that looked scraggly and trampled.
The fortress was not the safe haven she expected.
The leader must have noticed her unimpressed expression, and he scowled, clearly affronted by her lack of awe. “Every night, the mist creeps closer, inching farther and farther up the wall, consuming anything that contained magic in its wake. We’re the last outpost. Once this place falls, there is nothing to stop the cursed fog from advancing on the capital.”
He uttered the words like being appointed to serve at the outpost was a badge of honor, but she couldn’t shake the feeling he and his men had been abandoned to their fate, probably as a punishment for some crime they committed.
“What were you really hunting in the woods?” Because it sure as hell hadn’t been a peacekeeping mission to retrieve her and Ward.
The hint of smile on the elf’s face didn’t change, but his blue eyes darkened with a cold ruthlessness that stole her breath. “We were sent here to stop the fog. Few creatures are able to resist succumbing to the mist, and we collect them when we can and try to figure out a way to duplicate their immunity.”
Heart of the Assassins (An Academy of Assassins Novel Book 2) Page 6