BooksBarbecue
Back We Are Blood and Thunder
Chapters (32)
  1. PROLOGUE
  2. ONE
  3. TWO
  4. THREE
  5. FOUR
  6. FIVE
  7. SIX
  8. SEVEN
  9. EIGHT
  10. NINE
  11. TEN
  12. ELEVEN
  13. TWELVE
  14. THIRTEEN
  15. FOURTEEN
  16. FIFTEEN
  17. SIXTEEN
  18. SEVENTEEN
  19. EIGHTEEN
  20. NINETEEN
  21. TWENTY
  22. TWENTY-ONE
  23. TWENTY-TWO
  24. TWENTY-THREE
  25. TWENTY-FOUR
  26. TWENTY-FIVE
  27. TWENTY-SIX
  28. TWENTY-SEVEN
  29. TWENTY-EIGHT
  30. TWENTY-NINE
  31. EPILOGUE
  32. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

She knew it instinctively: if Constance succeeded, this was the end. The spell and Lena were twined together, and she would die without it.

Hot tears ran from her eyes and soaked her hair where it met her temples. And then, through her tears, a faintly glowing speck—like a ghost—slid over her vision, lit by purple mage-light and yellow fire. The butterfly fluttered around her head, spewing puffs of cloud. Another dream? It had left her to face the dark alone. And suddenly footsteps sounded on the stairs.

“Lena?”

She felt a stab of pain so deep her vision started to fade, the butterfly wavering before her eyes as if it had been plunged into water. Constance was easing the spell from her like a stubborn weed from hard ground. The blank mask remained focused on its task.

The voice again. “Lena!”

Emris?

“Constance? What are you doing?” His voice was tight with shock.

But it was as if the masked lady hadn’t noticed. And that meant Lena was imagining it. A dream, just a dream. The spell’s heart was tethered to her by a thread, her own heartbeat wild and confused. The butterfly landed on her nose, flapping its wings slowly. She swore she felt the tiny impressions of its legs on her skin.

TWENTY-SIX

Hunting the Storm

The girl had passed, at last. In seconds, Constance knew, she would be in full control of the spell, her spell. Expectation flooded her body with a thrill so blissful it was nearly ecstatic. Again, she rested her left arm against the girl’s heart—now quiet—and the spell rose up, untethered. She felt the power start to flow inside her metal arm, the empty receptacle for which she had sacrificed her own flesh.

Lena’s story was ending.

Hers was just beginning.

“Constance!” A familiar voice pulled her aggressively from her trancelike state, and the magic slipped through her fingers like sand. Her eyes flickered to the doorway.

“Emris?” she managed. She hadn’t realized how exhausted she was, but now the thrill had rushed away and left her panting and shaking, a cold sweat on her brow. Emris’s scarred face was twisted with rage. He raised a hand, and the power hit her like a hammer. She shot off to the side, landing on a corpse that let off a cloud of desiccated flesh, covering her in a film of greasy gray. She breathed and instantly coughed, choking on the foul dust trapped under her mask.

She pulled it off and saw Emris at Lena’s side, shaking her. “Lena? Lena?” The desperation on his face, the…

The love.