Page 124 of The Witch in the Dead of Night

“Wightgasts?” I rasped.

He nodded, his voice echoing in my mind. Yes.

My jaw clamped shut. I strained my ears for signs of their approach, magic bubbling sluggishly beneath the surface of my skin.

They’re close, he warned as his eyes scanned the tree line. I squinted in a feeble attempt to see through the darkness, but whatever he was seeing was beyond my sight. Something rustled through the brush and I froze.

Remember what I told you, he thought, sliding the serpent dagger into my open palm. My fingers went white as they curled around its hilt. They may have appeared docile last time, but they will rip us apart if they get too close. Fire is your best weapon, but if all else fails, a sharp blade to the skull will do just fine.

Any other advice?

Enhart squeezed my arm, flashing a fleeting grin. “Stay alive.”

Three wightgasts lumbered out of the trees, each as horrifying as the next. Without the ward to protect us, I found myself fixated on their sharp, broken teeth and razor-like claws. The brush rustled beneath their naked feet. Their movements were jolting as they circled us, their bloodshot eyes nearly glowing in the darkness.

Enhart shoved me behind him shortly before the closest creature lunged. The prince bared his fangs and met it, wrapping his arms lithely around its neck. They hit the ground with a smack as the scent of blood and sweat filled the air. Seizing a fistful of its matted hair, Enhart ripped the creature’s head off and sent it flying across the clearing. My stomach churned as some foul substance oozed out of its corpse.

Before Enhart could find his footing again, a second wightgast threw itself on top of him, sinking its claws into his flesh. “No!” I cried. Opening my palms, I released a plume of fire that was more smoke than flame. It hit the creature square in the back of the head, singeing its skin and releasing the acrid stench of burned hair into the air. Enhart kicked out and I winced as the wightgast’s chest caved in with a gruesome crack, sending it flailing backward in a cloud of smoke and fire. At my command, the fire burned the creature until it no longer thrashed.

“Look out!” shouted Enhart.

I spun in time to raise a ward against another wightgast that had approached me from behind, eager to sink its claws into my gut while I was otherwise distracted. Inches from my face, I recoiled at its foul breath that reeked of decay. The beast ricocheted off my ward, hitting the ground with a thud. I sent a stream of fire sailing through the air in an arc, wrapping it around the wightgast like a rope. It wailed as its skin peeled off the bone until there was nothing left where it had once stood but charred earth.

I yelped as Enhart raised his steel dagger and flung it in my direction. It sailed over my shoulder and landed with a thud. Spinning on one heel, I recoiled as another wightgast fell to what was left of its knees, the knife sticking out of its chin. Enhart appeared at my side and grabbed the hilt of the knife, bringing it upwards and cleaving the monster’s head in half. I clapped a hand over my mouth, tasting bile. Enhart’s lip curled as he sent the corpse flying with a swift kick, leaving a trail of black sludge in its wake.

I doubled over with a stitch in my side, my ragged breath the only sound in the empty woods around us. My gaze flicked to Enhart. There was hardly a scratch on him. Vampires, I nearly groaned. He locked eyes with me as he brushed debris from his shoulders. “Well done,” he said. “Although I’m a little concerned you may have overexerted yourself.”

I squeezed my eyes shut as my surroundings swam. “You weren’t so bad yourself,” I managed.

He grabbed me by the elbow. “Don’t you dare faint on me now, Erramun,” he warned.

I managed a weak laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He peeled off his boots, ignoring the bewildered look on my face as he helped me into them. “You need them more than I do,” was all he said.

They were too big, but I relished the warmth that began to creep back into my toes as he knelt before me. I watched him silently as he tightened the laces, the supple leather molding around my feet. My fingertips brushed his shoulder as I willed myself not to keel over. “Thank you,” I said, shivering.

“Be careful not to trip in those,” he advised, straightening. “Let’s go.”

He placed his hand on the small of my back, ushering me ahead of him. I didn’t dare look at the carnage left in our wake. We set off through the brush, our footsteps muffled by the fallen pine needles that carpeted the path ahead.

I sat on a chaise longue with my feet tucked under me. I was still wrapped in Enhart’s cloak, his muddied boots drying by the hearth. The fire crackled as I shifted, combing my fingers through my hair to loosen the clods of dirt and pine needles. The breeze drifted in through the cracked window, disturbing the candles that had burned down to their wicks. The dwindling flames flickered, their shadows dancing on the walls.

The prince paced the length of the room, tossing our belongings into our packs by the handful. He had escaped our encounter with the wightgasts with barely a hair out of place. The monsters’ claw marks had healed before we had even made it back to the rooms. All that remained was the anger that he took no effort to conceal from me. It radiated off of him like a flame threatening to scorch anyone who ventured too close.

“You cannot drag her into the night,” reasoned Agnes, hopping out of his path as he stalked toward my bedchamber. She and the Chancellor had followed us from the moment we entered the grounds, peppering me with questions despite Enhart’s best efforts to shoo them away. I’d recounted my experience as hurriedly as possible.

Enhart had written a hasty message to Mordric and stuffed it into Sebastian’s hands, ordering him to deliver it to Valnar without delay or lose his head. The librarian didn’t protest.

“If there are still wightgasts in those woods,” said Agnes, “you cannot safely pass through the forest until daybreak.”

“And you think that she’s safe here?” Enhart snapped, emerging with a pile of garments that he stuffed unceremoniously into my pack. “They’ve already taken her once. I won’t let it happen again.”

“They took her from outside our walls,” she replied, her tone even. “The school’s wards were never breached.”

“You think you can escape responsibility because they took her a mere ten feet from your doorstep? You and this entire institution are at fault.”

I sipped from a tumbler of whiskey, the smoky liquid warming me from the inside out as it spilled down my throat. Enhart had forced it into my hands the moment we arrived, assuring me that it would bring me some comfort.