Wolves and the River of Stone Read Free Page B

struck out between the church and the graveyard with a loping stride.
    His head snapped around and stared at me before a small smile lifted his face. “Ah, perfect. Just the inspiration she needs.” He took a step toward me. “I’ll pull you apart into manageable pieces until she talks. Dismantle her favorite son.” His smile turned wicked, and the fire in his eyes was well beyond sane.
    “No, let me kill him.”
    Philip stopped and turned to the woman holding Zola. He shrugged and waved his hand dismissively. “Fine.”
    My left hand itched to grab the silver inlays on my staff, the staff I had given to Foster. One grab of the right rune would call a shield around me in a split second, faster than I could speak the incantation.
    Instead, my fingers traced the hilt of the focus tucked beneath my belt. It was the plain, leather-wrapped, silver and gray Magrasnetto hilt of an old Scottish claymore. Dime-sized holes spiraled up the grip at regular intervals, and channels ran down the sloping arms to the quatrefoil pattern at the ends. A wide hole gaped where the blade would normally be. An idea crept into my head and I looked around for Foster. He was nowhere to be seen. I cursed and turned my attention back to the woman holding Zola. Foster was going to get her the staff so she could shield herself from Philip; all I had to do was get her the focus.
    The blonde met my gaze. “I am Agnes Smythe. I am your death.” Her voice was almost peppy and it threw me off for a moment.
    A small laugh made me glance at Philip. The smirk on his face lit fantasies of eviscerating him and feeding him whatever fell out.
    I was about to fire off a witty retort, but Agnes elbowed Zola in the mouth with a vicious strike. Zola’s head snapped back and I could hear the crack of bone from fifteen feet away. She crumpled to the ground in a heap. Through the rage in my gut I still felt a hint of relief as her hands moved to cover her face when Agnes put her foot back on Zola’s neck.
    With that, Foster had seen enough. The seven-foot fairy dropped silently out of the tree behind them, swinging my staff on a downward angle. He connected with Agnes’s head. The crack was sickening. She jerked violently to one side and her foot fell away from Zola. Agnes staggered forward before flailing to the ground.
    “Zola!” I said as I stepped forward, pulled my right arm back, and whipped the focus at her. It spiraled toward her on an almost perfect angle and the handle made a loud snap as she caught it.
    Blood coursed over Zola’s teeth as she stood up and smiled a death’s head grin. Her right hand wrapped around the staff as Foster let go and the hilt of the focus was in her left. She pointed the hilt at the base of Agnes’s neck and grabbed the rune near the top ferrule on the staff. Zola’s body stiffened as her aura was forced through the focus and honed into a deep red aural blade, wrapped in a cacophony of blue, gold, and silver filaments. Agnes didn’t even get to scream before the vibrating blade relieved her shoulders of their heavy burden. The ground beneath her hissed and popped as the blade shot home and Zola wrenched it to the side.
    Philip stared at the decapitated body for a moment, then slowly raised his eyes to Zola. “That was wasteful.”
    A tinge of ozone reached my nostrils as I ran to stand beside Zola.
    “Now, Philip,” she said as she wiped her sleeve across her bloody mouth. “We finish this.”
    Philip made a fist and snarled, “Pulsatto!” A wave of force erupted from his incantation. Zola’s hand moved to the shield rune and a flowing shell sprang up around us, dissipating the force of the attack. Philip took a step backwards, his brows drawn together, and then he turned to run.
    I was sure I could see relief on Zola’s face as Philip made his escape. “Let him leave.” Her words were thick, like she had a jawbreaker tucked in the side of her mouth. She fell to her knees and hung her head as she let out a