“Whoa, you all right?” Meiner offered a hand, trying not to grin, and Dayna rolled her eyes before allowing herself to be tugged to her feet. “Look at that.”
There was a hole in the floor, a hollowed-out slot that had been dug beneath the ruins. Inside was a dirty burlap sack.
“Damn. Doesn’t look like anything.” Still, Meiner leaned forward and plucked at the cloth, and then blinked, startled at its weight. “Hold on, I think there might be something wrapped in this.”
Gingerly she eased the bundle of cloth out of the dirt, setting it down on the stone floor between them. Dayna hovered eagerly as Meiner tugged at the edges, trying to discern where it could be opened without damaging whatever was inside.
When the fabric finally fell away, Meiner’s heart stopped. Behind her Dayna let out a gasp. It was a book, bound in rich brown leather, closed at one side with a heavy golden clasp. There was a symbol etched on the front, the same spiky-edged rune that they’d seen over and over these last few weeks. The Butcher’s mark.
Dayna reached a shaking hand toward the clasp.
Meiner’s concentration was so centered on the book, her vision so laser-focused, that she didn’t react in time. She didn’t see the black shape hurtle itself through the entrance of the church, its mouth open in a silent snarl, until it was on top of them.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
DAYNA
There was a snarl, a blur in the air before her. Meiner shouted just as something crashed into Dayna’s left shoulder, slamming her to the ground. Air left her lungs in a rush, and her shoulder burned. A snarling mouth full of broken, jagged teeth filled her vision.
The creature lunged for her throat, teeth snapping, and then pulled back with a growl, shaking its head. Blood splattered from its face, and Dayna saw the bone charm had pierced its muzzle.
The shaking dislodged the charm, and it skittered across the mossy floor. The black dog crouched low to the ground, its blue eyes narrowed.
Human eyes, she had time to think, and then it was springing toward her again, filling her entire vision. A scream ripped from her throat, and then Meiner was there, her white braid swinging behind her as she lashed out at the dog with a booted foot. There was a dull thud and a yelp as the boot connected, and the beast was thrown back, claws scraping the stone floor. It snarled again, hackles raised, its bright, savage eyes fixed on Dayna. Even though Meiner stood between them, it didn’t even look at the white-haired witch.
When Dayna had scrambled back, she’d dropped the book in the doorway, and now the dog moved in front of it. Dayna braced herself, pulse drumming in her ears, breath coming in sharp gasps.
Meiner was mumbling furiously under her breath. Prayers for protection, it sounded like, arms held out before her. Dayna cast around, desperate for something to defend herself with. Her gaze fell on the broken stones of the church floor, and she snatched one up. Pain blazed in her shoulder, but she ignored it, hefting the stone—slate-gray and the size of her palm. The crackling energy of her magic pulsed in her fingers and the rock trembled with it.
When the dog moved again, she released it with a shouted, “Bogadh!” It was a wild, desperate bit of magic, absent of the cupped hands needed to direct it, completely lacking any finesse. It should have been miles off, but somehow the rock glanced off the beast’s face, making it stumble and yelp.
Meiner’s mumbled chanting grew louder, and the dog’s ears went back. It flinched, and for a moment Dayna thought it would turn tail and run.
Instead it growled and slunk closer. She could see it pushing against something, as if Meiner’s prayers were a physical barrier.
Dayna picked up another rock, panic washing over her. There was no way she’d get lucky with another throw like that. Desperately she tried to remember any of the spells she’d heard of, anything that might help them fight this thing. If only Reagan were here; she’d probably memorized a bunch for exactly this sort of situation.
Keeping her eyes fixed on the dog as it inched closer, she muttered a prayer to Danu. Goddess, grant me light. Grant me protection. Grant me power, so mote it be. The dog surged forward, and she reacted instinctively, arm snapping up, crying out the same spell a second time. She felt the power leave her in a rush, the sensation making her breath catch, and there was a sharp crack that echoed around the ruins as the dog was flung backward over the wall.
There was a distant yelp and a thrashing in the underbrush. Dayna stayed where she was, her chest heaving. All the hairs on her arms were on end, the residual power still prickling under her skin. It had felt like receiving an electric shock in reverse, the power flowing through her body, up from the pit of her stomach and out through the surface of her skin. No wonder Yemi had warned her about the post-ascension power surge.
Both she and Meiner were facing the woods now, on high alert.
From the forest came the crash of something moving, and then miles away, an indistinct voice yelling. Whoever it was sounded angry. The crashing sounds retreated.
“I think it’s leaving,” Meiner finally breathed, but Dayna could hardly hear her. All she could do was stare at the spot on the threshold of the ruins. The crumbling doorway, the moss-covered front step. Empty.
The book was gone.
“Where is it?” She took a step forward, stomach clenching. The forest around her seemed to swing wildly.
Meiner turned back to her, and her eyes went wide. “Dayna, your arm.”
She already knew she was bleeding. She could feel warmth running down her arm, trailing into the crook of her elbow, accompanied by the dull throb of pain. None of that mattered, though. “The book is gone.”
Dayna had felt something when she’d seen the cover of that book, an echo of the feeling in the vision. A sense of rightness. Like a puzzle piece clicking into place. If only she could have touched it, it would have told her things. Things that could save them.
“We have to get you out of here.” Meiner’s face was pale.
“But the book—” Dayna turned, and the world gave another nauseating twist, accompanied by a wave of knifelike pain. She sagged against the stone wall, head spinning. The blood coating her arm was thick and sticky, and the flow wasn’t slowing. She felt faint, and hollowed out, and the edges of her vision blackened and blurred.
“Come on.” Meiner stooped down to snatch up the protection charm, tucking it into her jeans pocket before hurrying over, yanking her sweatshirt off. Dayna winced as she pressed the fabric to the wound. “Hold that. Let’s get you to the car.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
MEINER
Meiner didn’t relax until they were in the kitchen and she’d delivered Dayna straight into Yemi’s and Reagan’s arms. The walk back through the forest and the drive home had been terrifying. She’d been afraid Dayna was going to pass out, she’d looked so pale.
“She’ll be needing stitches.” Reagan’s brow was creased, and she glanced over at her mother, who was rushing around the kitchen assembling hot water, towels, and the sewing kit. Meiner noticed Reagan kept her hand on Dayna’s other shoulder, rubbing her back. “We’ll have to call Faye.” At Meiner’s puzzled look she added, “She’s a surgeon. Well, she was. This looks pretty bad. Do you know what animal it was?”