“Okay.” Rene grabs another piece of cheese and I scramble to shove my feet in my paddock boots. Forgetting to put on my coat, I open the door and let Hunter race ahead of me. Whatever I was feeling before starts to get stronger. It’s a bad feeling, coming from the pit of my stomach. It bubbles up, threatening to take over.
The feeling is familiar, as if I’m sensing some sort of malicious spirit, but it has something else, something repulsive yet magnetic about it.
“Do you sense that?” I ask Hunter, who’s way ahead of me by now. He shifts from dog to shadow form, letting me know that yes, he does sense it too. Whatever was by the barn is retreating to the woods, but the foreboding feeling remains, staining the earth wherever this…this thing had been.
I slow to a stop, feet sliding on the ice outside one of the barn doors. Hunter barks and I get a flash of something moving across the snowy pasture, coming back toward the barn from the woods. If it wasn’t for the snow, I would have missed the shadowy outline of…I don’t know.
But I’m about to find out.
I throw out my hand, ready to summon fire if need be. Little flames spark around my fingers, burning bright against the black of the night—too bright, and I close my fist, blinking rapidly to adjust my vision. That second of distraction is just enough for something to move behind me, letting out a rattling breath.
I spin back around, still unsteady on the ice. There’s a spotlight on each side of the barn, illuminating the door. The bulbs are old and don’t give off much light, but it’s all I need to see that this thing in front of me has to be the reaper demon that followed Sam and Yuma.
It’s about my height and looks relatively human, except that its head is more skeletal and crescent-shaped, with thick, greenish-gray skin, wispy, long black hair, and beady yellow eyes. I bring my hand up, ready to wrap my fingers around his throat and set it on fire but stop. It’s too close to the barn. I can’t risk it.
Lips parting, I let out a breath and suddenly can’t remember any of the training Ethan and I have worked on. Using magic is my go-to, and not being able to use my power of pyrokinesis leaves me paralyzed. With a growl, the reaper springs forward and slams me down onto the icy gravel. Knocking the wind out of me, I gasp for air, the seconds ticking by. I try to scramble back up but the reaper hisses on top of me, saliva dripping off its browning fangs.
] A whoosh of black tackles the reaper, sending it flying away. I scramble up in time to see Hunter bite down hard on the demon’s face. Another reaper lets out a strangled scream and lurches forward. I look from the demon to Hunter, who has the reaper by the neck now, dragging it away from me. The other reaper knows he’s outnumbered and limps off, thick blood oozing from one of its legs.
I can’t let it get away.
Inhaling and finding my resolve, I push off the side of the barn and take off after it. The reaper slinks behind the old toolshed and I throw my hand out, concentrating hard to telekinetically open the splintering door that I normally wouldn’t touch without gloves. Cobwebs tangle with my hair as I rush inside, eyes narrowing in the dark. I mean to grab a shovel, but my hands close around an old ax instead.
It’s heavy and not something I know how to wield. But right as I realize I have the ax and not the shovel, the reaper grabs my arm and pain immediately radiates from its touch. The reaper’s thoughts are forced into my head. Images of dying victims flash in my brain and their screams vibrate my right down to my soul. I feel dizzy and sick, as if I’m being sucked downward into a fast-moving spiral of never-ending death. The darkness cloaks me and the smell of festering bodies fills the air, making me gag.
I yank my arm away so fast the reaper’s claws scratch open my skin. Even though the physical contact is gone, I’m still disoriented. My grip loosens on the ax. The old wood splinters and catches in my skin as it slides to the ground. I stumble and take a step back, my foot catching on something metal that loudly scrapes against the cement ground.
Instead of attacking me while I’m down, the reaper freezes, sniffing the air. Then, with alarming speed, it grabs my arm and licks the blood from where it scratched me. It lets go of my arm and slinks back, letting out a screeching yell that echoes across the barren pasture and the distant trees. Shaking myself back to reality, I untangle myself from whatever I tripped over, using an old wood-working table to push off of, propelling myself forward. Grabbing the ax again. I leave the shed, needing to get away from the reaper.