Broken Warrior (The Weavers Circle 1)

The creature smiled at him, and Clay took another step backward. The other pestilents had spread out across the meadow. They were trying to encircle him while his attention was on the one speaking to him. He was dressed in black pants and a pale-blue button-down shirt, as if he’d just stepped out of the office for a little romp through rural Georgia. The breeze ruffled his light brown hair, carrying with it the scent of death and decay to Clay’s nose.

Human-looking, but not human.

Friendly looking, but deadly.

“You and all of your kind need to leave,” Clay shouted.

The creature shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged his narrow shoulders. “By now you have to have realized that it’s not an option. Our two peoples have been waging this war for centuries, and it’s never going to end. This world is our best hope for survival.”

“But it means killing our world,” Clay snapped.

He didn’t look particularly moved by that piece of information. “It’s the circle of life. That’s one of your sayings, right? I’ve spent a very long time studying your kind. You believe that for something to live, something else must die. The dead feed the living, right? That’s what your world is doing for us.”

“Not happening—”

“Cor. You can call me Cor.” The pestilent leader smiled at Clay, and there was a wicked slant to it that chilled Clay to the bone. “You should always know the name of your killer.”

Those final words must have been a signal of sorts, because all the creatures in the meadow with Clay rushed toward him.

Clay struggled to hold his ground when his instincts screamed for him to run. He sucked in a shaking breath as he tapped into the power still producing a low-level hum through his frame. His gut demanded that he fall back on another earthquake. It was the one thing he was sure he could do, but it only made rescuing Baer that much harder for Grey.

Reaching out toward the trees just at the edge of the meadow, Clay found himself smiling as the vines wrapped around the limbs jumped at his touch. They unwound themselves, growing and strengthening as they moved so they were now more like twisted rope. A hiss and dry rustling rose from the grasses around the meadow.

One after another, the pestilents went down with screams of panic and pain. The vines hit their targets like headless snakes, wrapping around them. Desperate cries were sharply silenced. Clay imagined the vines twisting their way around fragile necks, tightening until no breath could be drawn, no blood could flow.

But not everyone was taken out by the vines. From his place in the field, he could see bodies thrashing about and blades raised, hacking the vines to pieces as they escaped. The only one untouched was Cor. He remained standing more than a dozen yards away, his hands fisted at his sides while his eyes were locked on Clay.

Had he faced this creature before?

There was no sense of déjà vu that came whenever he was with Grey or Baer, but there was something about the confidence in Cor that seemed familiar. Had Cor been the one to kill him in the last life? Had he killed Baer and the rest of the Weaver family?

He couldn’t be allowed another shot at the Circle.

But first, Clay needed to deal with the pestilents that were slowly climbing back to their feet.

Jerking his eyes free of Cor, Clay quickly glanced around at his surroundings while at the same time rummaging around in his brain for some other attack he could launch. Relief came in the most unexpected way.

Chatter and noise rose from the surrounding woods. Clay grinned as the field was suddenly filled with squirrels, chipmunks, and even some raccoons. They scampered through the high grass, teeth and claws turned toward the pestilents that had resumed their attempt to reach Clay.

Baer.

Baer was still alive and lending a hand the only way he could.

Clay prayed it meant Grey had reached him. Please let Baer be in the truck with Dane.

The pestilents scattered under the onslaught. The animals weren’t particularly large, but they were enough to distract the pestilents from attacking Clay yet again.

Except for Cor.

The creature continued to stand there, staring at him across the open space, his army of dutiful pestilents fighting to protect their eyes and flesh.

He couldn’t think about Cor yet. He had to finish off the last of these pestilents and then get to Grey. There was no telling how much time had passed, but he hoped it was enough for Grey to get Baer into the truck with Dane.

With his eyes jumping back to the trees closest to him, Clay tapped deep into the power crackling around him and through him. The trees felt eager to join this fight after watching the squirrels and vines get in on the action. Why the fuck not?