Wild Warrior (The Weavers Circle 2)

“What about the human tour group? You think it’s a good idea to let them capture it all on video?” Grey demanded.

“Shit,” Clay hissed. He paused for a second. “Can you use your powers to maybe blind them to what’s happening or at least get them moving along to the next block? Get them out of the area.”

“Yes.”

Grey took a step forward, but Clay grabbed his arm, stopping him. “The priority is the new Weaver. No matter what, you get him safely to the Jeep. He has to make it to the plantation in one piece in order to get his powers. If you have to, leave without us.”

“But—”

“You have to keep him safe. That’s an order,” Clay said firmly.

Grey’s jaw muscles jumped as if he were grinding his teeth, but he finally bit out, “Got it.”

“Once we’re safe, we’ll call Dane to come fetch us in the truck if you’ve already left.”

Baer felt for Grey. He wouldn’t want to leave his brothers behind either, but he and Clay had the best shot of beating the pestilents with their magic. Grey could handle the humans, but after that, someone needed to concentrate on wrangling the powerless Weaver to a safe location. And right now, there was only one of those—the plantation house.

With one last nod from Grey, Clay slapped him on the shoulder. The Soul Weaver strode across the street, heading directly toward the man still looking at them. Baer moved to stand beside Clay as they watched Grey and the tour group.

“Half a dozen, huh?” Baer inquired.

“Yup.”

“Looks like the entrance to the cemetery is locked. You got a way inside?”

Clay gazed down the line of the fence until his eyes fell on a large oak on the outside of the fence with its branches stretched into the graveyard. “Yeah, I got a way in. Need some help?”

Baer snorted. “I got this.” He started to jog across the street, moving away from where Grey was talking to the new Weaver.

“Don’t get snatched up by an owl,” Clay called after him.

Baer lifted his hand over his shoulder, flipping off his brother with a laugh.

As he got closer to the sturdy iron fence, the pungent scent of rotting meat wafted through the bars, causing him to wrinkle his nose. God, it was amazing he could eat meat at all after fighting these bastards. The smell was thick and wet, as if it were a living thing writhing in the grass.

Putting the large oak between himself and the tour group, Baer pulled on his powers and conjured up the image of a black mamba. No, it wasn’t indigenous to the area, but he was fucking venomous and scary as hell. If an owl spotted him, he hoped it would move the hell along.

He’d tried snakes only a couple of times before and never at night. Their senses were entirely different from what he was accustomed to. Plus, he preferred big animals with big teeth and even bigger claws. The snake’s fangs were nice, but the air was cool along his scaled flesh while the earth was still warm against his belly.

Not waiting to be discovered, he slithered between the iron bars and through the long grass to the deeper shadows toward the back of the graveyard. The rancid scent was now a horrible flavor coating his forked tongue.

Gliding through the long grass, he moved easily away from the fence and into the graveyard. There was some low conversation, but he couldn’t make out the words. He hoped Grey wasn’t having any trouble getting rid of the humans. The Weaver was going to be another story. Running off with a total stranger at night wasn’t something most sane people agreed to, and it wasn’t like Grey could comfortably launch into a story featuring the truth.

Oh, hi! I’m your long-lost brother and we need to leave before monsters eat your face. But it’s okay because I’m gonna introduce you to this old lady who’s gonna give you magic.

Baer tried to snort at his own thoughts but discovered that snakes couldn’t snort-laugh. Just another reason not to be a snake.

Something moved in the grass not far away from him and Baer stopped. The smell of the pestilents was thicker now. He was close. His tongue flicked out again and again, trying to judge their exact location. Slowly lifting his head up, he tried to spot Clay as well, but it wasn’t easy.

The cemetery wasn’t like what he was accustomed to with its neat rows of headstones. Low red-brick vaults were everywhere along with winding paths. Too many easy hiding places. He needed something bigger and scarier.

Tapping into his power, he grabbed on to another animal image in his head while slowly releasing the mental image of the snake. His body twisted and muscles burned. For some reason, it hurt more to go from animal to animal than from animal to human. But the burn lasted for only a moment.