Wild Warrior (The Weavers Circle 2)

The coyote yelped and jumped off Lucien, confused and hurting. His tail was tucked between his legs as he leaped over the flames and ran toward the woods. The poor thing hadn’t wanted to attack Lucien. He’d been given no choice.

Clay kneeled over Lucien as the taller man struggled to push into a sitting position. It looked like he was holding his hand pressed to his throat, but Wiley couldn’t see from where they were how badly he was hurt.

A vicious roar shattered the air and for a heartbeat, everything just stopped. Wiley jerked his head around, desperately searching for the creature that made such a terrifying sound. It couldn’t be one of Ardette’s creatures. She’d plucked everything straight from the wild. Unless she decided to get a few bonus minions from the zoo.

A massive tawny lion raced across the camp. It was hard to believe something so beautiful could be so deadly. Wiley automatically reached for the creature’s mind, but instead of blackness he was met with a haze of red.

Red for rage.

Red for blood.

Red for revenge.

Baer shoved Wiley out of his mind just before he jumped into the air, throwing his entire body straight into Ardette. The two crashed to the ground and the woman’s scream was immediately cut off.

A second later, all the remaining darkness that had blanketed the campground started to dissipate as if a breeze were carrying away thick, black smoke. Animals that Wiley hadn’t been able to free stopped and suddenly turned toward the woods, away from the fire, fighting, and dying.

“He killed her,” Wiley said on a sigh. “Ardette is dead.”

“Yeah, but that’s not stopping them,” Grey growled. He grabbed Wiley’s arm and jerked him to his feet. Without the constant fight against the witch’s spell, Wiley felt like he could start thinking clearly again. The endless pressure on his brain was starting to ease.

But when he looked around, he found that they were still outnumbered by the pestilents.

Wiley started to reach for the gun still in the holster on his hip. He hadn’t touched it yet. His main concern had been to get rid of the spell. Now he had to offer support to the rest of the Circle as they cleaned up the last of the pestilent attackers.

His fingers never had the chance to wrap around the grip, because Grey grabbed his arm and shouted. It all happened so damn fast. There was something large rolling across the field, part of it on fire. A propane tank maybe? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t ever going to be sure.

Grey pulled him off his feet, and they both leaped into the air. The Soul Weaver tucked him close, trying to shield him with his body. A hot force plowed into them, throwing them even farther through the air, followed by a deafening explosion of noise.

Wiley hit the ground hard, the breath getting knocked from his lungs, while he rolled several feet across dirt and grass. He coughed, sucking in fresh air. His skin stung as if he’d been sunburned and his ears rang. Everything hurt. He’d been in one car wreck in his life, and this felt very similar but so much worse.

Groaning, he pushed to his hands and knees. He looked around to find more of the trees and grass on fire. Several yards away, Grey lay sprawled, not moving.

“Grey!” Wiley shouted, though he could barely hear his own voice. Pain and fear slashed through him as he tried to get to his feet, only to fall to his knees again. Sharp rocks bit into his palms. His sense of balance was shot to hell. Fuck it. He crawled as quickly as he could across the field to Grey’s side.

A gasp left him as he found the Soul Weaver’s face covered in burns and blood. Wiley was almost afraid to touch him, but he reached out and gently placed his hands on Grey’s shoulder. The man’s entire body jerked, and he violently sucked in a deep breath, which was followed by thick coughs.

“It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you,” Wiley said. “Are you okay? Where are you hurt?”

“Okay…I’m okay,” Grey gasped. He coughed a couple of times more before his breathing evened out. “My head…everything is swimming…and my eyes…I can’t see. I’m blind.”

“Shhh…it’s okay. I’ve got you. Dane will be able to fix you,” Wiley said, fighting to keep his voice calm and even when panic was strangling him.

“Assuming the pestilents don’t rip us up first,” Grey grumbled. “What about you?”

“I’m okay. Just got my bell rung. What hit us?”

“Propane tank…exploded,” Grey answered through more coughing.

“I need to find the shotgun you were carrying.” Wiley started to release Grey, but the Soul Weaver caught his hand, stopping him.

“Don’t bother. I was out of ammo.”

“Shit.” He’d been vaguely aware of the shotgun firing time and again while Wiley worked on unraveling the spell. Grey had been fighting back any of the pestilents that had come toward them. Now he had to do the same for Grey until they could escape. “I’ve only got the Smith & Wesson Dane gave me. Just eight shots.”