“They survive by any means necessary. For this clan, one of those means is by slaughtering anyone they view as a threat. Supposedly, they eat who they kill and will often use the flesh for masks and the bones—well, you already saw what they like to do with the bones. You know what they say—waste not, want not.”
My mouth dropped open. “I…”
“Yeah, Princess, there really aren’t any words. We try to avoid them when we pass through here. Normally, we don’t have any problems. But in case we do.” He folded a hand over mine. “Feel this metal piece? It’s the trigger. You aim this bow just like you would a normal one, but instead of pulling the string back, you press on this, and it fires the arrow.”
I had so many questions, but I curled my fingers around the wooden handle, getting a feel for its weight. Instinct told me that the important thing was to focus on his instructions. “Okay.”
“The arrow is nocked the same, except it’s held in place. All you need to do is aim and pull the trigger. Bloodstone bolts will also kill mortals,” he instructed. “You know what to do if we have any problems with these people. Stay alive.”
I started to respond, but Kieran shouted. No more than a second later, Casteel jerked me back against him. The handle of the bow pressed into my stomach as something whizzed mere inches from my face. My head jerked to the right as a branch on the other side of the road snapped in two, taken down by—
“In the trees!” Naill shouted. “To the left!”
Casteel wheeled Setti, guiding the powerful horse around so that I was facing to the right. He shifted in the saddle, his body pressing mine down as flat as I could go—
There was another shot, and then Casteel was gone from Setti’s back, driven to the ground.
Chapter 21
“Casteel!” I shouted, my heart slamming against my ribs. Twisting in the saddle, I gripped the bow as I looked down.
Rolling out of the path of Setti’s hooves, Casteel rose to his knees. My stomach dropped at the sight of the arrows jutting out of his back. One was lodged in his left shoulder. Another was near the center of his back, just to the right. Blood already darkened his black cloak.
“Solis bastards!” someone shouted from the trees. “You’re going to die today!”
Another arrow blew past my face, missing me by inches. Panic exploded in my chest as Setti pranced in a tight circle, startled. He’s okay, I told myself as I gripped the saddle horn with my other hand. He was Atlantian. Two arrows couldn’t take him down. He’s okay. I’d stabbed him in the actual heart, and he’d been fine. He’s okay—
Setti reared. My grip on the pommel slipped. I had no idea how to control a horse, and if I let go to grab the reins, I would fall. I was no way near as fast as Casteel. My wild gaze darted over the heavy tree line as Naill shouted a curse, taking an arrow to the leg. Setti slammed down on his front hooves, rattling me to my very bones. I lost my grip and slipped. The sky turned sideways—
An arm snagged me from behind. The scent of rich spice and citrus in fresh snow enveloped me. Casteel yanked me down as Delano suddenly appeared on Setti’s other side. Catching Setti’s reins, he rose to a crouch on the saddle and leapt onto the horse’s back, keeping his mount’s reins in his other hand. Sliding into the seat, he dug his heels in, urging Setti and his horse into the woods to the right.
A blur of fawn-colored fur shot past us, into the woods. Kieran. Several heartbeats later, I heard a yelp and a high-pitched scream as Casteel all but carried me into the trees to the right.
“Fucking wolven!” a man hooted, his enthusiastic response quite at odds with what came out of his mouth next. “This just became our lucky day, boys! The gods are good!”
Casteel spun suddenly, shielding my body with his. He jerked and growled out a sharp curse, and I knew he’d taken another arrow.
“This is getting extremely annoying,” he snarled, thrusting me behind a tree. He tossed the quiver of arrows I hadn’t seen him grab toward me. “Don’t get shot. That will be even more annoying.”
“How about you try not getting shot again.” An arrow now protruded from Casteel’s lower back, and he was still standing there. In the back of my mind, I knew why. He was Atlantian. But all I could think as I saw the three arrows pierced through him was…what if he weren’t?
He’d be dead, and I…
“But I make wearing arrows look good, don’t I?” Casteel twisted sharply, his hand snapping out. He caught the next arrow intended for him.
I stared at him.
“I don’t know why any of you think this is your lucky day,” he yelled back as he turned around. He shattered the arrow in his fist. “It’s really not. Not when my cloak has been ruined. And I really liked it. It was warm, and now it has godsdamn holes in it. How will that keep me warm?”
Something about him being more upset about his ruined cloak than he was about having multiple holes in his body had a strange, calming effect on me. My hands stopped trembling as I focused on the pines across the road. I knew how to fire a bow. I was very good at it. Vikter had claimed that I was one of the best archers he’d seen. I had the steady hands for it, the watchful eye, and the quick reflexes. That was why Casteel had handed the bow over to me. He knew I could use it.
And I had the steady hands now.
A sound began, a great wave of rattling that reminded me of those wooden toys with beads inside that infants often enjoyed. It seemed to come from all directions, like the rasping of dry bones. The hairs on my neck stood on end.
Rapidly scanning the other side of the road for any movement that wasn’t fawn-colored, I lifted the bow as Naill joined Casteel. My finger curled around the trigger as I kept searching—
A muddied brown shape briefly appeared between the pines, and I didn’t hesitate. Not for a second. I leveled the bow just as my target lifted his weapon, taking aim at Naill. I pressed on the trigger.
The bolt released with a whoosh, flying across the road. I already knew I’d hit my target when I reached for another heavier, thicker arrow.
Movement caught my eyes. I looked just in time to see Casteel launch into the air. He jumped higher than he stood, which was well over six feet. My lips parted as he landed on a limb, shaking free pine needles and snow dust. All I could see was his arm punch into the shadows of the limb. A second later, he yanked a mortal out, tossing him to the ground—
Delano shot out from the forest. In his wolven form, he was nothing more than a streak of white fur. He caught the mortal before he hit the ground, whipping his large head and shaking the man like a dog did its favorite toy. I heard a cracking sound, and then Delano dropped the broken mortal. Blood streaked Delano’s fur as he lunged, catching another clansman around the throat that Casteel had thrown from the tree from…dear gods…from higher up.
Dragging my eyes from what I was unlikely to ever forget, I nocked another bolt, firing at another mortal that popped out from between two trees. Loading the bow, I twisted at the waist, leaned out—
“Damn bloodsuckers! Boys, be fast!” that first voice came again, somewhere from the trees. “We ain’t dealing with just wolven! Aim for the head!”
Okay, the fact that this Dead Bones Clan knew about the wolven and the Atlantians was interesting. And I—
Fiery pain lanced across my skin as an arrow shot by me, grazing my arm. I sucked in a sharp breath as I darted back behind the elm, shaking my wrist as if that would somehow lessen the burn.
It didn’t help all that much.
Screams of pain pierced through the distant snarls. Gritting my teeth, I looked over my shoulder, no longer seeing Casteel or Delano. Naill was gone too. I stayed still until I saw a shifting of shadows and a flash of movement to my left. I zeroed in on it.
I fired the bolt just as the sound of pounding feet whipped my attention to the right. A man ran at me—at least I thought the tall, broad shape was a man, but I couldn’t be sure. His face was covered by something that looked like leather. Clumps of brown hair poked out from the mask. He carried no bow, but rather some sort of club, and he was fast for someone his size.
“Shit,” I whispered, whirling toward the quiver. I grabbed a bolt and nocked it quickly.
The man swung the club before I could fire. I ducked but wasn’t fast enough. His club caught the bow, knocking it from my grip with one shattering blow. He laughed. “What kind of bitch are you?” he asked as I jumped back. I recognized the man’s voice. He’d been the one shouting, and now that he was only a foot or so from me, I could see why I thought his mask was made of leather.
And I could also see that Casteel hadn’t been joking when he said that the Dead Bones Clan operated on the waste-not-want-not creed.
It was skin.
Human skin that had been stretched to fit over his head, stitched in jagged pieces around the openings that had been created for the eyes and mouth. My stomach churned, but I didn’t cave to the rising nausea.
“Are you part dog, or do you like to suck on things?” he asked, switching the club to his left hand. “If you beg nicely, I got something you can suck on.” He reached down, grabbing what I could only assume he was referencing. “Your face may be a mess, but your mouth looks just fine.”
Heart pounding, I darted out of reach of the club as he swung it again. I reached inside my cloak, unsheathing my dagger. I stilled, waiting as my fingers opened and closed around the handle. I had to be quick and smart. I’d only have one chance.
“I bet you’re one of those wolven bitches. Hear they like their women all cut up.” He made a calling sound, one used to summon a dog, and my grip tightened. “Tell me, girl. What kind of bitch are you?”
He lifted the club again, and I made my move. Shooting forward, I slipped under his arm and grabbed the dirty tunic. Thrusting the dagger up, I used every ounce of strength I had to drive it deep under his chin.
“I’m this kind of bitch,” I growled. The muscles under the mask pieced together by human flesh went lax as I jerked the knife free.