Ash eyed me. “There is all manner of things that I can do and try,” he said. Something about his tone and the intensity in his stare made my skin even warmer. “Things I’m sure you’d find as equally interesting as I find your bravery.”

I sucked in an edgy breath as his words made me think of those damn books in the Atheneum. The illustrated ones.

“But just because I can do something, doesn’t mean I should,” he finished, snapping me out of my wayward thoughts.

My gaze shifted to the shadowy tree line and then back to him. A god with limitations? Interesting.

“We are about to have company,” he said, and I blinked. “I don’t believe they will be nearly as entertaining as you surely find me.”

“I don’t find you entertaining,” I muttered, and that was a foolish lie the god didn’t even bother challenging. Who wouldn’t be entertained by a god or Primal, even one as annoying as he? “These woods are haunted. What we heard could just be spirits.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes. They like to moan and make all manner of obnoxious noises.” I sent him a frown. “Shouldn’t you know that, being that you’re from the Shadowlands?”

Ash stared into the woods. “These are not spirits.”

“No one enters these woods,” I reasoned. “It has to be a spirit.”

“I entered these woods,” he pointed out.

“But you’re a god.”

“And what makes you think that what is coming is of your mortal realm?”

I halted, my stomach hollowing.

“I have a question for you. Are your spirits flesh and bone? The ones that haunt these woods?”

My gaze flicked up. All I saw was the darkness among the elms. “No.” I turned to him. “Of course, not.”

Ash lifted the sword, pointing the blade toward the trees. “Then what would you call these things?”

“What things?” I leaned forward, squinting. There were only shadows, but then I saw something drifting out of the darkness between the elms, a figure cloaked in black. A nightmare.

Chapter 11

They almost looked mortal, but if they were once that, they weren’t anymore.

Their skin held the waxy pallor of death, scalps bare of hair, eyes endless black pits, and mouths…they were all wrong. Their mouths were stretched too far across the cheeks as if someone had carved out a wider smile for them. And that mouth appeared sewn shut like the Shadow Priests.

I unsheathed the blade. “What are they?” I whispered, quickly counting six of them.

“Definitely not wayward spirits.”

Slowly, I looked over at him. “No, really?”

One side of his lips curved up. “They’re known as Gyrms,” he answered. “This type? They’re called Hunters.”

This type? There were more of these things? I had never heard of such a creature. “Why would they be here?”

“They must be looking for something.”

“Like what?” I asked.

Ash spared me a glance. “That is a very good question.”

My heart thumped erratically against my ribs as the Hunters stood there, staring at us—or at least that was what I thought. I couldn’t be sure with those holes for eyes. My stomach churned as the urge to run seized me.

But I hadn’t run from anything since I was a child, and I wouldn’t start now.

An unearthly moan filled the air once more, and the trees shuddered in response. The Hunters moved in unison, sweeping forward in a vee.

Ash struck before I had a chance to respond, thrusting his sword through the back of one and into the chest of another, striking down two with one blow. The creatures made no sound, their bodies only spasming.

“Gods,” I rasped.

He looked over his shoulder as he pulled the sword free. “Impressed?”

“No,” I lied, jerking back a step when the two recently impaled creatures collapsed into themselves. It was like they’d been drained of all moisture with a snap of a finger. They shriveled in a matter of seconds and then shattered into nothing but a fine dusting of ash that was gone before it hit the ground.

“You should go home.” Ash moved forward, sword at his side. “This doesn’t concern you.”

The remaining creatures continued forward, hands reaching around to their backs. They unsheathed swords with shadowstone blades.

Ash moved with the fluid grace of a warrior, with a skill I doubted most mortals could acquire with years of training. He spun, sweeping his sword in a wide arc, slicing through the neck of one of the creatures.

There was no spray of red, no iron-rich scent clogging the air. There was only the smell of…stale lilacs. The scent reminded me of something. Not that poor seamstress, but—

One of the creatures swung its sword, and Ash twisted, meeting the blow. The blades clanged with a force that must have shaken them both.

Ash laughed as he stared the Hunter down. “Nice. But you should’ve known you’d have to try harder.” He pushed the creature back, but the thing quickly regained its footing and charged at the same moment another lurched forward.

I should actually listen to him this time, but I couldn’t just stand there or leave him to be stabbed in the back. These Hunters had shadowstone blades. If their aim was slightly better than mine had been, they could kill him.

My bare feet glided over the damp grass as I shot forward, shifting the dagger in my hand without much conscious thought. The Hunter took aim, preparing to plunge his sword deep into Ash’s back. Having no idea if iron would work on such a creature, I slammed the hilt of the blade into the back of its skull. The crack of iron meeting bone twisted my stomach as the creature stumbled backward, lowering the sword.

But it did not fall like expected. And I’d hit him hard enough to put the thing to sleep for the night—or the week. Dumbfounded, I watched it turn to face me. Its head cocked to the side, and a low moaning sound reached me, coming from the thing’s throat and sealed mouth.

It stalked toward me.

“Dammit,” I whispered, jumping back as it swung out with the sword.

“Did I not tell you to go home?” Ash bit out. “That this does not concern you?”

“You did.” I ducked under the creature’s arm.

“I have it handled.” Ash cleaved through the midsection of another Hunter. “Obviously.”

“Then I guess I should’ve allowed him to stab you in the back?” I grabbed the creature’s sword arm and twisted, spinning him away from me. “A thank you would’ve been sufficient.”

“I would’ve said thank you.” Ash wheeled around, shoving his sword deep into another creature’s chest. The scent of stale lilacs smacked me in the face. “If there was a reason to do so.”

“You sound ungrateful.”

“Well, you would know what ungrateful sounds like,” Ash shot back. “Wouldn’t you?”

Another Hunter came at me, weapon lowered. I kicked out, catching him in the stomach as I eyed the sword he held.

“On second thought, thank you for doing that,” he said, and I glanced over at him. My breath caught at the inexplicable and somewhat idiotic tug in my stomach and then lower when I saw the heated intensity in his stare.

There was definitely something very, very wrong with me.

“Please continue to fight in just a…well, whatever you call that very flimsy piece of clothing,” he offered. “Is it distracting? Yes. But in the best possible way.”

“Pervert,” I snarled, snapping forward as the creature lifted its sword.

Ash spun toward me. “What in the hell are you—?”

I slammed the dagger blade into the Hunter’s wrist. Immediately, the creature’s hand spasmed open, releasing the sword. It fell to the ground, and I quickly dipped down to retrieve it. Straightening, I looked over, holding the sword in one hand and the dagger in the other. I smiled widely at him.

He bit out a short laugh. “Well then, carry on.” He turned to the other creature. “Sever their heads or destroy their hearts. It’s the only way to put them down.”