Venators: Promises Forged. Devri Walls

      There was a small ledge—maybe eight feet below the lip—with Danchee’s signature pile of dirt, and hanging from the edge was Tate. The dirt he clung to with his left hand crumbled, and Tate swung to the side by one arm. He twisted back, slamming his hand onto the loose dirt, scrambling to find a hold.

      “We’re coming!” Rune called. “Hold on.” She stood up and undid her belt. “Grey, hold my feet. You’re going to have to help us both back up.”

      She wrapped the end of her belt around her wrist and wiggled out over the edge. Grey wrapped his arms around her ankles. The very edge of the lip crumbled, and Rune squeaked as she dropped several inches before stabilizing.

      “Are you all right?” Grey called.

      “Yeah, fine. Little lower.”

      Grey inched closer to the edge.

      “Tate, take the end,” Rune called.

      Grey could tell the moment Tate grabbed the end of the belt. He grunted, trying to hold the weight of them both. “Ready?”

      “Yeah, pull us up.”

      “Easy for you to say.” Grey dug his heels in, pushing against them and wiggling his butt from one side to the other as he slowly scooted back. Once Rune was over the top, she pulled her knees up and added her muscle to help pull. When Tate finally made it to flat ground, she flopped flat, breathing hard.

      Tate got to his feet. He was covered in a fine dust that had turned his black clothes chalky. He stared out in the direction Danchee must’ve fled. “Of all the stupid ways to nearly die, this must win.”

      “I’m sure there are more stupid ways,” Rune said through heavy breaths. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

      “Why didn’t you call to us?” Grey asked. “You must’ve heard us talking.” When Tate didn’t respond, he got to his feet and brushed off his pants. “Unbelievable. You would rather die than ask for help.”

      “It’s called pride,” Tate said darkly.

      “It’s called stupidity,” Rune huffed. “Speaking of stupid ways to die—” Still flat on her back, she raised one arm in a mock greeting. “‘Hi, I’m Tate, and I would rather fall to my death than accept help from two teenagers.’”

      Tate shot her a glare.

      “Nope.” She shook her head, her ponytail swishing back and forth against the ground. “Not apologizing.”

      “What are you two doing over here anyway?”

      “Looking for you,” Grey answered honestly. “And Danchee.”

      “The little beast is gone.”

      “What does Danchee know?” Grey stepped next to Tate. “It’s obviously important to you.”

      “It doesn’t matt—”

      “Yes, it does,” Rune sat up. “You’re freakishly calm while being attacked by werewolves, but that wrinkled thing makes you lose your mind. In the woods, when Danchee talked about a family affair, I thought you were going to rip his head off with your bare hands.”

      Tate’s hands fisted.

      “See! You still want to. Which is why we found you dangling off a cliff.”

      “Talk to us,” Grey pleaded. “Maybe we can help.”

      “No. It doesn’t concern you.”

      “Oh, the hell it doesn’t!” Rune jumped to her feet. “Near as I can tell, we’re a team. What do you think, Grey? Are we a team?”

      “Yeah.” Grey crossed his arms. “I’d say so.”

      “A team supports one another, and they don’t keep secrets that could get one, or all, of them killed. What happens next time you see him? What if we’re in the middle of a battle, and Danchee pops up? Are you going to drop us and run?” She came up on the other side of Tate and leaned around just enough to force him to look at her. “We need to know what’s going on. And frankly, I think we’ve earned it.”

      Tate sighed so deeply it might have originated in his toes. “Fine. The library. Come. We’ll talk there.”

      GLADIATOR

      Grey followed Rune and Tate back inside the council house. Tate stalked ahead, everything about his posture betraying his dread. He led them in silence toward the dining hall at the back of the foyer—where they’d met the council the first time—then took a sharp left. Multiple hallways departed from the main in both directions. Most appeared abandoned and loomed with menacing dark. But the main hall glittered with light that illuminated the ancient beauty.

      Ceilings towered twenty feet high, with gilded moldings and hand-painted frescos. Grey took in every image, deciphering the stories they told, immersed in some of the finest fantasy art he’d ever seen.

      The mental slip made him smile. He was currently following a blue man to find books on how to effectively hunt werewolves. It wasn’t fantasy anymore, was it?

      “Oh no,” Rune muttered.

      Grey pulled his gaze from the ceiling. Ahead of them, Shax had turned the corner, and his bright-blue eyes were already fixated on Rune. He tugged at the cuffs of his white shirt, rolling them up, and adjusted course to the middle of the hall to force an interaction.

      “Shax.” Tate nodded to the incubus.

      Shax ignored Tate and took a sharp sidestep, putting himself between Tate and Rune and immediately in her path. She came up short, jerking to a stop.

      “Hellooo,” Shax purred, looking her up and down as if she were a fine piece in a wax museum.

      “Hello?” Rune scowled. “I’m not the one that said hello. Tate said hello, and you totally ignored him.”

      Grey ducked his head, smiling.

      “Hello, Tate,” Shax said absently, not bothering to turn around. “I didn’t see you there.”

      “You didn’t see him . . .” Rune pursed her lips. “Tate’s a little hard to miss. He’s like six foot six,” she motioned, “and blue.”

      Shax grinned, further enamored. “Whatever happened to those beautiful markings of yours?” He reached out a finger and ran it down Rune’s arm.

      Rune gasped, no doubt feeling Shax’s magic, and stepped back. “Don’t touch me!” she snapped, rubbing at her arm.

      Sexual tension crackled through the air, emanating from Shax like heat waves. He leaned forward, shoulders wiggling like a cat about to pounce. “You have so much fire. I like it.”

      “You can like it all you want.” Rune bit off every word, taking another step back. “From over there.”

      “Fiery and resistant.” Shax ran his tongue over his lower lip, his eyes flashing. “I haven’t encountered that in some time.”

      Grey’s teeth clenched. “Rune,” he blurted. “We need to get going.”

      “Yes! Thank you.” Rune jumped at the escape hatch Grey had just opened. She took a wide step around Shax. “Tate, lead the way.”

      She hurried forward. Linking her arm with Grey’s, she mouthed, Thank you.

      Her touch was casual, he knew that, but still—his heart beat faster. There was something about her that made him want to be next to her. She leaned in closer, pressing her hip against his. Grey’s mouth went dry.

      “He’s still watching me, isn’t he?”

      Grey glanced back at Shax. “Yeah.”

      “Great.