On the Edge (The Edge #1)(80)
Author: Ilona Andrews

Behind her, Buckwell and Declan rowed quietly. The dock grew closer and closer.

She clenched her hands to keep them from shaking. Ten minutes ago Jeremiah had called her. Her phone finally died, cutting him off in mid-word, but not before she got the message: the curse had been placed. Casshorn was asleep. William took off into the woods as soon as he heard, and now she was in a small boat, heading to a dock that looked more and more like a death trap.

"It’s not too late to back out," Declan said.

She shook her head, stealing a glance at him. A relaxed expression held his face. His body betrayed no tension. She didn’t know if he didn’t feel fear or if he hid it well, but she had to do the same. If she fell apart, she would be a distraction. The whole point of her forcing her way into this situation was to let him save his strength.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Not a chance."

Declan smiled at her.

"We had a saying in the army," Tom Buckwell said. "Often wrong, but never in doubt. Once you decide what you need to do and how to go about it, you can’t afford to second-guess yourself. You just do it."

The dock loomed before them. Rose got up and caught a wooden support, bringing the boat alongside of the dock. Declan caught the edge and pulled himself up. Rose gripped his hand, and he lifted her onto the dock. She stomped her feet in Leanne’s rubber-soled boots. They were a size too big, but she didn’t own any electrical hazard boots and they would have to do. This whole idea seemed amazingly stupid now.

William was in agreement with her. When they told him of their plan, he’d shut his eyes and shaken his head. The fact that she’d come up with this harebrained scheme only made the whole thing more ironic.

Buckwell passed Declan his swords. "Don’t touch the water once the power lines come down. We’ll be over there." He pointed to the shore behind the dock, where the roof of the church cut across the sky. "If any of them make it past you up the road, we’ve got machetes. And I’ve got my chainsaw. I’ve got six people down there, and every one of us should be able to see the beasts."

Declan nodded. "Good luck."

"Same to you." Buckwell took off.

She wanted to jump into his boat. Hell, she wanted to jump into the water and swim ashore.

"Scared?" Declan asked.

"Yes." She saw no point in lying.

"Good. It will keep you ready."

They watched Buckwell land and pull the boat out. Behind him Thad Smith waved his arms. Leanne appeared on the bank, gripping a huge severed cable with rubber gloves. She hurled it into the water. A loud sound popped, like a thunderclap.

A small fish surfaced by the dock, white belly up.

"Now we wait," Declan said.

Rose shrugged her shoulders, trying to break free of the pressure that clamped her.

"Remember, stop the moment your vision blurs," he said. "Pushing any further is asking for trouble. Don’t be stupid."

She nodded.

No wind troubled the greenery around the pond. Somewhere in the distance an Edger warbler sang out a trilling note. Mockingbirds screeched.

"So, regarding that tidbit about your having a fertile imagination when it came to private activities," she said, fighting off anxiety. "Was it another lie?"

"Depends on how you look at it. It’s not exactly a lie, and if you come with me to the Weird, you’ll find that rumors of my ‘creativity’ when it comes to bed games with the opposite sex do exist. I started them myself and managed them very carefully. The trick with rumors is to feed them once in a while, so they don’t die."

"Why would you do something like that?"

"Because I don’t particularly feel like being appraised like a side of beef by every enterprising young lady shopping for a husband. Despite my unfriendly demeanor, I’m wealthy, handsome, and a peer."

"All that female attention. Poor you."

Declan grimaced, his face turning cold. His voice became saturated with hard cynicism. "There is a great deal of difference between female attention and a never-ending assault of sugary pouts and ‘marry me, marry me, marry me.’ ‘You looked at me, can we get married now? You laughed at something I said, should I order a dress? You kissed me, I shall summon my father; he will be overjoyed to hear of our engagement. ‘ This way the only woman who tolerates being alone with me doesn’t mind having her reputation sullied, because she’s either in the market for a lover or she’s looking for a patron to support her. Quite frankly, I prefer it this way. No painful confusion, no complicated explanations."

She stared at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing, Lord Camarine. Absolutely nothing."

A long eerie howl cut through the evening. Rose jerked. A flock of birds burst from the distant branches. William was close, with the horde of hounds on his heels.

Declan raised his hand and shot a burst of white magic into the sky. She added her own flash and then shot another, just in case.

She sensed the magic first. It swelled like an icy tide along the pond’s edge, drenching the brush and rolling across the water. Tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on their ends.

The magic slimed her in a clammy wave. Tiny needles prickled at her pores. Inside her, an instinctual alarm wailed, Run away! Run away as fast as you can and don’t look back!

A dark body burst through the brush. Amber eyes glared at her, and the enormous wolf dashed to the left, veering around the lake. She flashed again.

The first hound pushed through the branches. God, that was fast.

Another appeared. Another . . . The first ten or twelve. The advance guard. Rose fought rising panic. She had to do this, she reminded herself. There was nobody else to do it. There was no escape anyway. For some reason that thought calmed her. It was very simple, just like cleaning an office: she had to do a certain amount of work before she could go home. No need to fret about it.

"What did I say?" Declan asked quietly.

"Not now." She raised her hand and let a string of white magic play on her fingers, taunting the beasts.

The hounds entered the water. They swam like dogs, but their heads remained underwater. Did they even need to breathe? she wondered.

Please work. Please work.

Please.

Midway through the lake, the foremost hound shuddered. It struggled for another six yards and sank. She breathed a sigh of relief. Two more drowned. The fourth one persevered and kept on, heading right for them. One in four. Better odds than she’d hoped for.

The surviving hound clenched the wooden support. Sluggish, it crawled up slowly. The moment its head rose above the edge of the dock, Rose blew it off with a sharp slice of white.