Read Online Magic Stars (Grey Wolf Book 1) by Ilona Andrews - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ilona Andrews
Tags: Science-Fiction, Urban Fantasy, Paranormal, paranormal romance, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Paranormal & Urban, Werewolves, urban fantasy romance, shapeshifters, Kate Daniels Series, Kate Daniels World, Kate Daniels Spinoff
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paws.
He had no idea if the wolfsbane would work on it.
The boar-hound snarled under its breath, sucking in the air. Small vicious eyes stared, unblinking. The creature took a step closer to the gap.
Next to him Julie held completely still. She couldn’t take a hound. She’d need a spear. The tomahawks wouldn’t do it. He had to fix himself fast or neither of them would get out alive.
Another step.
Another.
He reached for his knife.
The boar-hound inhaled, searching for their scent, and recoiled. It snorted, pawed at its nose, snarled, and squealed like a pig.
His ears caught the sound of heavy hoofbeats drawing near.
The boar-hound grunted, circling the smoldering ring, trying to get away from the wolfsbane.
A massive shaggy horse came into view, carrying a rider. Derek’s view gave him a glimpse of a leather boot and a leg in brown pants. Derek dipped his head, trying to get a better look. The hunter wore leather. Big, at least six eight, larger, broader, probably stronger than a normal human. A hooded cloak of wolf fur shielded his back. The invisible hackles between Derek’s shoulders stood on end.
The hunter turned, showing his face. Around thirty, white, long brown hair. Hard. Weather-bitten. Light eyes. A long ragged scar crossing the nose bridge. Something with claws had marked him, but must’ve died before it finished the job. Derek bared his teeth. He’d make him choke on that fur.
A tall bow of wood and bone hung over the hunter’s shoulder. The hunter raised an arm shielded by leather. A shriek tore through the night, and a bird dropped from the sky like a stone and landed on the arm. Ugly, bearded, big, with a vicious beak. Didn’t look like any bird he’d ever seen.
The hunter studied the boar-hound, then raised his head and surveyed the area. His gaze passed over their shelter. He peered into the gap. Derek looked into his eyes. Magic rolled over him in a dark cold wave, dousing the agony of silver with ice, and he saw a long, frozen winter night under the moon. He felt the cold snow under his paws. He smelled his own blood, bright and hot, as it fell onto the snow, and heard the long, undulating howl of hungry hounds.
This is the way it always was. This is the way it had to be now. He had to run, run into the trees, before the arrows and hounds found him.
Nice try, asshole.
The urge to run was overwhelming now. It was taking all of his will to just stay still.
A moment dripped by. Derek waited. He was a wolf. He had all the patience in the world.
The hunter whistled softly through his teeth. The boar-hound shook its head and moved on. The hunter turned away, tossed the bird back into the night sky, and the massive horse resumed its steady walk.
They lay still for another three minutes before they quietly slipped out of the gap. Julie grabbed his hand, pointed to the pole, to herself, and up.
Lift me.
He grasped her legs and held her up. She plucked the arrow from the pole and they melted into the night.
THE BIG BUILDING GAPED OPEN, its front wall gone, scattered in pieces on the ground. Half its roof was missing, but the back offered shelter. He was limping now, running slow even for a human.
“Almost there,” Julie whispered.
He squeezed one last burst of movement from his body. He was shutting down.
“Almost there,” she repeated.
He followed her across the dirty floor to the metal staircase leading up, up the stairs and to the far corner of the empty building. He sagged to the ground. She dropped beside him, yanked a small knife out of the sheath on her waist, and pulled his hoodie off. Her eyes went wide.
“It’s over your neck.”
He knew that already. The flesh over his neck and chest felt dead. When she touched it, he felt no pressure. The skin on his chest had turned duct-tape grey.
Cutting the chest wouldn’t do it. The silver was still in his bloodstream and moving up. If it hit his brain, he would die. He had to expel it before it reached that
He had no idea if the wolfsbane would work on it.
The boar-hound snarled under its breath, sucking in the air. Small vicious eyes stared, unblinking. The creature took a step closer to the gap.
Next to him Julie held completely still. She couldn’t take a hound. She’d need a spear. The tomahawks wouldn’t do it. He had to fix himself fast or neither of them would get out alive.
Another step.
Another.
He reached for his knife.
The boar-hound inhaled, searching for their scent, and recoiled. It snorted, pawed at its nose, snarled, and squealed like a pig.
His ears caught the sound of heavy hoofbeats drawing near.
The boar-hound grunted, circling the smoldering ring, trying to get away from the wolfsbane.
A massive shaggy horse came into view, carrying a rider. Derek’s view gave him a glimpse of a leather boot and a leg in brown pants. Derek dipped his head, trying to get a better look. The hunter wore leather. Big, at least six eight, larger, broader, probably stronger than a normal human. A hooded cloak of wolf fur shielded his back. The invisible hackles between Derek’s shoulders stood on end.
The hunter turned, showing his face. Around thirty, white, long brown hair. Hard. Weather-bitten. Light eyes. A long ragged scar crossing the nose bridge. Something with claws had marked him, but must’ve died before it finished the job. Derek bared his teeth. He’d make him choke on that fur.
A tall bow of wood and bone hung over the hunter’s shoulder. The hunter raised an arm shielded by leather. A shriek tore through the night, and a bird dropped from the sky like a stone and landed on the arm. Ugly, bearded, big, with a vicious beak. Didn’t look like any bird he’d ever seen.
The hunter studied the boar-hound, then raised his head and surveyed the area. His gaze passed over their shelter. He peered into the gap. Derek looked into his eyes. Magic rolled over him in a dark cold wave, dousing the agony of silver with ice, and he saw a long, frozen winter night under the moon. He felt the cold snow under his paws. He smelled his own blood, bright and hot, as it fell onto the snow, and heard the long, undulating howl of hungry hounds.
This is the way it always was. This is the way it had to be now. He had to run, run into the trees, before the arrows and hounds found him.
Nice try, asshole.
The urge to run was overwhelming now. It was taking all of his will to just stay still.
A moment dripped by. Derek waited. He was a wolf. He had all the patience in the world.
The hunter whistled softly through his teeth. The boar-hound shook its head and moved on. The hunter turned away, tossed the bird back into the night sky, and the massive horse resumed its steady walk.
They lay still for another three minutes before they quietly slipped out of the gap. Julie grabbed his hand, pointed to the pole, to herself, and up.
Lift me.
He grasped her legs and held her up. She plucked the arrow from the pole and they melted into the night.
THE BIG BUILDING GAPED OPEN, its front wall gone, scattered in pieces on the ground. Half its roof was missing, but the back offered shelter. He was limping now, running slow even for a human.
“Almost there,” Julie whispered.
He squeezed one last burst of movement from his body. He was shutting down.
“Almost there,” she repeated.
He followed her across the dirty floor to the metal staircase leading up, up the stairs and to the far corner of the empty building. He sagged to the ground. She dropped beside him, yanked a small knife out of the sheath on her waist, and pulled his hoodie off. Her eyes went wide.
“It’s over your neck.”
He knew that already. The flesh over his neck and chest felt dead. When she touched it, he felt no pressure. The skin on his chest had turned duct-tape grey.
Cutting the chest wouldn’t do it. The silver was still in his bloodstream and moving up. If it hit his brain, he would die. He had to expel it before it reached that
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