Thom’s heart slammed into his throat the second Phelan crumpled to the snow as if something had suddenly broken every bone in his body. Thom crashed to his knees next to his fallen friend, swearing heartily. Suddenly, the Greys swarming toward the wards didn’t matter, the members of the Wild Hunt slamming into the enemy like a wave crashing over breakers was a small thing.
“Phelan! Dammit, Phelan, now isn’t the time for this kind of shit!”
J.T. grabbed Thom by the shoulder and hauled him upright. “Worry about that,” J.T. snapped, stabbing a finger toward the Greys and the wards. “Let me worry about this jackass.”
“He said he was–”
“I heard him.” J.T. crouched and hauled Phelan up, slinging the unconscious man over his shoulder. “It’s something to sort out later. Deal with this problem now before we can’t.”
Frakking… Thom shook himself, swallowing another curse. He strode forward and dropped to one knee in the snow, reaching for the wards so lovingly cared-for by his wife.
Dammit, I hope I know what I’m doing.
His fingers wrapped around the stone and he sucked in a sharp breath as lightning shot up his arm to his shoulder joint. The ground shuddered beneath him and his nostrils flared.
You can do this. You have to do this.
He shunted the force of his will into the warding lines and the world exploded into silver light.
Above the sound of inhuman screams, he could hear mocking laughter in the distance.
His blood went cold and his stomach dropped.
Hell. This is worse than we thought.
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