Series: The Weavers Circle Series by Jocelynn Drake
Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 108405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“Grey?” Calder started.
“Kill the pestilents. The humans are free. Baer is getting Cort out of the mall,” Grey barked.
“Got it covered!” Calder shouted as Grey ran by him.
Grey’s sneakers slipped on the wet tile and he nearly crashed to the floor a couple of times, but he got through the crowd of people trying to go the opposite direction toward the exits. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his lungs were burning from the combination of smoke and exertion. A headache was forming behind his eyes from the constant use of his powers, and a sneaky, fearful voice warned that the spell that had healed his eyes was going to give out. If he kept pushing himself, he was going to lose his vision, lose his powers, permanently.
“No!” he snarled to himself as he caught sight of John cutting through the Christmas village. Even if he lost his vision, he wasn’t going to stop. John had used him to kill his brothers. The fucking pestilent was going to kill them all again, and this time, he was going after Grey’s mate as well. Grey had to stop him.
If he lost his vision, at least he got to see Cort’s smile once. Got to see the love shining in his beautiful chestnut eyes. Those memories would last him an eternity if he managed to kill John now and protect his family.
With both guns clenched in his fists, Grey jumped over the decorative white fence that ringed Santa’s village. Cheery, fake buildings rose up to about Grey’s shoulders, painted to look like Santa’s village at the North Pole. There was a workshop, a candy shop, and even a stable for his reindeer. It almost seemed sacrilegious for Grey to be sneaking through holding two guns while covered in a mix of sweat, blood, soot, and fountain water. Or maybe this was just a deleted scene from one of those Die Hard movies. The one where John McClane kicks Santa’s ass.
If only he were as tough as Bruce Willis. No, Grey was just a writer who happened to also be a part-time Weaver destined to save the world.
Crouching low so that his head was beneath the top of the buildings, Grey edged through the village, trying to get a line of sight on John without giving himself away. As he neared the giant red chair where Santa held court, a massive candy cane was swung at his head like a baseball bat. Grey fell to his knees and brought his guns up as the plastic decoration crashed into the building behind him and got stuck.
As he took aim, he found himself staring up at a girl who couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen dressed in green and red. Bells jingled each time she jerked at the candy cane, trying to pull it free. He lowered his guns and concentrated on removing the enthrallment from her mind. As he started to free the girl, something large and velvety red slammed into him, knocking him over. He landed on his back, skidding across the floor until his head hit the white fence. The guns were knocked loose and went in opposite directions across the floor.
Grey blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head. But there was no clearing it. Santa Claus was bearing down on him, swinging his big red sack like a wrecking ball.
“Are you fucking shitting me?” Grey snapped, barely managing to roll out of the way before the bag slammed to the floor again. Grabbing the first thing he could wrap his hands around, Grey launched a plastic reindeer at Santa and his not-so-jolly elf. Both attackers paused and retreated enough to give Grey a chance to slip into their minds. He ripped them free of the spell, wincing at the pain that lanced through his brain. He was running on fucking fumes and needed to catch John now.
Pushing to his feet, Grey winced as muscles protested and his shoulders ached from hitting the tiles. Santa and the elf swayed a little on their feet, looking dazed. Grey scooped up his guns and told the pair to get out of the mall as he ran after John’s retreating form.
The pestilent darted into a narrow hallway that led to a public bathroom and a loading dock. Fuck. He was escaping the mall.
Grey charged after him, his legs like wet noodles, but he pushed on. Lucien reached him at the mouth of the hall, and they ran together, exploding through door after door until they hit bright sunlight and the sound of approaching sirens. Grey blinked rapidly, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the midday glare.
But the moment they did, he realized it was too late. John paused next to a sports car and waved a jaunty salute to Grey, then jumped into the passenger seat. Tires squealed and smoke filled the air a second before the car barreled across the parking lot.