Persie Merlin and the Witch Hunters - Bella Forrest Page 0,120

out of my mouth and pummeled skyward.

You would run, if you had any sense… But they didn’t. Their desire to capture me was greater than their fear of what I was doing. Either that, or they didn’t fully understand what was happening and the danger they were in.

As the mist arced down to the floor, it began to take shape. Enormous, bulging legs with clawed feet, each talon as long and sharp as the blade of a hunting knife, the muscular limbs coated in a thick layer of coarse maroon fur. More of the creature appeared, revealing an abdomen of dense armor-plating, striped with white and navy. Above that was an armored chest, broader than I was tall, followed by eye-popping biceps and arms that ended in sharp claws that were only marginally smaller than its talons. A long neck, protected by more bands of that natural armor, finally revealed the creature’s head. Vaguely leonine, it had burning red eyes and three sharp horns nestled between two flicking feline ears, and a mouth full of dagger-like teeth. The beast stood there, gorgeous and fierce, smoke pouring from his nostrils.

I’d seen this beast before, but not in a book or a dream—rather, somewhere I couldn’t place.

The beast turned to me and bowed, one arm in front of its abdomen and one behind its back, like a gentleman. I guessed it was a male of its species. As he bent, I noticed jagged spines protruding from his back, like a gigantic porcupine. Rising to his full height once more, he growled, as if to say, “I’m awaiting orders.”

Exhausted to the bone, I simply glanced at the witch hunters, who all looked as though they were about to faint. “Them,” was all I said.

He immediately homed in on his targets. Two of the smart ones turned tail and ran, sprinting out of the fishery before they had the chance to find out what this monster could do. As for the others, they panicked and began flinging their weapons at my creature. The electric boomerangs bounced off the armor, and the hex bags were swiped out of the way by the monster’s huge paws as he marched toward victory. He unleashed an almighty screech that brought a torrent of napalm-like fire out of his mouth, the near-liquid flames thundering downward. The fire enveloped the squat strangler completely, and when the torrent disappeared, there was no trace to suggest that there’d ever been a person there. Complete incineration.

My monster launched an attack on another witch hunter—the boomerang-throwing harpy who’d zapped Genie. As he incinerated that particular devil, the other witch hunters seemed to realize that their moment of glory had packed its bags and left the building. Shouting in fear, they ran for their lives.

The monster looked back at me and bowed, like he was asking, “Am I done?”

“For now, thank you,” I replied. He stood at ease with his arms folded behind his back and his chin lifted proudly, waiting, soldier-like, for further instructions. If I hadn’t been totally exhausted, I would’ve been more intrigued by the sentience of this particular beast. More than anything I’d ever Purged before, he seemed to understand exactly what I was saying, and I him. The pixies and I had come a long way, but our understanding had taken time and patience, while this appeared to be immediate.

Now, I had one distraction left to deal with: Reid hadn’t fled with the others. He stood there, still on the sidelines, watching me.

What do I do with you, huh?

As if sensing that he had another order to fulfil, my monster turned and glared at Reid with burning eyes. Without waiting for permission, he stalked toward my kidnapper, like a predator hunting its prey.

Thirty-Two

Persie

My armored, fire-spitting, colossal creation dropped to all fours, the click of his huge claws on the hard floor a foreboding omen as he approached Reid. I stood surrounded by the remaining ashes of Gren, my pixies perched on my shoulders, unable to utter a single sound to stop my new Purge from attacking the man I’d come here to help. I knew I should say something, but my head felt too fuzzy with fury and grief and betrayal and the draining fatigue of Purging something so… gargantuan. There was no other word for him. Weirder still, he seemed to be the living embodiment of all those intense emotions that hammered through my veins: the anger, the resentment, the hurt, the loss, the wrenching anguish of having my