Persie Merlin and the Witch Hunters - Bella Forrest Page 0,23

inland. Below me, the waves crashed against the rocks and I heard seagulls calling in the moonlit sky. I made sure to stay far enough away from the edge to avoid tumbling to my death if I tripped on my own clown feet. The lactic acid building in me felt like fire ants crawling through my muscles, but my mind felt clearer than it had in a long while. I didn’t have to think about anything other than the thud thud thud of my sneakers on the dirt path. And for a while there, I was at risk of thinking Genie had a point about the perks of running.

I ran a little further to a lookout spot, which featured a solitary bench dedicated to an “Irene Cadman,” and stopped for a breather. I braced for the expected onslaught from my tiny trainers, but it didn’t come. I was about to turn to figure out what was keeping them when I heard a low, menacing growl drift from a thicket of gorse bushes that bordered the lookout spot.

Has someone lost their dog? I thought, trying to stave off the encroaching nerves. Rabid dogs weren’t really a thing on this rustic Galway island, and I doubted wolves had paddled their way across from the mainland, but there were probably one or two lovable strays roaming around. If only that growl had sounded more canine-like, I might’ve been able to convince myself I had nothing to worry about. But it was deeper, gruffer, and a little more… monster-like than that.

The pixies swept forward, linking arms in front of me. Boudicca glanced back, screeching at the top of her lungs, her eyes wide and terrified. I didn’t need to understand the language; all I had to do was look at the vivid crimson spots that pulsed across her body. She wanted me to run. Far away, and now.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” I urged.

She opened her mouth to answer. Instead of pixie words, a strained gargle bubbled out, as though someone held her throat in a vise. Without warning, her eyes rolled back, and her glowing lights dimmed to a barely discernible throb. She fell from the air, Cynane and Spartacus following suit. I lurched forward to catch them before they hit the ground. Against the pale shade of my hands, it looked as though all of the color—and life—had drained out of them.

I jostled them gently, praying they would wake. “What did you see? What made that noise?”

Setting the limp pixies on the bench, I took a breath and stepped toward the shadows of the gorse bushes. “Hello? Is someone there?” A few steps shy, I staggered back in horror as two red, flaming eyes ignited in the darkness. Growing larger by the second. Coming right for me. I was aware of a sudden heat rushing over my skin, like a desert wind. But I didn’t even have time to scream before all the lights went out.

Six

Nathan

In all my life, I’d never felt such pressure to avoid stilted silence with another person. Conversation with Genie had become an imperative need rather than a relaxed flow. I longed for a list of memorized bullet points that I could bring up casually, but my mind had turned to unintelligible mush, a mire of awkwardness preventing me from tapping into my social skills. She appeared interested in the things I had to say, like my description of the feeding frenzy that rompos went into when they smelled meat, but she listened more than she spoke. I wanted to know more about her—I wanted her to fill the gaps with anecdotes. But she seemed more reticent than usual, perhaps affected by the same awkwardness I felt.

“Uh… how about these?” We’d finished the feeding rounds, and I was desperate to continue engaging her. I pointed to a large orb up ahead. “They’re leprechauns. Very prevalent in Ireland and notorious mischief-makers. If you’re ever fortunate enough to catch one, don’t take your eyes off it—not even for a second—or it’ll disappear and you’ll never find out where it’s hiding its pot of gold.”

I led her to the orb where four of the creatures resided. Glowering at me with obvious disdain, they were amongst that select group of Purge beasts that I simply couldn’t win over. One puffed on a pipe with such vehemence that I wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t lit it with the fire of his own fury. A second sat with his back to the glass and