Changed by Fire (Phoenix Rising #6) - Harper Wylde Page 0,33

for you to work on your mental powers. Ciarán’s fast, but you should be able to force him to slow down—if you can get past his wall, of course. And Ciarán, dream walker powers do extend into the waking realm. You’re mastering your powers while your opponent is asleep, so let’s see what you can do with them while your opponent is awake. Connect his mind with yours, touch his soul.” He smirked before adding, “Of course, to up the challenge, let’s add the physical match into this as well.” Ciarán and I groaned in unison before we shared a smile that felt, well, brotherly. “On my count. Three, two, one—begin!”

Eight

Joshua

The sun had just climbed over the horizon, casting long shadows across the ground as the Councilmen moved through the village. Our long robes brushed against the snow, weaving patterns into the white piles that reminded me of slithering snakes. It was a fitting comparison, given that I was one, but though I had a deadly bite, I was the least deadly mythological among this group. For my own survival, I never let myself forget it either.

Curtains fluttered in the windows, and I looked over just in time to see a mother pull her child away from the glass and hurriedly shut the fabric. The crimson hooded robes we wore were enough to foster fear, but it was the evil, lethal glint in Stepanov’s eyes and the gleeful smirk that curved Maldonado’s lips that gave the Council what they so greatly desired—a reign of terror.

My heart beat out of my chest, and it took everything in me to keep in step with the others. My father’s stern glances across the group were a warning to heed my reactions and prepare myself. I swallowed down the bile that rose to scald the back of my throat. I had no intel as to what our purpose was here, but whatever it was had been enough to get Stepanov and Maldonado out of the throne room and into the cold. That alone did not bode well, and neither did the nearly oppressive, ominous cloud that seemed to be following in our wake.

Stepanov and Maldonado led the way through the streets with Rahal, Ishida, my father, and me trailing behind them in an unformed group. I breathed deeply, trying to see whose territory we were in, and though scenting wasn’t a strength of mine, I caught traces of foxes and wolves. It made sense given the diminishing quality of the houses and the number of repairs that needed to be made to the outbuildings. Regular shifters never earned enough to keep up with their territories, and the Council didn’t allocate funds outside of the mythological shifters’ needs unless it was for infrastructure like the medical center or schools. The sheer class difference between mythologicals and the other shifters had always bothered me. The disparity between us was wrong on so many levels and just one of the things I wanted to change when we overthrew these bastards. I reined in my thoughts, wary of who could be listening in. If Damien had taught me anything, it was that not even your internal musings were safe around the Council.

We finally reached a church nestled on the edge of the village, the spire shooting up into the overcast sky. Movement from the woods caught my eye, and I noticed at least a dozen of the Council’s soldiers surrounding the building. My dread built. I met my father’s gaze and he shook his head subtly, warning me to act the role I’d signed up to play.

Without ceremony, Stepanov burst through the door, knocking the wood at an odd angle and splintering it on its hinges in a display of power that had the preacher rushing down the aisle toward the intruding parties until he saw just who had defiled his church.

“Oh.” He stopped cold, bowing at the waist as he groveled to a cool, calculating Stepanov. “I’m sorry, Councilman. I didn’t realize it was you.”

Stepanov looked down his nose as though he was too high and mighty to deal with the peasant under his rule, but he stalked forward, eyeing the man with contempt as he started to circle him. The preacher stepped into his path, blocking him from advancing any farther into the church. I wanted to close my eyes and groan at the mistake he’d just made. Far more than a social faux pas, Stepanov would view it as sheer defiance. The Councilman had killed