Dusk Avenger (Flirting with Monsters #3) - Eva Chase Page 0,89

entire Company going up in flames,” I said. “Then maybe we can spark a few metaphorical fires around here.”

“I will happily take that rain check.”

I had the urge to pass some of that loving on to Thorn too, but when we emerged into the RV, there was no sign of him. Flint sat at one end of the sofa-bench looking at a mug in front of him as if he wasn’t quite sure whether to drink from it or crush it with his rock-like fist. Gloam was meandering through the hall in full droop-mode. Antic flashed into visibility at the sight of me, balancing on one hand on the edge of the counter with her spindly legs wheeling in the air.

I cracked a smile mostly so that she’d be satisfied that she’d gotten a reaction from me and quit goofing around.

“The first big dude went off to check for bad guys,” she said as she flipped onto her feet, anticipating my question.

“Thorn said he would return shortly,” Flint added. I’d always thought Thorn’s voice was low and rumbling, but compared to Flint’s thunderous tones, our original wingéd was a soprano.

I plopped down onto the sofa across from him and nodded to the coffee cooling in his mug. “Typically that stuff is better enjoyed hot.”

He gave it a skeptical glance. “I have not consumed mortal provisions in many centuries. I hesitate to begin now.”

Antic bobbed beside us as if debating snatching the mug for herself but seemed to decide it wasn’t worth the possibility of pissing off a shadowkind of Flint’s stature. She settled for pouring some out of the pot into two new mugs, splashing the brown liquid liberally on the floor and counter alike, and plunking one of those down in front of me.

“What’s the plan?” she asked in an intrepid tone, taking a noisy swig from her mug.

What was the plan? We’d been going to figure that out once we got here, assuming Omen would have plenty to contribute. Now…

I might have suggested we wait and see if Thorn’s patrol turned up the hellhound shifter, but before I could speak, the warrior emerged from the shadows, his mouth set at a pained angle. My heart sank. No luck in that respect, clearly.

We had to go forward without Omen then. If he didn’t like the plans we made in his absence, then he shouldn’t have fucking absented himself.

I dragged in a breath and looked around the table. All of my shadowkind companions were watching me. Somehow I’d become the substitute boss when the regular one was away. No pressure there.

My gaze caught Flint’s metallic brown eyes—and a hail of impressions burst in my head.

I wasn’t in the RV anymore but in the middle of a battlefield scattered with bloody bodies, more figures charging over them with blades gleaming. The stink of gore flooded my nose, and clangs and groans filled my ears. Someone hurtled right past me, knocking me to the side hard enough to make my arm throb—

And I was back on the sofa, gasping and shaking as my mind reeled.

“Sorsha!” Thorn grasped my shoulder and stared at his comrade. The other wingéd grimaced, lowering his gaze.

“My apologies, mortal,” he said in that deepest of deep voices. “My particular talent is to spark visions of horror—I would generally only apply it to my enemies. I’ve used it so little in so long, I’m no longer as used to moderating it. I didn’t intend to aim that memory toward you.”

A memory. So that was one glimpse of the brutality he and Thorn had managed to survive, to their apparent disappointment. I set my hand over my warrior’s, letting his touch steady me. My heart was still racing, but a sharper sense of determination rose through the dwindling panic.

That kind of brutality wasn’t so different from how we’d approached our conflicts with the Company so far. Rush in, burn them to cinders or rip their heads from their necks—y’know, whatever suited our particular skill set best. But we’d found another way back in Chicago. Sure, the plan I’d suggested there had ended with a fiery skirmish anyway, but there’d been at least a little less death and destruction than before. Give me a little credit for a partial win, won’t you?

I might have been part shadowkind, and I might have accepted the fact that I enjoyed laying down with monsters, but that didn’t mean we had to prove the stereotypes right. We could use the same tactics as in Chicago,