Stryker (Boys of Wynter Book 1) by Tess Oliver

Author:Tess Oliver [Oliver, Tess]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sugartree Press
Published: 2017-06-16T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Stryker

I hated Banshees. They weren't even natural to Wynter. They were like one of those invasive animal species accidentally or maliciously introduced to an ecosystem just to muck the place up. They were squirty white beings that had no purpose except to annoy. And they screamed. They fucking screamed until you wanted to figure out a way to rip your own ears off just to never hear the sound again. Fortunately, Flint had more skills than just annoying me when I was already in a bad mood. He was, as Nessa had liked to boast, as smart as a whip and as cool as a shade covered pond. I was the strategic problem solver when it came to things like cornering a pack of rabid hobgoblins in a place that had no actual corners, but Flint was good at inventing things, like banshee proof ear plugs. He'd experimented with rubber compounds for months until he finally created a substance that could be shaped and reshaped to fit any ear, even a horse's ear. At the same time, the substance was so close to a molecular solid it blocked out even the shrill screams of a crazy ass banshee. And the long haired creature Rogue and I had been chasing around Wynter's border for the last ten minutes was definitely crazy ass. It grew more frenzied as it slowly figured out that its only real defense, a deafening scream, wasn't working its usual magic on the hunter chasing it down.

After a long work shift, I was feeling the effects of my injury. I probably could have used a few days off, but I was sure I'd go mad sitting around with nothing to do except think about Willow. I wondered just how long it would take me to stop thinking about her. I figured the lingering weakness and pain from my injury would be long gone before I could even spend a slice of the day not thinking about her.

A ivory colored wisp of tattered clothing curled around a hole that spewed up boiling sulfur. Boiling sulfur was a signal that the area was dotted with sludge holes, the same deep, sticky pits that'd snapped Flint's leg in two. I couldn't take a chance with Rogue. I could survive a broken leg. It would be a different story for Rogue. And after the horse had sensed that I needed him and risked being seen by transforming from machine to animal in the mortal world, I knew I had a loyal friend, a friend I never wanted to let down by making a careless mistake.

I climbed off Rogue's back and he looked back at me with wide, curious nostrils. I patted his neck and motioned for him to stand still. My side ached as if someone had run a burning hot torch across it, but the work day was nearly done. I just needed to take care of one more creepy pest.

The banshee's black hole eyes turned to giant ovals as it saw me lumbering after it on foot.

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