Tempestuous by Lesley Livingston

Author:Lesley Livingston
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Performing Arts, Love & Romance, Actors and actresses, Action & Adventure, Fantasy Fiction, Juvenile Fiction, Fairies, Fantasy & Magic, General, Fantasy, Actors, Entertainment & Performing Arts, Biography & Autobiography, Fiction
ISBN: 9780061740060
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2010-12-21T04:36:15+00:00

Chapter XVII

Sonny tightened his grip on his sword and started to run.

He had spotted Fennrys in a far corner, busily engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Hand-to-hoof, more like—the thing he fought was bestial; the deer-hoofed creature reared and kicked with a viciousness that was as surprising as its mouthful of knifelike teeth. A sianach, it was one of a particularly scarce breed of solitary Fae—even among the Fair Folk, the creature was regarded as almost a nightmarish myth.

But that wasn’t the only reason Sonny was running. Ghost was climbing behind where Fennrys fought the sianach, light glinting off the dagger clutched in his bloodless fist. He would ambush Fennrys from above and drive that knife between the Wolf’s shoulder blades before Fenn even knew what was happening.

Sonny leaped as the pale renegade Janus sprang at Fennrys from above. Sonny’s shoulder caught Ghost high on the side of his rib cage and knocked him from his trajectory. He hit the ground heavily and rolled down an incline. Sonny scrambled after him, struggling to keep his footing on the loose shale of the uneven cavern floor. Ghost twisted in his tumbling and, with the kind of startling agility that had been trained into all the Janus, sprang back to his feet.

He flew at Sonny, eyes rolling white in his head and his mouth open wide, teeth bared in an animal grimace. Sonny shuddered to think of all the Fae that had met their ends at his hands, whether they deserved it or not. He’d never seen anyone so far gone in battle madness—not even Fennrys, with his legendary berserker Viking rages—and the sight of it was horrifying. The corners of Ghost’s screaming mouth were webbed with foam, almost as if he were a rabid dog. He went for Sonny’s eyes, knife in one hand, fingers of the other splayed wide and hooked like talons. Sonny knocked those lethal hands aside with a sweeping block of his forearm and pivoted away as Ghost lunged off-balance to one side. But the other Janus used his sinewy strength to his advantage. Propelled by his own momentum, he snaked back around in front of Sonny to deliver a head-butt to Sonny’s temple that momentarily blinded him and sent him reeling backward.

The next thing Sonny knew, Ghost was on him. His dagger looked as if its black blade had been hewn from obsidian, and it glittered wickedly as it descended toward Sonny’s heart. Sonny fell, his spine slamming into the stone floor, and rolled frantically to the side, taking Ghost with him.

In the scramble, he felt a sudden, sharp jolt.

Sonny gasped as the wetness spread outward from the center of his T-shirt and, heaving Ghost’s tangled limbs away from him, he frantically felt for the wound. There wasn’t one. The knife had not pierced his chest. Instead, the blade had twisted in Ghost’s sweat-slick palm and slid effortlessly between the young man’s ribs. It quivered with the beating of his heart—once, twice . . . and then was still.

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