Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 130619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Micah shoves me to the side and holds out his hand, revealing an asset I didn’t know him to possess: some sort of energy rocketing from him toward Jeremy. Jeremy absorbs the impact in his chest, flying in the air several feet and bouncing off a tree. Sara howls inside me, her presence strengthening my magic in some unexplainable way. I lift my hand, a ball of flames rising above it, but Micah has rifted, now standing in front of Jeremy, engaging with him. If I hit Jeremy, I hit Micah.
A cluster of at least six demons rushes at Micah from behind, and again, I can’t use my fire for fear of burning Micah. Instead, I reach for my stars, and by the time the first three are ash, I’m behind the other three. They’ve turned to me, full attention on surviving, not attacking. I use my blade with precision, having learned its magic is as effective at turning demons to ash as a star.
With the demons gone, I whip around to find Jeremy and Micah are no longer by the tree but battling one-on-one, each with a sword in hand, and I watch in horror as they each plant their blades in the belly of the other.
The Sacred Book of Nephilim
Destiny will claim you, no matter how hard and far you run.
Chapter forty-eight
It’s as if the world is moving in slow motion.
Jeremy yanks the sword from Micah’s body, and blood gushes from the wound. Micah begins to fall, even as Jeremy slowly slides the sword from his own body, not a drop of blood to be found. Rage erupts from some deep cavernous place inside me, and fire fills my hand as I hurl it at the demon with rocket speed. Jeremy disappears the moment it would have burned him alive, his laughter echoing through the air.
Only then do I become aware of Silas and Gabriella framing me, of them directing our troops to look for Jeremy, to watch for him, only then am I aware of the way I tremble from the adrenaline rush, from my fear for Micah. I tune out everything but him, rushing to his side and falling to my knees next to him. “Micah.” He tries to sit up, excruciating pain wrenching his face, and I force him down. “No, you stubborn man. You are immortal with limits. You can still bleed out.”
“Why are you here?” he demands, his voice weak. “I told you—to wait.”
“You can’t boss me around like you do everyone else. We fight together.” I press my hand to the wound, applying pressure, scared for him all over again. “You’re bleeding too much.”
Celine is suddenly opposite me, her hand cupping Micah’s face. “Micah,” she whispers. “I’ve got you. I’ll get you to the garrison.”
Every part of me screams in rejection. I don’t trust her. He doesn’t trust her. She’s not taking him anywhere when he’s injured like this and unable to protect himself. “Back off, Celine,” I order, no give to my voice, and there will be no challenge between us. Not now. Not while Micah is barely hanging on, not when I can feel the weakness in him, and it’s terrifying me.
“And leave him to you?” she demands. “Never. I don’t trust you. He needs help.”
“I’m his help.” I spread my hand and will heat to my palm, the surface turning orange.
“What are you doing?” she demands in earnest. “What are you?”
“Saving his life before he bleeds out. Get back.”
Instead, she launches herself at me. I lift my hand, and flames lick the air in her direction. She scrambles backward and thankfully away.
“Territorial much?” Micah manages to whisper, a weak attempt at a smile curving one side of his mouth, a white line above his upper lip.
“Yes,” I bite out. “I am. It’s my turn to save your life. I’m going to cauterize your wounds.” I inch closer to him and warn, “It’s going to hurt.”
“Do it,” he breathes out. “Do it now.”
Silas, Braylon, and Zeke huddle around us, all on their knees. “Fuck me,” Silas curses, inspecting the wound. “We need to stop the bleeding.”
Zeke’s eyes meet mine. “That’s exactly what Ember plans to do,” and when I look at Braylon, he offers me a nod of approval.
I will the fire away, my palm burning orange again, and with Micah’s closest friends watching, the worry distorting their expressions I know they fear for Micah, and if I want to save him, there’s no time for hesitation. I don’t warn Micah what’s coming. He knows. I flatten my hands on top of his gaping wound. His body jerks with the burn and he grunts and groans, gritting his teeth before he goes limp. “He’s fine,” I assure everyone, including me. “He passed out,” I add, feeling his heartbeat in my chest, as if it were my own, knowing that would sound crazy if I said it out loud. I also know the moment the wound is cauterized but he’s far from out of trouble. He’s bleeding from the other side. “Turn him over,” I order quickly and more urgently, “Turn him over!”