RISING SHADOWS (Shadows Book 2)

Chapter 30

It had been a long time since I'd slept so well. There were no creeping nightmares, no fitful pattern of broken sleep. It felt like the closest to peace I've ever been and perhaps never will be again.

The heat from Rafe's body radiated behind me. There was a rush of heat to my cheeks as I recalled every moan from our lips and the feel of his body moving against mine.

I needed him again.

"Morning," I half-turned, sleep clutching at much of my voice.

Rafe was sitting up, bathed in the soft glow of dawn, tension pulling the lines of his body taut. It didn't take long for me to feel what he was sensing. The nape of my neck prickled, the air humming with an unnatural energy. Something was wrong.

I sat up quickly, grasping the bedsheets at my chest. I winced at a short, sharp sting reminding me of our activities last night.

Rafe's eyes were still trained on the door. All of a sudden, rain pounded the glass windows, as if it was desperate to break in. As if it was fleeing some great horror.

"Demons," I said quietly.

"Get dressed. Quickly."

It took longer to locate my scattered garments than it did to pull them on as Rafe did the same.

"It's definitely demons, right?" I asked, as I sat on the bed to pull on my boots.

"I think so," Rafe pulled on his jeans, buttoning them at his waist.

Demons, demons, demons. I repeated the word in my head to stop myself being distracted. I would much rather Rafe take those jeans back off to spend the morning in bed with me.

The thought didn't get a chance to develop further. One second we were hastily dressing, and the next, the door was blown in, splintered wood whistling through the air like daggers thrown. I ducked down by the side of the bed, a few shards shaving the top of my head. Rafe had been thrown back against the stone fireplace. He gave a dull groan, and fell to the floor.

Rafe stirred on the ground. Pieces of wooden debris fell from his shoulders as he pushed himself up. A layer of brown dust coated his hair. His eyes lifted to me gauging I'd not been hurt.

Lifting my head and shoulders over the side of the bed, I found a monstrosity filling the stone arch where the door used to be.

These demons I had heard of. They were the monsters in the childhood stories Gran would tell me, they were the scare-tactic to make sure I made the right offerings to the Goddess or that I ate my peas. The Nuckelavee were the stuff of my nightmares.

It waded into the room, pushing forward on powerful fin-like appendages.

"Don't let it breathe on you," Rafe said. "Oh god," Rafe swore, covering his nose with his sleeve.

The stench was unbearable, all the worst smells of the sea. Rotting fish and tangled piles of mouldy seaweed. My head started swimming.

The sea-devil bellowed, a sound that vibrated the whole room, knocking Rafe's books and trinkets from their places. I dared to take another peek. It stood tall, a creature born of nightmares - a horse's head fused onto a human torso. All of it was devoid of skin, all twisted sinews and exposed muscles, pulsing with a lifeblood that seemed to pulse within its yellow veins.

I sank back down, my back against the bed. What kills a Nuckelavee? Consuming fire? No, that was what killed a morosar. Rafe crawled over to me, coming to rest at my side. The sound of the creature sloshing towards us grew louder.

"Fresh water," he gasped. "Sea-devils cannot survive in freshwater."

I smacked my palm against my forehead. "Of course. That I can do."