Page 20 of Speak No Evil

“And Thorne ties it up with that comeback!”

Thorne and Chonk stare at me blankly and fucking Vrahs heads for the door, attempting yet again to muscle and horn his way into the building.

I’m the one who led you lot here, or does a simpleton such as yourself not have such a basic skill as memory recall?

Vrahs’s curling ram horns collide with the door and he flies through the air, sailing right over us this time.

I can’t help a little chuckle. “He must have worked up some serious speed to get that kind of lift,” I murmur to myself as I track his trajectory.

“Memory...? You furry little shit! I dare you to say that again.”

I’m positive you heard me, unless your brain isn’t capable of processing a higher being’s thoughts.

And Chonk pulls ahead with that zinger. Who knew cats were such little savages?

Vrahs winds up for another go at the door, and Thorne dives for Chonk, arms outstretched like he’s about to ring the cat’s neck.

I tap into Thorne’s emotions, and instantly, I’m awash in delicious waves of malice and rage. They settle on my skin like a misty summer rain, coating my clothes, my hair until I feel as though I’m floating in an ink-black sea of so many base emotions.

But as ecstatic as these siphoned emotions are, there’s a tinge of wrongness to them. Something artificial, contrived.

Vrahs headbutts the door once again, and once again, he soars over us as the wards repel him with equal force.

Chonk makes a terrible yowl and jumps six feet straight up to avoid Thorne’s maniacal grip. He lands on Thorne’s shoulders, claws out, and digging in deep, judging by the sharp zing of pain in the air.

But even that has a certain tainted tang.

What is happening here?

I step back, trying to get a better view of the complete picture. Vrahs is hurtling his enormous body toward the door yet again, and actual fur is flying as Thorne rips the orange cat from his shoulders.

Oh shit.

“It’s the wards! They’re fucking with our heads. It’s a distraction to keep us from unmaking them. Pull yourselves together!”

If we’d had our magic, we’d have destroyed the witches’ wards with a thought. But as it is...

We’re all victims.

Chonk hisses and spits before sinking his teeth into the meat of the hand Thorne outstretched to cause even worse damage.

A burst of laughter explodes from me, and I bend over, slapping my knee. “Cat’s gonna kick your ass, brother.”

Thorne shoots me a glare as he tries to shake Chonk off his hand. The cat holds fast, apparently imbued with the jaw strength of a Rottweiler.

Wait.

I shouldn’t be laughing.

There’s something far more important...

“Lucifer’s cock-ring. We’ve got to get ourselves together!” I stomp my foot against the concrete, splitting the slab into multiple pieces on the ground. “Quit dicking around, you fuck-wits. We’ve got to get to Jade!”

“Jade,” Thorne says our witch’s name and the glaze over his golden eyes—one I couldn’t see before because my own eyes were scaled over—falls away. As if her name was the cure for this tricky little ward. He scruffs Chonk, and the cat, beholden to his nature, releases Thorne’s hand.

“Vrahs! Get your big red ass over here and quit trying to break those pretty horns of yours.” I only draw his attention for a moment as he barrels yet a-fucking-gain toward the door.

“We’re here for Jade! Get a grip and let the fucking cat unmake the wards.”