He returned his attention to the scenery racing past him. The snowy wonderland all looked much the same as it flashed by them.
The hair rising on his nape, however, was new.
Jaral scowled, looking closer. His body was tense, no longer enjoying the endless ride. Every instinct he had was roaring to life. Was he missing something? He scanned the world beyond his window. Something was out there, waiting.
He studied the open fields hugging the road before looking toward the cloudy gray sky.
There. Something lurked in those clouds.
“Stop the car,” he ordered.
“What?”
“Stop. Now.”
Without further protest Darcy did as he asked. He launched himself out of the vehicle as soon as it slowed.
Snow crunched under his feet as he walked into the field by the side of the road. No other drivers were on this stretch of pavement. At least there was a bit of luck in that. No reason to draw unsuspecting mortals into a fight.
“What is it?” Darcy demanded, running to his side. Her breath turned to vapor in the cold air, puffing around her worried face. He noted she had her daggers and felt a moment’s relief. If something was coming for them, he knew she could protect herself.
“Tell me what’s happening.”
He pointed toward the sky. “We’re about to have company.”
“Friends of yours?”
He shook his head. “Apparently someone has heard of our plan. I’d bet it’s not a popular one among the spirits.”
“We’ve got the car. Can’t we—”
He shook his head. “They will flip it with us inside. I doubt that is an attack you would survive.”
“Who is they?”
“Spirits, like my kin, come in all shapes and sizes. The ones hunting us use the air to hide from their prey.” A slight grin crossed his face. “I believe this breed may be responsible for your poltergeist myths.”
“Angry ghosts are coming for us?”
Snow blew up from the ground in a flurry to their right, cutting off his reply. In the white landscape the nearly transparent spirits were devilishly hard to see.
“Watch the ground,” Jaral instructed. He called his broadsword to him with his magic, and the weapon appeared in his hand.
Snow crunched and he lunged forward. His blade sliced through flesh, transparent though it might be. Black blood stained the ground as an unearthly cry erupted from the skewered spirit. More snow kicked up into the air as the body dropped to the ground. A faint distortion in the air showed where the spirit lay, hard to see but there all the same.
“I think understand this game,” Darcy said, scanning the area around them.
A puff of snow gave away another spirit’s location and Darcy darted forward with speed aided by the demon magic still circulating in her veins. Her daggers flashed as she engaged her prey.
Jaral watched for a moment to ensure her safety. The spirit was wily but Darcy held her own and managed to land an attack. It was a shallow cut but still enough to create a black stain hanging in the air before her. Using the blood to help her track her target’s location, Darcy rushed forward.
Good girl, he thought as he turned his attention back to the creatures no doubt surrounding him.
Flame leapt to his free hand and he cast the magic out. Fire blasted through the air but made no contact. Instead it melted the snow and created a blind spot.
“Damn,” he muttered. No more fire for him.
A tiny sound drew his attention before pain exploded from his shoulder. Something had raked him with sharp teeth. He spun low and attacked. Half of his blows swung through empty air but the rest made contact. Blood splattered the ground around him, giving him targets to fight.
Darcy dispatched her spirit and ran to help him. He saw her launch herself at one of the transparent creatures as he drove his blade through what he assumed was the stomach of another.
Indentations in the snow marked where bleeding bodies had fallen. Looked like they’d made their way through a fair number of their opponents.
Darcy slashed her blade through the air and was rewarded with a spray of blood. She stepped away from the fallen body before looking to him.
“Is that all of them?” she demanded.
He shook his head. Something was still out there or his instincts would have calmed. Turning, he scanned the snowy ground looking for any clues.
“You’re bleeding,” Darcy said.
“I’m fine.” No sooner had the words left him than he was knocked from his feet.
Jaral crashed to the earth, a heavy body riding him down. Claws stabbed into his shoulder, forcing a roar of pain from him.
“Jaral!”
The embedded claws might hold his arm immobile but it also trapped the spirit attacking him. With a vicious smile he slammed his good hand into the creature’s chest and unleashed his fire.