Sword Sisters by Alex Bledsoe, Tara Cardinal Read Free Book Online Page B

or other small game. The forest was where the big things roamed, and Aaron’s hunting blind told me he was no rabbit-chaser.
    I ran without conscious destination, letting fate and the terrain take me where it would, just as Keefe had suggested. It was exhilarating, and before long, I’d lost all track of direction or distance. I flowed with the terrain, avoiding every obstacle like a breeze or water running downhill.
    At last, I stopped and leaned against a tree. I’d pushed myself, so I was out of breath, and blood pounded in my head. I’d gone farther than I’d ever gone before, but I wasn’t worried about being lost. Hell’s donkeys, it might even be better for everyone if I was lost. I’d become a myth, the Red Reaper who ran into the woods one day and vanished into the mists of time. Later generations could get their kids to behave by telling them I’d come out of the woods and eat them if they didn’t.
    But I could track my own scent back to the castle whenever I wanted. My hair made certain of that. That was irony for you.
    Then my surroundings got my attention. The clearing was about thirty feet across with a covering of leaves and a pair of rocks that—
    By the flame-pissing gods of Mount Gehale. I’d found it.
    Those two rocks were unmistakable. This was it—the clearing where I’d fallen, where Aaron had found me. My heart thudded so hard, I thought that even my supernaturally armored ribs would fail to keep it inside me. This was it.
    Okay, Aella, don’t freak out. It was a long time ago. You can’t be sure.
    But I was sure. Trees might change, plants alter with time, but unless someone came along with a crew of a hundred men, those two rocks would be the same. And they were. One taller, one shorter, both the size of dinner tables. Just as I remembered. Which meant—
    He might be nearby.
    “Oh, boy,” I said aloud and felt myself grow light-headed. Now, my difficulty in breathing had nothing to do with my exertion. He’d be…oh, around twenty now. Taller but no doubt recognizable. Those eyes wouldn’t change.
    Then I had the jolting realization that he might also be married with children—human children that were soft all over without the dangerous spikes Reaper babies sported along their spines. He wouldn’t need special gloves to hold his human children the way he would with ours. And human children wouldn’t accidentally shatter the furniture with their rambunctiousness or bite chunks out of each other in spite.
    I wanted to slap myself. What was I thinking? I had bigger worries, much bigger worries, than the romantic fate of some peasant who’d once been nice to me.
    Then why did it feel like the biggest thing in the world?
    But before I could start having that argument in my head, a woman’s scream rang through the trees.
    I dropped into a crouch, reflexes taking over. Discern direction, my training said. To the west. Determine distance. About a hundred yards although the thick trees and undergrowth made that a loose estimate. Investigate and evaluate danger.
    The scream was human—it would be, out here, where neither Reapers nor Demons traveled. And really, Reapers didn’t scream. We roared, we bellowed, we grunted and snorted, but we didn’t scream. I had screamed during my time with my Demon father, under his tender care, but as everyone was quick to point out, I was different. Perhaps that was what made me clench up inside not with fear but with righteous anger. That scream was not of pain but of terror. I knew that sound all too well.
    I slid through the undergrowth, barely disturbing the plants through which I passed. I thought again about my hair, the scent trail it left behind me, but this time, I wasn’t the one being followed and tracked. No, I was the one on the hunt.
    The air still vibrated from the cry, and as I got closer to the source, I picked up odors on the wind. I was nowhere near as good as Andre, but I was no slouch. The smells were mostly human: sweat,