spell were already faltering, which meant that she was no longer invisible. The beasts she continued to hear could find her now. As could those ghouls.
Would that vampire demon search for her during the day, or would the dim sunlight be enough to confine him to the shadows?
She lifted her gaze to the brown, hazy sky and felt no warmth. With the dust buffeted about, he probably could emerge, especially since he was a halfling of sorts.
But here's hoping the vemon holes up.
Just as she was licking her chapped lips, her stomach growled again. Water, food. Gods, she hated the outdoors! She'd always found it hellish--and that was before the outdoors had been situated in hell . Bizarre plants sprouted in profusion here, all petrified, of course. Nothing was green in this place.
Keep going, Carrow. One stinging foot in front of the other. She found a rock face and tromped alongside it, figuring she could be ambushed only from three sides.
After an hour of following the rock and "hunting," she concluded that there were no Big Gulps to be self-served or juicy berries to be plucked, no mouthwatering steaks growing on trees or ice cream ripe for harvesting.
Frack.
Half-delirious, she muttered, "I haaaaaate this place."
This was all Slaine's fault. He had to go all batshit crazy on her. Because he'd made her flee, her thirst and every blister on her feet were his fault. Dixon had nailed him dead to rights: brutish, filthy, severely disturbed. I despise his abominable ass!
Urban Carrow shouldn't ever be in a place like this, wouldn't be if not for him. She raised her grubby hands to her tangled hair, plucking free a twig .
Frack, frack, frack.
She noticed her clunky ring was loose on her finger. The Order's gruel diet had done a number on her previously wood-worthy figure. With a weary sigh, she lowered her hands to stare at her emerald ring.
Carrow's parents had given it to her on her twelfth birthday, directly before they'd abandoned her at Andoain.
Her father had visited there once, years later, to get her into college. Upon leaving, he'd absently patted her on the head, saying, "Send us report cards, and we'll continue sending money."
When she'd dropped out--because there was little happiness to be found on campus during finals--she'd sent a letter to her parents instead of a report card. In it, she'd written: "If you're actually taking the time to read this, then go to hell and shove your money up your asses."
Without fail, the next check had come.
I'd never treat Ruby as they did me. Reminded of why she was here, Carrow tried to reason out a game plan.
Since this demon was violently out of control, she couldn't even approach him, much less communicate with him. The Order's plan--witch lures vemon to portal--was laughable.
She narrowed her eyes. Had those mortals known she was Slaine's mate? How could they have? Unless they had an oracle or some sort of immortal stoolie slipping them intel.
Maybe that was why Carrow had been chosen so specifically for capture. It wasn't as if they'd just stumbled across her and decided on a nab. They'd sprung her from County.
If the Order had known, then she surely couldn't trust them.
Yet she had to operate under the assumption that they would let her go. Again she thought, What are two witches to them? And Carrow still had no idea where their island was. The Order wouldn't suspect she had the wherewithal to lead anyone back to the facility.
Because she
Would that vampire demon search for her during the day, or would the dim sunlight be enough to confine him to the shadows?
She lifted her gaze to the brown, hazy sky and felt no warmth. With the dust buffeted about, he probably could emerge, especially since he was a halfling of sorts.
But here's hoping the vemon holes up.
Just as she was licking her chapped lips, her stomach growled again. Water, food. Gods, she hated the outdoors! She'd always found it hellish--and that was before the outdoors had been situated in hell . Bizarre plants sprouted in profusion here, all petrified, of course. Nothing was green in this place.
Keep going, Carrow. One stinging foot in front of the other. She found a rock face and tromped alongside it, figuring she could be ambushed only from three sides.
After an hour of following the rock and "hunting," she concluded that there were no Big Gulps to be self-served or juicy berries to be plucked, no mouthwatering steaks growing on trees or ice cream ripe for harvesting.
Frack.
Half-delirious, she muttered, "I haaaaaate this place."
This was all Slaine's fault. He had to go all batshit crazy on her. Because he'd made her flee, her thirst and every blister on her feet were his fault. Dixon had nailed him dead to rights: brutish, filthy, severely disturbed. I despise his abominable ass!
Urban Carrow shouldn't ever be in a place like this, wouldn't be if not for him. She raised her grubby hands to her tangled hair, plucking free a twig .
Frack, frack, frack.
She noticed her clunky ring was loose on her finger. The Order's gruel diet had done a number on her previously wood-worthy figure. With a weary sigh, she lowered her hands to stare at her emerald ring.
Carrow's parents had given it to her on her twelfth birthday, directly before they'd abandoned her at Andoain.
Her father had visited there once, years later, to get her into college. Upon leaving, he'd absently patted her on the head, saying, "Send us report cards, and we'll continue sending money."
When she'd dropped out--because there was little happiness to be found on campus during finals--she'd sent a letter to her parents instead of a report card. In it, she'd written: "If you're actually taking the time to read this, then go to hell and shove your money up your asses."
Without fail, the next check had come.
I'd never treat Ruby as they did me. Reminded of why she was here, Carrow tried to reason out a game plan.
Since this demon was violently out of control, she couldn't even approach him, much less communicate with him. The Order's plan--witch lures vemon to portal--was laughable.
She narrowed her eyes. Had those mortals known she was Slaine's mate? How could they have? Unless they had an oracle or some sort of immortal stoolie slipping them intel.
Maybe that was why Carrow had been chosen so specifically for capture. It wasn't as if they'd just stumbled across her and decided on a nab. They'd sprung her from County.
If the Order had known, then she surely couldn't trust them.
Yet she had to operate under the assumption that they would let her go. Again she thought, What are two witches to them? And Carrow still had no idea where their island was. The Order wouldn't suspect she had the wherewithal to lead anyone back to the facility.
Because she
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