Return to the Shadows (Shadows #2)

  ***

  It was several hours later and pitch dark when we stopped for food and sleep. We were nearly to the top of the mountain and the ruins. Had it been daylight, we probably could have pressed on rather than stopping for the night. But the dark made the mountain treacherous and difficult to navigate, for me at least. Aries seemed to have better night vision than I did. What a surprise.

  “Chicken or beef?”

  “What does the chef recommend?” I asked her wearily.

  “Honestly? Neither.”

  “Chicken it is.”

  “Fine. I’ll take the beef.” She smiled and sat cross-legged in the brush across from me.

  “Where do we sleep?” I questioned between bites of cold chicken. It actually was not all that bad for canned chicken.

  “Over there.” She pointed to a thick spot of brush. “Tuck yourself underneath it as far as you can. It should provide adequate cover. I’ll be on this ledge keeping first watch.”

  “You’re taking first watch? Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Get some sleep. I’ll wake you if anything happens, don’t worry.”

  I didn’t tell her that waking me if anything should happen was the least of my worries. Her not being able to wake me was what I was more concerned about. That didn’t exactly make for a decent night’s sleep, or a decent few hours’ sleep, I should say. I dozed on and off for about three and a half hours before I gave up and took Aries’s spot on the ledge.

  I heard the faint scratching sound close to three in the morning. I knew it was three in the morning because the faint shimmer of dawn was approaching; the sun rose earlier here in the mountains. I had been thinking about the Shadow Man—Lahuel—and how three in the morning was considered by some to be the “witching hour.” So the hairs on the back of my neck were already standing up by the time I heard the rustling to my left. Well, technically, I didn’t have hair on the back of my neck. I waxed every six weeks.

  The point was, I was already on edge, so I thought I had possibly imagined the scratching sounds.

  “Aries, wake up.” Better safe than sorry, I figured as I knelt down to rouse her from her spot under the brush.

  “What is it?” She was instantly alert.

  “I think I heard a noise. It came from—”

  “Right behind you!”

  “No, actually, it was a little to the left around the—”

  “No, behind you! Get down!” In one fluid motion, she shoved me aside and rolled out of the brush.

  “Stay back, Claire!”

  My eyes widened in an equal mix of shock and horror when I saw the bird. At least, I thought it was a bird. It was big, easily twice the size of an ostrich. Its coat was jeweled in a rich myriad of colors, and it was angry. Or hungry. I swallowed and scrambled for my gun as the thing lunged at Aries. The thin gray light of day was beginning to creep over the mountain and chase away the shadows; I could see a dark substance stained the bird’s claws and razor-like teeth. Blood. I fired the gun twice before the creature fell to the ground in a shiny, feathery heap. Aries had fired a weapon of her own into the thing—a lethal-looking bronze-tipped arrow.

  “What the hell was that?” I gasped, feeling unsteady on my feet.

  “Aragazzi.” She handed me my pack and slipped into her own.

  “Aragazzi,” I repeated dumbly.

  “It means, ‘guardian of the mountain.’”

  “It had blood on its claws and teeth…should we go check if anyone is hurt?”

  “No. We should get moving. Right now.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. They travel in packs. We have to get out of here now.”

  “Enough said. Let’s go.”