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Jarrod floated at the rear-guard of his human court, who moved like lovely ghosts through the water. They were infinitely more practical than any ghost could ever be. Companions. Weapons. A net drawing in to tighten like his fingers around the throat of Bannimor Village. Hundreds of lives would be his to drain to the marrow, the human shells cast adrift on the tides. Except those more entertaining attributes who would join his ranks.
Thanks to Hunter, he and his ethereal army were no longer hidden, and as Morgan had proved, no longer Forgotten. They must keep out of sight, advancing along the bottom of the sea, until they were virtually upon their prey.
It was a pity Thea would miss this. She deserved her banishment; he had no regrets on that score. Not to mention he’d relished reminding her of her place. But it was a pity to waste such a chance as this to demonstrate his power to her, she was so enthusiastic in her admiration. But for once, she had done as she was ordered. She had vanished so completely, she would no doubt only hear of these exploits when he reminisced. If, that is, he ever forgave her and allowed her back into the fold.
He cast his eye along the remaining numbers of his clan, shadowing the advancing line of humanity just as he did. So diminished. Vicious hatred surged through him, cementing his will. Hunter’s witch Skye would be the first to join his court, and she would never leave his side. And Morgan... His concentration wavered, as did the advancing line. There was time enough to decide when the dust had settled and the waters were calm. He pushed her face, her name aside, and his court moved forward once more.
His thoughts moved to the aftermath. They would have to leave the shallower waters of the Bay, perhaps even the walls of Lithus, until the nine-day wonder that the empty village and tide of corpses would no doubt be, had played out. Small price to pay. Time was all he had, once Skye and Hunter returned to him.
