Read an Except from
Book 6:
“Do you think we should try adding some kind of prayer or something?”
Itta wondered aloud.
“We’re not worshippers,” Patrick responded with a shrug.
“Maybe not, but we are trying to ask for a favor. It couldn’t hurt.”
“At the beginning of the month, we brought them one sacrifice a day
over three days,” he said. “Today we’re trying three all at once.”
“So you’d prefer to add only one new thing at a time until we figure
out what works?”
He nodded.
“That’s fine,” Itta said with a smile. “It will give me time to do some
research on prayers, just in case.”
“I hope that won’t be necessary, I’d like to see the Furies respond to
our offering.”
“As would I.”
They both watched from the side of the ruins as several Thornton Elves
arranged the three mind-controlled Humans so they remained on their knees. The
setting sun cast dark shadows against the grey stone, but the ruins remained
adequately lit for their purposes.
One of the Elves approached Patrick and said, “They’re ready, Master.”
When his jaw tightened, Itta asked softly, “Would you like me to do it
this time, Patrick?”
He shook his head. “No, my dear. I appreciate your offer, but I will
handle this unpleasantness.”
Patrick strode purposely toward the Humans, and withdrew a dagger from
his inner jacket pocket. Without hesitation, he ran it across the exposed
throat of one Human, then stepped to the side and repeated the procedure twice
more.
He handed the bloodied blade off to one of the Thornton Elves, and
returned to his previous position beside Itta.
Then they waited.
One Human bled out and tipped forward, dead, their mind no longer
functioning to follow the mental commands. In her excitement, Itta reached out
to grip Patrick’s hand and felt him squeeze back. The second fell, and finally
the third.
All the Elves went silent in the ruins, and their eyes scanned the area
in hopes that one of the Furies would arrive.
Minutes passed, the shadows bent with the onset of evening, and Patrick
dropped her hand to cross his arms behind his back instead, his face set with
irritation.
Itta shook her head and sighed, then asked, “Do you think it could be the
quality of the offerings?”
“You mean they don’t meet their requirements for punishment? That
they’re too good?”
“Or because they’re Human?”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps. We may need to be willing to give
more next time.”
“We have time to think on it and prepare. I’ll research in the meantime
and see if I can uncover anything else that might help.”
Patrick nodded and held out his arm, which she took automatically. “We
knew this might not be easy. I only hope that we can reach them before it’s too
late to save your family.”
“We will,” she said confidently, ignoring the Elves cleaning up behind
them as she walked with him toward the cars. “And soon the Furies will punish
Priscilla and Raymond, for both our sakes.”
“Our complaint is valid, so I have to believe that they will judge them
in our favor,” he said.
“I may have an idea that would allow us to succeed even if we cannot
reach the Furies, but it will take some time and planning.”
“I’m not willing to put my trust in another God,” Patrick said, his tone
one that brooked no argument.
Itta shook her head. “I wasn’t going to suggest it. But not that long
ago, Priscilla made a lot of enemies for the Forester House.”
They reached the vehicle and he paused, furrowing his brow. “Remind
me.”
“The survivors of the Morales incident.”
“Ahhh. But what you're suggesting could put your own family at risk.”
“Then we’ll just have to be very careful,” she said firmly.
He held her hand as she climbed into the vehicle, then said, “I’ll give
you the number of someone who can help.”
