The Lost Elixir

Chapter Fifteen

Rayne guiltily swallowed down the rising disappointment that lingered in the pit of her stomach once Jarrah cleared his throat and stepped away from her. The familiar wall that usually guarded his face was temporarily back over his features like a glamor, and any sign of that previous moment was gone.

As it should be, she mentally chastised herself. Honestly, what was she thinking in the first place? Did she really . . . Was she really going to . . .

Ugh! No, she wasn't. She wasn't a forest wrecker by any means and would never kiss someone's future husband. No matter how intelligent and gorgeous and attentive and—and—

Rayne really needed to stop. She needed a distraction and fast.

And once she heard the distant screams from across the way, she knew she found it. Great!

Jarrah and her barely looked at each other when they rushed to where the sound had come from. Rayne pressed her fingers over the tree trunk and leaned down, overlooking a road with a clear shot of a scene that had her blood boiling.

Three cloaked beings surrounded a group of shaking garden nymphs. Rayne couldn't hear what the vampires were saying exactly, but by the way their backs curved and the nymphs shrank, they were clearly taunting them in some way.

Jarrah waved a hand over the scene in front of them and created a barrier that would allow them to speak without notice. It was a quick little trick that wouldn't last long from what she knew of his magic, but would last long enough to figure out what the hell was going on.

Jarrah leaned forward and studied them briefly. "Vampires," he concluded, his voice heavy with distaste.

Rayne agreed with that observation. If the cloaks didn't sell it, then the posture certainly did. "Looks like they were patrolling the roads," she whispered, looking over at him. She didn't know why she was whispering with the glamor in front of their faces, but for some reason, it felt like the thing to do. Sort of like blowing on ice cream after eating hot soup.

Jarrah's eyebrows furrowed. "Hmm. Well, we can't just leave those girls down there with them."

"I agree . . . which is why I have a plan."

He sharply cut his eyes at her, suspicious. "What plan?"

Rayne couldn't reel in her grin if she tried. She fixed her grip on Jarrah's bow and watched his eyes swivel down to the bent hickory. "How do you feel about some target practice, coach?" she chirped.

"I don't know how I feel about you calling it target practice specifically," he admitted, warily. "But that seems like our best option right now. So, let's do it."

"If it makes you feel any better, I wasn't going to kill—what are you doing?"

He sent her a wry look, his fingers hovering over the sharp, crescent-shaped arrowheads. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

She swallowed back the eyeroll that was threatening to overtake her eyes. "Obviously, I wouldn't be asking if I knew. Why are you enchanting the arrows?"

"Ah. So, you do know what I'm doing."

"Jarrah, if you don't—"

"I'm enchanting the arrows to slow them down once you hit them. They'll kill those nymphs if they think their people are the ones behind your er—target practice."

She cocked her head to the side. "Huh. What will it do to them?"

"Nothing too terrible. It'll just bring them enough pain to temporarily knock them out. Not to mention these arrows will give them one hell of a fight when they pull them out of their body," he added, eyeing the crescent curve that was made to cause damage on the way out of one's body. One couldn't just pull an arrow like that straight out of their body without nagging on tissue or something more vital. "Flesh bits and all."