LITMIR.BIZ

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Tarrys nearly ran into him.

      “You can keep walking,” she told him, though the respite was welcome. “You can’t step on them.”

      “That’s not why I stopped. I swear I just saw a big black cat with three white horns. But it disappeared almost as quickly as it appeared.”

      Tarrys froze. Her blood went cold.

      “A black trimor. The most deadly creature in Esria.”

       Chapter 4

      Tarrys grabbed his arm. “Get behind me! A black trimor will kill you.”

      “Like hell.” Charlie pulled his knife as he stared at the sea of neon-green, watching as another chipmunk levitated into the air. For an instant … only an instant … a catlike creature about the size of a German shepherd, black with three white horns sticking out of his forehead, appeared to eat the little guy. Then both disappeared. “I’m really seeing him, right?”

      “Yes. They’re invisible until they snatch their prey … or attack. And there’s more than one.” She stepped away from him and lifted her bow. “I see four. Tell me if you see more.”

      Four? He felt as if his eyes were playing tricks on him, but yeah, now that she mentioned it, he was seeing things in his peripheral vision—a flash of black appearing for a second, then disappearing.

      Beside him, Tarrys began shooting, arrow after arrow. He thought about doing the same, but knew she had the best chance of striking one of those creatures.

      Her movements were swift and graceful, edged with a desperation that did little to reassure him as she spun, shooting in every direction. They were surrounded, the trimors working at the edges of the chipmunk rug. But the black trimors never stayed visible long enough for one of Tarrys’s arrows to hit its mark. Charlie wondered if he’d have been more effective with a gun, but doubted it. By the time he saw the creatures, they were gone.

      “Got one!” Tarrys crowed even as she continued to shoot. The one she’d shot fell, an arrow through one eye. A moment later, it disappeared.

      “Charlie, I’m nearly out of arrows. I’ll need your quiver.”

      He pulled it off his back and waited, handing it to her the moment she shot the last arrow from her own. With remarkable grace, she dropped the first and slung the second quiver onto her back, the arrows flying in an almost fluid continuity.

      A second cat went down with an arrow through the neck, followed by Tarrys’s chilling words.

      “I’m out of arrows.”

      “Back to back,” he ordered. Though what good it would do when they couldn’t see the creatures, he wasn’t sure. “Unless you have a better idea?”

      “A trimor paralyzes its larger prey, or its enemies, by goring them with its central horn and pumping them full of poison. Neither the goring nor the poison will automatically kill me. They will you. While I draw their attack—”

      “No way.”

      Tarrys continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

      “—you kill them with your knife. You’ll have to be fast.”

      “They could still kill you.” Her plan went against every instinct he possessed.

      She met his gaze, violet eyes flashing with steely determination. “If we’re not very quick and very lucky, they’re going to kill us both. I may heal fast, but even I can’t survive being eaten.”

      Dammit. His pride protested, but he took a deep breath and forced it aside. She might be small and female, but she was all warrior and this might be the only chance they got. They were going to do this together or not at all.

      “How will you draw their attack when you can’t see them?”

      “Noise. Stay close behind me.”

      As Tarrys lunged forward with a high-pitched scream, Charlie followed. Sure enough, a moment later a cat appeared, in full leap, his head down. Before Charlie could react, that long, razor-sharp center horn gored Tarrys clean through the chest.

      Charlie went berserk. Horror screamed through him as he flew at the cat, digging his knife deep in the creature’s throat, ripping through muscle and sinew. Warm blood spurted from the animal, mixing with the blood that bloomed on Tarrys’s gown. The cat fell, taking Tarrys with it, fully impaled on its horn.

      As he reached for her, the second cat appeared, leaping for him. His fury found an outlet and lent speed to his reflexes as he shoved his knife upward into the attacking cat’s jaw, lodging it deep in the animal’s skull. That deadly center horn caught on the fabric of his tunic, but didn’t break through.

      Close. Too close.

      The cat fell dead at his feet then disappeared a second later, leaving his knife lying, bloody, on the ground.

      He snatched the knife and crouched, watching for more cats. But the green carpet had passed them by and nothing else moved.

      Finally he whirled back to Tarrys and knelt beside her, turning her gently onto her back. The trimor gone, she now lay on a bed of dark pink flowers as if she’d been laid out for burial. A bloom of blood the size of his palm covered her chest. And her eyes, those vibrant, violet eyes, stared at nothing, unblinking, her expression frozen in a mask of pain. A mask of death.

      Charlie felt as if he’d been sucker punched, his heart skipping a beat, then racing faster than it had during the attack.

      Tarrys was dead.

      No. Not dead. Paralyzed. Wasn’t she? How in the hell was he supposed to know?

      Lifting her hand, he pressed it between his own. Her flesh was warm and damp, the perfection marred by a faint green allover mottling, but that hardly told him anything. She could still be dead.

      The thought went through him like a blade. She’d saved his life. If he’d come upon this scenario alone, it would be him lying on that bed of flowers. And he would be dead.

      “Can you hear me, eaglet?”

      No response, but he hadn’t really expected one. “I should have asked you how long the paralysis lasts. Or, hell, if there’s something I need to do to bring you out of it.” This place was filled with magic. What if the poison wasn’t a toxin so much as a curse? What if she was like Sleeping Beauty or something?

      Charlie stared at her, at those lips parted with pain. What did he have to lose? It wasn’t like kissing her was any kind of hardship.

      He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. Her scent filled his nostrils. Even totally unresponsive, she moved him, the feel of her damp mouth beneath his stirring something warm and exciting inside him.

      When she didn’t respond, he pulled back and studied her, searching her eyes.

      “It was worth a try,” he said with a shrug.

      Something flickered in her eyes.

      He squeezed her hand. “You’re aware, aren’t you? You know I just kissed you. Great. Now I really feel like an idiot. You know Sleeping Beauty, right? Probably not. Hell. She was awakened with a kiss. I thought it might work, though heaven knows I’m no Prince Charming.”

      He was only digging himself deeper. “Right. Anyway …” Releasing her hand, he stood and surveyed the surrounding area, looking for anything else that might come after them. Those trimors were going to give him nightmares.

      Comfortable that there was no imminent danger of the corporeal kind, he knelt once more beside Tarrys and took her hand again. Still warm, thank God.

      “Are you in pain?”

      As he stared into her eyes, he felt sure the answer was no. She wasn’t in pain. Her eyes, for all that they weren’t moving, were amazingly expressive.

      “Will

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