Chapter Thirty-Eight
Thinking becomes impossible, and I stop, swaying on my feet.
The terrible noise reminds me of when Fluffster mentally shouted at Harper, the succubus who tried to kill me and Felix. Like that time, this sounds like death metal played backward and in slow motion—just a zillion times more intense.
I feel insignificant. Like an amoeba facing an angry elephant.
Fighting the desire to fall down and curl into a little ball, I ball my fists instead and take a step.
“I can’t do this.” Itzel’s voice doesn’t sound like her own. “I’m done. You go. Save yourselves.”
Wow. The mental assault is affecting a gnome—beings immune from vampire glamour and things like that. What chance do our unprotected minds have?
“Shut up,” Felix grits out, grabbing Itzel’s arm. “Just think of b
