Twenty three
One blink, and William dissolves into the dark at my side, his shape unraveling into smoke that melts into the hedge. My breath seizes.
The next instant, he reappears outside the wards, on the far side of the wall.
A figure presses against the barrier — a scout. Its body is half-shadow, half-beast, limbs too long, face smeared into a suggestion of fangs and empty sockets. It snarls, claws raking against the shimmer of the wards, making them ripple like disturbed water.
William meets it head-on. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t falter. One moment he’s shadow, the next he’s form again, striking with violence that makes me stumble back. His hand spears into the thing’s chest. Shadows burst like smoke. When he pulls free, the creature crumples into dust and vanishes into the groun
