Chapter 239

Jacob's Perspective The stench of the sewer—a mix of decay and fresh blood—clung to the back of my throat like a piece of rotting meat. Celena and I moved in a low crouch, feeling our way along the damp, slime-covered walls of the pipe. From deeper within came the sounds of a struggle: impacts, scraping, and a shrill, inhuman shriek that made the hackles on my wolf-spirit rise. The beam from my flashlight cut through the darkness, illuminating streaks of dark, viscous fluid slowly dripping down the curved walls. "Slow," I breathed, pulling Celena back, my own throat tight. "Around the bend." We pressed ourselves against the cold concrete at the turn, edging just enough to see. The flashlight beam swept across the scene, and my stomach clenched hard. We'd found it. Or rather, we'd found the aftermath. It was worse than we'd imagined. The first thing that hit was the smell—a nauseating cocktail of spent witchcraft, thick with the reek