The Onyx Vial (Shadows of The Nine Book 1) by Alexis Lampley Page A

steps.
    “Pabl!” She cried, tearing her satchel from the chair and yanking the viewing panel off the portal book.
    The men exploded into the office — the very men she’d seen in Rockwood Pass. And in the lead was a man so thick with muscle he filled the entire width of the doorway. Gruon. The man she'd pawed the tin of Scales off of in the rain.
    You think you’re invincible. Her mother’s words rang in her ears as she slipped the satchel over her head, the strap tight across her chest. But the moment they get their hands on you, you’ll learn how fragile you really are.
    She blanched. She couldn’t let them touch her. Any fate was preferable to the one charging toward her.
    “Run, Pabl!” She screamed, forcing the words around the knot of fear in her throat as she hurled the viewing panel at the Huntsmen. It hit one of them in the nose with a crack of glass and the crunch of bone. He yowled.
    She turned her back on them, her muscles tensed. Don’t think about it. Do it, or die .
    With the portal book exposed, its pages flipped, as if blown by a fierce wind, to a page adorned with intricate illustrations. She slammed her hand into it and turned her head as her fingers disappeared through the liquid surface.
    A blazing, blood red light flooded the small room, bathing the white-swathed men in overbearing brightness.
    But they were undeterred. Gruon latched his meaty hand under her shoulder and squeezed. She yelped, jerked her arm, but he only squeezed tighter. His other hand groped at the air just shy of the book. If he touched the pages, he was coming with her.
    She twisted around and bit his fingers. The salty taste of sweat soured her tongue and she gagged. But she dug her teeth harder into his thick skin. He howled, releasing her arm.
    She unclamped her jaw, spitting the taste out as the book sucked her in to her shoulder. Her head was so close to the page, the red light overwhelmed her vision. But she could feel the Huntsman’s rough hands grip her ankles.
    The opposing forces of the book and her attacker were tearing her in two. She screamed, but it was cut off with a brutal jerk.
    Gruon had help. They were pulling her back out.
    The glow was fire against her eyes, but she forced them open. She had to see what they were doing. Gruon had her ankles. Another, skinny and snakelike, had his arms around her left thigh. The one she’d hit with the viewer tugged blindly at Gruon’s back, his face bloody and swelling fast.
    For a fleeting moment she marveled at the force of the book.
    Then she kicked and twisted her legs violently, attempting to force the Huntsmen off. It didn’t work. The Snake's strong, skeletal fingers slid higher, making her wild movements more futile.
    Panic flashed and burned through her veins. She flailed desperately, twisting into a barrel roll. But Gruon held her feet in place. Her legs crossed as she turned, inadvertently trapping the Snake's hand between her thighs. His fingers wiggled as he tried to free himself. She jerked her knees toward her chest, wrenching her right ankle free.
    The book sucked her through to her waist.
    Gruon’s grip on her left ankle strengthened, dragging her back. She kicked at him with her free leg, but missed. The Snake's fingers slid higher up her thigh. She gasped, her scream lodged in her throat. Stinging tears turned the light to glittering red as they filled her eyes. Tremors raced through her body.
    She swung her leg again as hard as she could.
    This time, her foot made contact with something. A skull?
    Snake’s hands slid off her.
    She wrenched her knee up. Gruon’s grip slackened. She bucked and kicked and flailed. Her foot came free.
    The loss of opposing force was sudden and violent, dragging her into the black abyss of the page, the tearing sensation replaced by one of compression. The book slapped shut.
    Then she hit the ground, flat on her back. Air expelled from her lungs.
    Her satchel slammed down beside her head. Boiling heat washed over