by Paige Orr
I spin on my heel, managing to catch my next attacker in the solar plexus with the heel of my boot. Priscilla manages to narrowly avoid a blow coming straight for my temple, while simultaneously taking out another attacker.
I have to give my ghostly helper props. She has some bad ass moves. I’m not exactly a slouch myself when it comes to fighting, what with the shooting lessons and the multiple martial arts I studied after mom’s death. I wanted to be able to protect myself against anything, and I put my blood, sweat and tears into being the best fighter I could be.
Priscilla looks like she belongs to the period of time where women were expected to put up and shut up, not defend themselves like a pro. I’m lucky I do have the sort of training that I do, because if I didn’t I would be one sore fucker tomorrow. I know that I didn’t exactly have time to stretch my muscles out; you know, with a whole ritual going on, but a less experienced body wouldn’t be able to keep up with how she is using it.
She spins me around in the most graceful move I’ve ever seen, and in the process she throws multiple powerful bursts of magic out, hitting each of her targets perfectly over the heart. I don’t think they are dead, but they sure as hell won’t be jumping back into the fight any time soon. We've only taken out a third of the group, but I’m still majorly impressed.
Our luck seems to finally be running out though, as we just avoid a knife, receiving a minor cut on the cheek. In the process of dodging the blade though, another cult member appears out of nowhere, fist connecting with my jaw and causing me to see stars. As I fall down to one knee, three of the cult members think it’s the perfect opportunity to keep me down, but in a move that defies gravity, my body moves at an incomprehensible speed knocking them all down before I land perfectly on my feet.
I can feel the fatigue of the fight getting to me, and I know that we don’t have long to get this shit done, but it’s at exactly that moment that I hear a commotion further up the tunnel. Completely forgetting about the fight, I turn around, finding the guys and Annika working in tandem to bring down any fleeing cult members.
My joy at finally having some back up doesn’t last long though, as one of the fly fuckers manages to get in a kidney blow. I swing my elbow up, feeling the satisfying crunch as their nose breaks. What I don’t enjoy though is the squeal that the little bitch lets out in my ear.
I turn around before the attacker can come at me again and find the burliest cult member standing in front of me. Is this guy for real, I’ve had my nose broken a few times in training, and it does not call for that kind of response. This guy looks like he eats bull balls for breakfast with the testosterone oozing from him, and yet he’s acting like a little girl as soon as someone hits him back.
Something tells me that he’s one of those assholes that like to throw their weight around with women, but as soon as they defend themselves he’s like a lost little boy. Hopefully, I can do the female population, or male whichever is his preference, a fucking favour by breaking his fucking hands too.
Priscilla must sense my anger at this particular cult member, and she gives me back some control of my body. I’m quick to regain my equilibrium with the abrupt shift before charging the bear of a man, snatching a knife from one of the cult members on my way past, and performing a double-leg takedown.
Once I have him down on the floor, I move myself into position for an armbar, and once I have the move locked in, I raise the knife into the air, before bringing it down into his side. I feel the knife hitting bone as it makes its way through his flesh, before reaching the hilt.
From the gurgling that comes from the man shortly after I release the knife, I know that I’ve punctured a lung and finally release my hold, getting back to my feet. Taking a quick look around, I can see that with the other's help, we are making quick work of the group. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Marcus Sullivan trying to sneak away from the carnage caused by his greed, and I know that I can’t let him walk free.
I begin to shove my way through the remaining cult members, eyes glued to Mr. Sullivan, refusing to lose sight of him. If he gets away, then he’ll be able to rebuild the cult, and that’s the last thing any of us want. I won’t lie and say that my guilt in helping him obtain the necklace isn’t giving me an extra push.
I hate knowing that I’ve played an integral part in his plans. I believed his little sob story about it being his mother's dying wish, instead of listening to my gut which was telling me he wasn’t a good person. I need to stop letting myself be blinded when it comes to taking on cases that are supposed to do with parent's wishes.
Two cult members jump in front of me, blocking my path to their leader. In one's hand is a nasty looking blade, and the other must have picked up the steel pipe in his hand during the fight. I can still feel Priscilla’s presence inside me, but it's not like I can rely on her help forever.
I try to recall the feeling of the magic building inside me, but just as it begins to flicker to life, the goon with the pipe leaps for me. I dive out of the way, just able to hold on to my concentration as I spin on my heel, catching the bastard in the jaw with my opposite foot.
The blow barely stuns him, but it does give me just enough time to call up enough magic in my hands to hopefully do some damage. He regains his composure, coming at me again, and this time I move inside his guard, bringing one of my hands up to connect with his chest. His eyes grow wide as my magic begins to course through him, and his whole body shudders before dropping to the ground.
The second member looks more hesitant after watching me drop his buddy, but I can tell by the determination in his eyes that it won’t be enough to make him back down. I quickly look behind him to check how far Marcus has got, and when I see him approaching a small side tunnel, I know I don’t have long before he makes it safely out of here.
That’s all the time I have to spare though, as my attacker uses my distraction to leap at me, brandishing his knife. I use his own body's momentum to throw him over my back, satisfied with the dull thud as his body hits the floor.
Unfortunately, he’s still conscious, which means he’s still a threat that can stop me, so I straddle his chest, and begin to land elbows on his face. Blood begins to pour from his nose and lip as each blow connects, but he obviously doesn’t want to go down without a fight.
That's when I feel the dull blow to my thigh, I refuse to take my eyes off of him to check myself though. The blow wasn’t exactly painful, so I’m sure it will be fine to check it out once we have finished dealing with everyone. I put my whole weight behind my next attack, and finally the body beneath me goes limp and unmoving.
I stumble to my feet, falling against the wall beside me, and it’s then that I notice the knife protruding from my thigh. That fucker stabbed me! I thought that being stabbed would be a lot more painful, but until I actually saw the knife sticking out of my skin, I didn’t feel a thing.
I can’t let this stop me from getting to Marcus though, so I grit my teeth, trying to ignore the throbbing pain now emanating from the wound, and begin to hobble my way towards the tunnel where I last saw him. Trying to move quickly is sorer than I thought, but I blank my mind, pushing through the pain and put a burst of speed on.
The cocky bastard obviously expected his lackeys to be able to stop me, and he must have been confident that I was the only one who saw him making his escape. Because not far down the tunnel, I find him leisurely strolling away. If he thinks that it was going to be that easy to stop me, then he has another thing coming!
Chapter Thirty-Two
Morpheus
I lose sight of Melissa as the cult members begin to converge on us. Like rats crawling from the sewers, they begin to appear almost out of nowhere. We never exactly got the chance to count how many members were down here, but as they begin to show themselves from the crevices they were hidden in, I can see at least thirty.
After everything we found out about the ritual, that doesn’t really make sense though. The ritual called for a sacrifice f
rom each person, and if Zaph and Melissa took out ten of the fuckers in the woods, and there are at least ten bodies already on the floor, then forty Fae is nowhere near enough.
When my eyes flick towards the center of the room to do a quick head count, I find more than forty Fae. There haven't been any more disappearances reported to either Cail or Zaph, and some of the captives don’t look Seelie or Unseelie, which can only mean that they belong to the lower castes.
If these bastards were looking for power though, then that just doesn’t add up. As I continue to fight my way through the crowd though, I actually take in each of the members who are present for the ritual. What I see causes surprise, since there are people here who look like at best they've only just turned eighteen.
I hate to have to kill someone so young, but it’s not like we can just let them get away with this. The weaker Fae makes a lot more sense though. The older cult members obviously didn’t trust the younger ones with the same level of power as them. Either way, it makes our task more difficult.
Already I can see the captives trying to release their bindings as some of the cult members begin to stalk towards them, ignoring the fighting going on behind them. Luckily enough, I’m not the only one who notices what the sneaky bastards are up to, as the surrounding shadows begin to converge on them.
You would think that the cult would have done their homework and decided to perform the ritual somewhere that isn’t so perfect for the Unseelie Prince. Hell, if there weren’t so many lives at risk, then Zaph could have quite easily taken them all down on his own with the amount of shadows around us. I don’t think I’ve ever been so jealous of his shadow manipulation before.
It’s not that my own magic isn’t useful, but my fire magic could be a hindrance against the other's magic. It’s just a basic understanding of the elements. Fire and earth don’t exactly work together, nor does fire and water, and even with all the training I’ve done with Zaph and his wind, he does really prefer to use his shadows.
My Skinwalker capabilities aren’t much use in this type of fight either. I’m so much better at infiltration and espionage, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t have a few tricks up my sleeves. Just because I find it easier to shift into another humanoid shape, doesn’t mean I can’t be more creative with it.
There are many humanoid figures that I could shift into that would have the cult members shifting themselves, but shifting into something large can be very taxing, so I need to make sure that I’m making the right choice. What comes to mind has a sickening grin crossing my face.
With how promiscuous the Fae can be, there are some extremely dangerous creatures that have been born into our world. Just like the creature I plan to use. Not all of Fae kind worship the Mother Goddess Danu, some chose to worship the Queen of Spiders, the Drow Goddess Lolth. Those that do, and perform rituals to show their devotion to her, have given birth to some of the most fearful creatures of our kind.
This includes the Draegloth, which is a mix between a Drow and a Glebrezu demon. The Draegloth can easily reach eight feet in height, and have four arms, two of which are smaller and more humanoid for spellwork. The other two upper arms are basically just razor sharp claws that can cut through the strongest of metals.
Their lupine-like snout and black skin covered in white tufts of hair, all matched together with their powerful jagged teeth, make for one scary motherfucker. Which is exactly what I need.
Most of your average shapeshifters start off with a painful transition between their natural form and their animal, but Skinwalkers don’t receive the same kindness. Every time we shift, n matter how much we practice, it still hurts like a bitch. Thankfully, after five hundred and thirty-two years of practice, I’m able to block out the pain completely, which makes the transition much smoother.
The cult members who had begun to approach me, look more hesitant at the expression on my face, and I use their hesitation to begin the transformation. Their eyes grow wide as my body changes shape, growing much taller than them. When the upper arms begin to grow from my shoulder blades, like some twisted version of wings, I can see the disgust clearly written on their faces.
That’s fine by me though, and as I feel my jaw beginning to extend along with my teeth, I give them a mischievous wink. The stench of their fear is strong to new senses, which causes me to release a predatory growl. The cult members stumble backwards away from me, and the acrid smell of piss reaches me.
Seriously, these assholes are big and bad enough to abduct so many of our people that they were quite happily going to kill, but being faced by a true beast has them reverting to the pathetic bag of bones that they are. This is why I hate so many humans! They think that targeting the weak makes them strong, when really it just makes them bullies.
I crack my neck from side to side, to release the tension caused by my shift, before turning my eyes back to the cult members. As much as I should enjoy what I’m about to do, it's too fun not to. The thing about a skinwalker shifting into someone or something, is that we can copy the magic of whoever we are shifted to and the Draegloth is resistant to most attacks. Not only that, but they have control of their own innate magic, which is nothing like most Fae.
I stalk my way towards my prey, ripping my talons into unsuspecting victims as I make my way through the crowd which has already dwindled. The cult members finally back themselves into a wall, and knowing that they have nowhere left to run to, they begin to beg for their lives.
This only infuriates me more though. I wonder just how many times the Fae huddled together in fear, begged to be returned to their family. I’m sure these bastards took great pleasure in telling them exactly how they were going to take their lives in this ritual. I can see children and a pregnant woman in that group for fuck's sake.
I lean forwards, getting into their faces, and I let out the loudest roar possible. I watch satisfied as their faces turn completely white and they slowly slide down the wall. Something hits my back while I’m concentrating on these dipshits, but I ignore it, not wanting to take my eye off them for even a second.
I’m probably enjoying making a bunch of grown men cry a little too much, but it so fucking satisfying after everything that they’ve participated in. I don’t want to leave the others dealing with the rest of them on their own though, it's not that I don’t think they can handle themselves, because they can. I still want to make it a slow and painful death for these scumbags.
Reaching my claws forwards, I carefully slice across each of their stomachs and cauterising the edges with my fire so they don’t bleed out too soon, before reaching in for their guts. You wouldn’t think that someone can live through their intestines being taken from their bodies, but if done right it can take them a while to die, and the whole thing will be the most excruciating thing they ever experience.
I watch them weakly, trying to reach for their own insides, curious at what they think they can do to save themselves. Either way, they aren’t my concern anymore, they will never be able to survive this. I turn my back on them, showing them how little of a threat they pose to me, and study the bloodbath in front of me, shifting as I do.
There are only three cult members still standing, and that’s only because Cail and Zaph are playing with them. At the edge of the room watching with fascination stand Annika, the young Witch bound at her feet. Elias is making his way towards me, but the one person I can’t find is Melissa. Where the fuck has she got to now?
Chapter Thirty-Three
Melissa
“Well, color me surprised Marcus, you’re even more of a fucking coward than I first thought.”
I watch satisfied as he spins round wildly, holding his hands up and scanning the tunnel desperately. You would think that he would understand just how truly fucked he is, but the dumb bastards straightens his shoulders, putting a haughty look on his face. Here comes the monologue to waste time, thinking his goons will get to him in time to help him escape his fate.
If the sounds that were co
ming from the tavern were anything to go by though, there probably isn’t enough left of his goons for them to identify them with, if they’re ever found that is. It's not like I condone murder, but these fuckers nearly killed me multiple times, and they planned on killing children and a pregnant woman. That shit is fucking sick.
They’re more animal than human with their behaviour, so I don’t see the harm in putting them all down like the rabid animals they are. My morals have always been in the grey area, especially with how my mother's murderer was never caught.what’s so wrong with taking justice into your own hands, anyway.
The police are mostly corrupt; they don’t really care about protecting anyone but themselves. Sure, it's not all of them, but it's far too many to even make sense. So if they aren’t going to do their job in protecting and serving civilians, it falls into the hands of people who have the balls to do the right thing.
Is this punishment cruel? Maybe. Does that change the fact that the only way to stop people as toxic as this is to wipe them from the face of this earth. If you removed all the horrible people from humanity, then maybe it could start again, and do things right this time.
“Melissa, how lovely it is to see you again, but you really should have escaped when you had the chance.”
“Let me guess, there are too many of you and none of us will make it out alive! You really are fucking stupid.”
I laugh at him when he reaches into the back of his cloak, pulling a knife out and brandishing it at me. Definitely fucking stupid! Even with the knife wound and multiple growing bruises, I could still drop his ass without breaking a sweat. I don’t know if he thought that because he was going to be performing this ritual and gaining all that power, that he didn’t need to make sure he could defend himself, but it's quite obvious he has no clue what he’s doing.
