Page 130 of Blood So Brutal

Chaos erupted in the valley.

Violence was not new for me. I did not flinch away from the metal of a sharpened sword. I did not cower from the brute force of warriors, from the strong powers of angels.

I, too, grew up to fight. I, too, had a sharp sword.

And thanks to my father, I, too, had sharp teeth.

My vision blurred as I moved, maneuvering myself with little to no thought as I sliced down every opponent who charged us. My instincts took over with every slice of my weapon, with every body pummeled by my fist.

The army of fighters from The Golden City consisted of fae and angels both. They were strong, yes, but we were angry.

I kicked a body off my sword just before a large male charged from my right. Brutal hatred covered his features, and he ran at me sloppily, sword raised and body exposed.

My sword sliced through his flesh like butter.

Again and again, I cut down our enemies.

Again and again, they kept coming.

It wasn’t until I felt the first wave of magic that I paused, stepped back. This first wave, this was the distraction. This was to draw us out.

The powerful angels would be next, and they would not be fighting with mere weapons and fists.

They would be fighting with blood. With magic. With the air itself.

A wave of fire erupted on my right and split our line of defense in two. Heat followed immediately, adding to the already-thick air.

But the fighting did not stop. Our side stood strong, a wall against our attackers.

The hair on the back of my neck, though, rose.

I used my free hand to block an attack from my left side while I stood, waiting. Another vampyre sliced down my opponent for me while I turned my head toward the sky.

Wings.

Swooping straight down for us.

I had only seconds to brace myself before the sheer power of their violence rained upon us. I immediately got to work, aiming for the angels first.

They were hard to kill, I knew that more than anyone. While fae could be killed by any mortal wound, angels healed too quickly. They would need to be wounded fatally with no chance of healing themselves.

But that was easier said than done.

Too many of us were falling. Too many vampyres couldn’t take on the force of the angels.

Hells.

For the first time since the fighting began, panic whispered into my senses, but I shook my head and kept fighting. I kept pushing forward, kept aiming for the powerful ones. A few of our attackers started to slip past our line of defense, but I couldn’t turn back, couldn’t retreat. We had to hold our line steady; it would be the only damn way to protect the kingdom.

It wasn’t until I sawhimthat my sword stopped swinging, my muscles stopped fighting.

No, it wasn’t possible. It wasn’t?—

“Hello, son.” My father—my father who should have been dead—greeted me. Blood smeared on his face. He carried nosword. He didn’t need to. When he took a step toward me, my knees shook. “Surprised to see me?”

Chapter 50

Huntyr

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