Page 12 of Surviving Hallow Hill
Five
My ear drumsnearly shatter at the sound. Whatever discomfort I may feel, it’s worse for Styx. He whimpers and drags his massive wolf head across the ground, howling and scratching at his ears with his paws.
I feel his pain through our bond, and my rage soars to new heights.
How dare they? How fucking dare they harm what is mine!
I’m running, pushing myself between them and him, my sword slicing across three different bodies, silencing their shrieks of death.
They stumble back, staring down at their oozing blood and then back up at me, baring their sharp teeth.
“You treacherous bitch!” one of them snaps.
I place myself in front of Styx, holding my sword up. Theywill notharm him. I never should have let them get that far.
“He’s the enemy!” another banshee hisses.
“Kill him before he kills us.” Her eyes shine as green as her wild hair.
Just the thought has me seeing red and calling forth my Lady. Because of those threats alone, they will die today, my sword will taste their souls, and my Lady’s river will be ripe to the brim.
“Touch one hair on his body, and I will fuckingendyou.” Adrenaline shakes through me so hard, it’s impossible to keep my voice steady.
Dom steps up, his bulging arms crossed against his chest and a disdainful look on his face. “He’s the enemy, witch.”
“He is not.”
Sia weaves his way around them on silent feet until he stands next to me. A united front to protect what’s ours. Our pack. Our family.
The concept is foreign to me, and yet it feels right as I think the words.
They are my family, and I will do whatever it takes to keep them safe. Even if I have to kill my own teammates. I know that truth shines in my eyes, because Dom seems to falter for a single telling moment. But as quickly as the indecision appears on his face, it’s gone, replaced with a hardened expression.
“Fine,” he decides. “Protect the enemy and become a liability.” He stares at the banshees. “Kill them all.”
The banshees attack. It’s three against three while Dom stands back and watches with his arms crossed against his chest.
One of the banshees lunges for me, a vengeance in her eyes, claws extended. I swing my sword in an upwards arc, but she dodges. We weave around each other, blade striking against the tips of claws. Dodge. Clash. Dodge. Clash. It’s a dance that’s raw and primal, and the dark part of me, the part that loves violence and death, sings a song. Finally, a worthy opponent.
I feel my Holy Lady of Death close. Her presence grounds me, fuels me to move faster, hit harder. I push the banshee back. Out of my peripheral, I see Sia fighting one. Without a weapon, but with dark Sekar magic swirling around him like smoke.
I push the banshee away again and whirl, looking for Styx. He’s bowed low on the ground, snarling as the third banshee makes her way towards him. Every instinct in my body demands I protect. I start to run to him, but in my worry for Styx, I make a fatal mistake.
I turn my back on my enemy.
Claws rake through the violet uniform I wear, tearing the material and drawing blood. I scream, but I don’t give myself time to feel the pain. I turn, my blade slicing clean through the hands that dared wound me. Blood explodes, and the most horrifying, deadly shriek erupts from her mouth. Face contorted in pain, she drops to her knees, waving her handless arms around.
The shrill sound has Styx whining and scraping at his ears again. It’s a high frequency that affects him the most. And it renders him helpless as the banshee cackles towards him. Like she can taste his death on her tongue already.
“Styx!”
Before she can reach him, a figure drops from the sky in a crouch. He stands, and I’m met with gray-black muscle upon muscle, smooth like stone. Gargoyle-like features glare down at the banshee. A black snout is smooshed on the front of his face, ears pulled back and elongated, razor-sharp fangs bared and hissing. Dark wings span across a broad back like a curtain of protection between Styx and the banshee.
I’ve only caught sight of this form once, in single flashing glimpses in a small room. I didn’t realize how magnificent he is until now, as I catch Rue’s wrath in full force.
A massive clawed hand with black-tipped nails flashes out and envelops the banshee’s face, muffling her screams. His muscular arm bulges as he lifts her in the air. Her feet swing wildly, touching empty air. She takes a muffled breath to prepare for another scream, but she doesn’t get the sound out.
Because in a single, violent move, Rue crushes her head in his paw-like fist.
