Page 230 of Bitten & Burned
And then there was me. One enchanted dagger hung at my hip, the hilt warm against my palm as I brushed my fingers over it in reassurance. The slight glow of the blade was hidden by the witchsteel sheath my father had made for me. It also protected me from the burn. The other was tucked under my skirt on the other side, hidden beneath the fabric. Just in case I lost the first one. Hopefully, I wouldn’t have to use it. Steel was a poor substitute for magic or fangs, but it was mine, and I was ready for this.
Cassian glanced around one last time, his sharp gaze cutting through the shifting shadows, focusing on me for a singular heavy moment before nodding once.
Then, without another word, he and Dmitri broke from cover, sprinting across the open lawn from the safety of the treeline. Their boots struck the earth in a rhythm meant for speed, not stealth. They offered an intentional challenge. One that we hoped would be difficult to ignore.
Movement stirred in the land before us. I saw the Ashbornes begin to fully emerge from their hiding places, shapes separating from the jagged silhouettes of hedges and crumbling stone. Some nocked arrows with jerky precision, while others drew daggers or swords that caught the light.
We waited for Anton’s count. His eyes were locked on Dmitriand Cassian as they pulled the majority of the enemy out into the open.
Quil was already gone. I’d already lost sight of him, a shadow swallowed by the deeper dark. My heart climbed into my throat, pounding so hard it felt like it might crack my ribs, the first wave of rage and adrenaline already beginning to ebb before the true fight had even started.
Finally, something shifted. Anton gave a sharp nod, and he launched forward, vanishing into the dark.
Vael and I remained behind, but still in motion, our path arcing along the treeline toward the main road.
We were the bait. Once they spotted us out in the open, their ranks would split, leaving Quil and Anton freer to strike from the edges.
“Are you alright, Witchling?” Vael asked, his voice rumbled enough to be felt more than heard.
“No,” I replied honestly, my grip tightening on the hilt at my side. “I want this over.”
He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Then we’d best be off.”
As we began walking up the darkened driveway, the lanterns lining the path flared to life, one at a time, in perfect sequence, as though unseen hands were lighting them just ahead of us.
Each glow spilled across the gravel in a widening pool before being swallowed by the black again. A simple parlor trick that was meant to intimidate and to make us feel watched. As if Silas knew the exact moment our boots touched his land.
But I recognized it for what it was: an old, stagnated spell set to react to movement. My father had used something similar at our home, though his had burned with a warmer light.
We kept walking, the air thickening with every step, and, as each lantern flickered to life beside us, Vael moved closer, his coat brushing against my arm.
I could hear them now, out there beyond the halo of light from the enchanted lanterns. But then, it was nothing; thesurrounding dark made into an impenetrable wall. Filled with snarling, wet sounds.
Heavy breathing seemed to vibrate through the ground. Shambling footsteps crunched twigs, flattening grass.
I drew in a slow breath, forcing it steady as we moved forward, my spine rigid with the effort of not showing my fear. Each heartbeat felt audible, and blood rushed in my ears.
It all happened at once. A noise too close to us. I heard it and spun, my skirts and coat whipping with the motion, coming face to face with one of those… inbred monsters.
This one was nothing like the gangling, half-starved specimens that I’d encountered at Halemont. This one was big. Nearly as big as Dmitri.
Fuck.
My teeth clacked together with the jolt of adrenaline as I reached for my dagger. The blade came up in a single motion, my grip steady as I swiped. Hot blood sprayed my face, caramelizing in midair as the Pyraxis took hold. I could smell it. I could taste it. I didn’t dare gag, though.
I stepped back as the figure staggered, his hands flying to his throat, eyes wide with a stunned disbelief that I’d done something like that. That I’d ended him. He collapsed heavily onto the road in front of me, blood pooling and thickening beneath him.
I felt…good.
“Come on,” Vael said, reaching for my hand. “There’ll be more.”
He wasn’t wrong.
When the tall one fell at my feet, a strange hush rippled over the entire battlefield. It lasted no more than a heartbeat. Then, like a dam bursting, they descended upon us.
They came from every angle, every direction, shadows breaking loose from the treeline and stonework, faces twisted with the feral snarl of those who lived only to take.
I slashed at the first to reach me, my arm moving on instinct, and watched him scream as the enchanted heat in my daggerseared its way into his bloodstream, heating his blood and coagulating it in his veins. It was not a clean death; there was no mercy in it. It wasn’t quick: it was biting and excruciating, even for men whose existence I loathed entirely.
