Page 43 of Killer of the Bells
“Fair,” Vix said, and then gave a huge yawn. “It’s better to continue to question yourself rather than to make definitivestatements. Otherwise, you could stifle your personal growth. That’s what Paris says anyway.”
I kind of wanted to meet the Paris person I kept hearing about. He seemed pretty cool.
As I pondered over how to ask more about Paris, Vix squeaked, “Oh, shit!” Then his eyes drifted shut, and he keeled over in a lifeless heap.
Oda Nobunaga dashed to the house, and I turned to look at whatever had made Vix go down.
People in military gear came from everywhere, seemingly melting into view. Not the way Haruka’s army had slipped from the shadows, but from thin air, much like Oda Nobunaga had.
One man touched his ear and said, “Take them both, just to be sure.”
I was frozen to the spot, only able to watch as the yard was filled with soldiers wearing some sort of invisibility tech.
Really glitchy invisibility tech, it seemed. Parts of each soldier were fading in and out, like a really bad AI-generated video.
A single soldier moved toward us at the command of the first soldier.
Only one! As if we were both so helpless it would only take one person to snatch us up and cart us off. I glanced at Vix, snoozing away like a toddler after a candy crash. He may have been helpless, but I fucking refused to let anyone underestimate me.
You didn’t grow up binging Indiana Jones movies and not learn at least a little bit about being a dashing adventurer. Even if I’d lost interest in life, it didn’t mean I’d forgotten who I used to be.
I shifted into a crouch, snatched a stray tent pole—the kind that had an elastic bit inside to keep it connected to a row of other poles—and whipped it hard, causing it to come free fromits connecting pole to expose the elastic. I swung it in an arc toward the lone soldier coming toward us. The elastic wrapped around his legs, and the poles tangled together, bringing the man down in one fell swoop.
I turned to check on Vix and saw a huge dog dragging him into the shadow of the house. I scrambled toward him, hoping to wrestle him free, but a kick to my spine from the prone soldier sent me sprawling.
Goddamnit. Was I going to be forced to witness yet another kind, if somewhat crazy, person be killed? If so, I’d better not fucking survive it or else I was really going to lose my mind.
I waited for more kicks or for someone to come and try to restrain me, but all I heard was a woosh of air over my head. Then there was screaming. It cut off abruptly, and then more screaming started, only to be cut off just as quickly.
I rolled over onto my aching back and forced myself to sit up.
Before me was Vale, black coat fluttering as he popped the head off person after person. You’d think he was plucking flowers with how easily he did it. And wow, did he look pissed.
Off to one side of him was Gareth, punching a hole through a soldier’s chest with his bare hand and throwing the body into a group of soldiers so hard I heard the crunch of bones and muffled gurgles as lungs collapsed while their owners still tried to use them.
Animals poured from the trees. Birds swooped down, pecking out eyes, while squirrels and rats swarmed soldiers’ bodies, tearing at their gear, stealing their weapons, and going for their throats.
The huge dog had returned with another huge ass dog, and beside them stood a massive man with a shock of white-blond hair, looking as ferocious as a vengeful Viking. Both dogs had blood on their muzzles, so it was clear they hadn’t been idle.
The battle was over in moments. I stood at ground zero, absently marveling at the pattern of blood spreading out like it had exploded from me rather than around me.
Vale dripped with blood, hands covered in gore, when he came up to me. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m not hurt,” I responded. Then I winced as I tried to get to my feet. “Okay, that kick may have done in a rib or two.”
Vale threw a violent glare at a particularly mangled corpse before touching my shoulder. It left a heavy smear of blood and viscera on my coat, and I stared at it.
“Let me see,” Vale demanded. I unzipped my coat and pulled up Vale’s sweater.
“Don’t touch the sweater,” I ordered. “I want to keep it.”
Vale glanced at me oddly before saying, “I’ll buy you another if I get it dirty.”
“No,” I insisted. “I want this one specifically. Not a new one. Don’t get it dirty.”
Vale chuckled softly. “I’ll see what I can do.”
He touched the place on my back where I’d been kicked by a jack-booted thug and snarled. The area grew warm, then hot, and I gasped.
