Page 83 of Death Will Follow

“I’m in your debt for going to the trouble of reforging the sword and delivering it to my doorstep,” Omen said, the mock sincerity returning to his voice. “It’s been ages since I’ve been able to leave my Estate.”

With that, her father lunged.

He moved with a speed that ran counter to both his size and his haggard appearance. Nova leapt back out of the path of the axe as he swung. The weight of the weapon nearly spun him around, but what he lacked in agility, he made up for in brute strength. Nova had no doubt that one good hit—one well-aimed strike—was all he needed to incapacitate her. To reclaim his blade and end her life as had been his aim since he first learned of her existence.

Omen brought the axe back in a slow but brutal arc, and Nova dodged it once again.

“You’re fast. I’ll give you that,” he rasped, charging her and pushing her toward the center of the room.

Spinning out of his reach, she sidestepped him, stopping behind his back and bringing Kinslayer down over the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Omen twisted and raised his weapon with both hands, blocking her strike with the axe handle and shoving her away.

Nova rushed to his opposite side, catching him off guard and slashing at him before he could turn to face her. Her blade met his abdomen, splitting the fabric of his tunic. The same black liquid oozed out of the superficial wound. Omen whirled on her, hissing a breath between his teeth. Disbelief flashed across his features, wide eyes flicking from Nova to the wound and back again.

Straightening his spine, he rose to his full height, towering over her. Nova shrank back instinctively, readying herself for another attack. Sweat beaded on her brow, streaking down and gathering on her lashes. She tossed her head and blinked hard against the sting.

Omen made no move to strike. Only pressed his lips together, nostrils flaring with labored breaths as his eyelids fluttered, silvery eyes rolling back in his head until she could only see the whites.

A rattle of croaking calls tore her gaze from the eerie sight, and the ravens roosting above dove from their perch. The birds swarmed her, and she threw her arm across her face, the beating of hundreds of wings thundering in her ears. Nova spun and slashed blindly with her weapon as the creatures pecked at every bit of exposed flesh.

All at once, the ravens scattered. Nova dropped her arm to find her father stood directly in front of her, bringing his axe down from overhead. She stumbled backward, and his blade missed her, the axe cleaving the shiny surface of the stone floor instead. As he hefted his weapon up once more, Nova backed away, stopping when her shoulders hit the wall.

Godsdamn it!

It was a misstep she couldn’t afford. Before she could duck or spin out of the way, Omen swung the axe at chest level, striking her in the ribs with the flat of the blade. Her breastplate caved in with the crushing blow.

Pain exploded in her side, a searing heat intensifying a hundredfold as she drew in a gasping breath. Her chest seized, and she stood dumbly with her mouth hanging open for an instant. Omen closed the distance between them, taking hold of her left wrist and nearly dislocating her shoulder as he wrenched her hand close to his face.

“This,” he hissed, eyes fixed on her mother’s ring. “Someone’s been protecting you. One of Illora’s tricks. This is why you’ve been hidden from me.” His laugh was an unnerving rattle pouring forth from the depths of his chest. “No matter. It can’t save you now.”

Nova lashed out weakly with Kinslayer, slicing a gash in the flesh of his forearm. He released his grip on her, and a viscous black liquid flowed from the wound, painting his ashen skin, dark drops landing in perfect circles on the floor. Her father momentarily distracted, Nova scrambled away, the fire in her side threatening to consume her with every frantic step. At the very least, he’d broken several of her ribs.

In a desperate bid for air, Nova fumbled with her buckles, tugged the mangled breastplate over her head, and cast it aside. Removing the armor relieved some of the pressure on her chest but did little to improve her breathing. Sensing Omen’s impending strike, she spun to face him, Kinslayer cutting through the air to block the axe. While Nova’s parry absorbed the initial impact, Omen’s assault proved too much for the reforged blade.

Kinslayer fractured along the fault lines. Nova’s gaze fell to the floor, eyes chasing the fragments of darkblade as they scattered like shards of a broken mirror. In the next breath, her father raised the axe handle with both hands and struck her in the nose. Her head snapped back, a sickening crunch followed by hot blood spurting forth and drenching the front of her tunic. Her knees buckled, sending her to the floor.

Blood flooded her throat as she came to rest on her back. Vaguely, she registered the heavy thud of the axe being dropped. Unable to escape her father as he lowered himself over her, she choked and sputtered on the metallic liquid, her boot heels sliding uselessly over slick stone. In his hand, Omen gripped the hilt of Kinslayer, a jagged length of blade still attached.

He straddled her middle and pinned her in place. She continued to fight, twisting and kicking in a futile attempt to get away. Catching her chin with his free hand, he leaned in close. The fight had taken much from him. His breath was ragged. Long silver hair hung loose about his face, the ends of the strands brushing against her cheeks.

“You look just like me,” he rasped, a wild chuckle escaping his lips. “The spitting image of your sire.”

The rush of liquid from her shattered nose slowed, her Solar blood already beginning to heal the wound. She spat what remained in her mouth at him, sending him reeling backward. He swiped a wrist across his face, not removing her blood so much as spreading it around, adding to his already deranged appearance.

He gripped her face once more, forcing her head to the side. All sound faded apart from her father’s heaving breaths. In that moment, Nova spied another piece of Kinslayer within reach. As her eyes fell upon the discarded fragment, the familiar whisper spoke in her mind, urging her to take up the shard. To wield it. Slowly, Nova stretched her hand toward the beckoning blade, the singe in her fingertips proof she’d grasped it as she chanced a glance at her father who hovered over her.

“I’m being merciful, you know,” he said between panting breaths, silver eyes fixed on her face and slightly out of focus.

She imagined she saw the same brief softening of his features she’d seen when he mentioned her mother earlier, but the expression disappeared as quickly as it came.

“The darkness . . . it will find you.”

Nova curled her fingers tight around the Kinslayer shard, the familiar burn marrying with the bite of its sharp edges slicing into her palm and fingers as she gripped it.

“As it found me.” Another ragged breath. “And my father before me.”

Determination captured her father’s features, his glassy gaze focusing as he raised the broken blade above her chest.

“The Thresher comes for us all.”