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My jaw tightens with aggravation. The pesky witches are always involved in whatever hardships we endure. “Marcus has been tracking all the spots where we’ve had sightings of rogue shifters, local witch havens, and others in the underworld who may be helping them. All signs point to them heading toward the Campania area, and if my guess is right, straight to the witch’s hideout right on the edge of its border.”
I glance around at our team, all with their preferred weapons tucked into their dual holstered chest vests, side gear for their long swords, and Lucas who likes to adopt the traditions of the centuries as they turn, a big ass gun on his side. It may not kill a traitorous vampire, but it will stop them for a minute while he drives one of the stakes we all carry right through his evil black heart.
Overmaster Descallia looks around the room. “Let’s go, and be extra careful. Isala does not leave a trail unless she wants us to fall into it.”
Chapter
Eighteen
White and green hued shadows cut through the pitch blackness of the night, flying around my mind, whizzing this way and that, until all of them begin to attack. They come at me from every direction, giving me no immediate course of escape.
My chest beats frantically with fear of the unknown as the spirited lights begin to make their way closer and closer. My hand runs down the length of my waist, where my long sword usually hangs when in battle, but there’s nothing but the material of my clothes to defend myself with.
No weapon, and in a world that I do not fully understand. But I have skills and a desire to be by Calabrea’s side and if this is how I have to prove it, so be it. I watch the patterns of them flying by, keeping the toes of my right foot planted, ready to spring.
“Come on, you filthy little bastards,” I call, egging them on, calling them closer because that’s the only way that I’m going to get my hands on one of their weapons, and without that I’ll never win.
They know it, and so do I…
But still they come, whizzing in every direction around me, some trying to distract me while others try to run me through with glowing rods of steel. I swallow down my fear, doubling my resolve to let them get closer without cowering on the ground. My back goes rigid, and I rock on between the heel and toe of my right foot, counting the seconds before the evil ghoul with big eyes and no other face underneath that green hood gets just a little bit closer.
And when he does… I attack.
Grabbing the long dangly black cape, I yank it hard and catch him off guard in order to take his sword. I point it at the fiendish ghoul now staring at me from the ground, getting closer, searing him with the end of its hot molten tip. The wounded screech draws his brothers toward me, surrounding me in a circle, but that’s okay, because now they’re exactly where I want them. They march forward but, in their haste, they’ve forgotten the first rules of combat.
But I have not…
I hold my breath, remembering Embry’s stories of instinct taking over, of being able to jump, leap, and transport her body with simple mind commands, and the minute they’ve all begun to approach me and left no one behind to guard their flanks, I jump. Right over the army of green hooded ghouls, into the air and onto white puffy clouds that provide a path for me to follow. I jump from one to another, never looking back and only ahead to the stark gold gates that lay ahead.
When a dark hooded beast with orange eyes appears out of nowhere and stands in my way, it stops me dead in my tracks. I suck in a deep breath, so close, but yet so far. I gesture him to me, taking in the green fingernails that extend from his hairy hands, and gripping a laser-like sword of his own.
Lucianna’s shimmering image appears before me. Her crystalline green eyes glow bright. “Remember who you are and what you are destined to accomplish, Tansia.” She turns and the brilliance of her eyes shine a path right through the demon and directly through the gates that I am determined to get through before her image floats into the distance and out of sight.
The demon-like creature continues toward me. His sword waves in front of him, but I have one of my own and righteousness on my side. I lunge, preferring offense to defense and drawing a wounded cry from the surprised beast as the tip of my sword sears a gap of fire across his unprotected chest.
He recovers fast, though, his sword as long and capable as my own. The demon is a worthy opponent, but he is only one, and my determination will not let him win, no matter the cost physically. His sword crashes into mine hard. I manage to hold it steady, but it takes all of my strength as his brute strength is far greater than my own.
But when our swords come apart this time, instead of drawing back when a normal component would, I take him by surprise. I don’t take the step back to reinforce my next lunge; instead inhaling a deep breath, I race forward. I use all my rage to attack first, sending the smoldering tip right through the demon’s heart and him swirling into the atmosphere with a feral shriek.
The gates beacon in the distance, glimmering with the hope of a new and immortal existence. I do not hesitate, walking sure-footedly across the clouds toward my destiny at the other side. My chest heaves with exhaustion when the gold glimmering metal parts allowing me entrance, but a feeling of elation so overwhelming that I can barely breath wraps around me like a cocoon.
A hand cradles my shoulder, gently shaking me. “Tansia.”
My eyes are heavy with fatigue and battle of the transition as they open, trying to focus on my surroundings. I swallow through the fear, as things begin to come into a hazy focus. Angel’s voice cuts through the fog, comforting me with the familiarity of my dearest friend.
“It’s over, Tansia. You’ve crossed over; nothing can hurt you anymore,” she says, soothingly, her hand still cradled on my shoulder.
Her face comes into view, and the blurriness slowly begins to dissipate. “What happened?” I ask, my voice sounding as cracked and dry as my throat feels.
Angel tips a glass with water in it toward me and slants a straw to my lips. “Small sips so you don’t get sick.”
I swallow, trying to heed her warning but so thirsty that it’s impossible not to almost inhale everything there is in an attempt to quench the almost insatiable thirst. I cough, trying to swallow too quickly, and she helps me sit up, patting me on the back until I’ve cleared the water from my airway.
And the minute the room comes into complete focus, I remember. The realization that Sierra wounded me so badly that I would die and never be able to say the things I wanted to say to Calabrea, do the things that I wanted to do, and then his concerned voice giving me a choice. An invitation into his world, with him by my side for eternity.
I sit up straighter, getting my bearings a little more, recalling every word he said, the feel of his fangs sinking into my skin, taking that which I offered through the squeeze of a hand, and the healing essence he gave me in exchange.
My hand floats to my throat. I skim the surface of my neck, trailing the length, and finding it as smooth as it has ever been.
