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The others surge ahead of us in a rush so strong that it creates a wind that rustles my hair.
Chase leans forward and tucks a whipping strand back behind my ear. "Stay safe."
"You too," I respond.
And then, suddenly, we're part of the melee. I'm throwing icicles at a seven-foot-tall monster that looks like a frosted wedding cake. Tesq is facing a monster made of pebbles who crumbles and reforms behind him. Dev goes crashing through a wall with his opponent, and dust flies everywhere, getting into my mouth as I lift my hand and instinctively form a giant sword made of ice.
"Do you taste as good as you look?" I ask the cake monster, swinging the sword in my hand and getting a feel for its balance.
All right, and showing off a little, I admit.
The cake monster doesn't have a mouth or a face, just pink arms and legs, but the frosted roses on its edges spin angrily, and I grin in response.
Come at me, motherfucker.
It charges, and I slice down, watching in satisfaction as my blade sinks into the thick beast, not even bothered by the reverberating sting that travels up my arms at the impact. No, I'm focused on the chunk of spice cake that falls to the ground. Holy shit. It really is made of cake.
Fuck.
I used to be disgusted by cannibalism, but this fight just got a whole lot more exciting.
My stomach growls in anticipation.
The cake charges again, and I brandish my weapon, arcing it sideways like I'm swinging a baseball bat. I sever that motherfucker's bottom layer off. It collapses into two piles, an upper and lower half, legs and arms twitching violently for a second before growing still. The fresh bakery scent of its body makes me step forward, stoop, and scoop up an experimental bite with my fingers.
Something shoves me from behind, and my lungs compress, my breath fleeing as I go sprawling. Icing coats my jacket and pants, and a pink frosting rose gets smashed into the strands of my hair as my heart jumps with fear.
Too smug. I was too smug,I curse myself as I whirl clumsily, lifting my sword as I try to force air down my windpipe.
An alien-like monster with a giant forehead and bulbous black eyes stares down at me. An eerie, breathy but high-pitched noise erupts from its mouth, revealing jagged teeth and a black tongue.
"Hello, princess," it says.
But not aloud. Inside my fucking head.
I rear back, and my sword tilts too far. I'm forced to grab it with both hands to steady it.
The alien creature lifts its hand, and I realize that it has blades for fingers.
The trickle of worried sweat trailing down my spine becomes a waterfall ofoh-fuckfreakout.
I toss my sword roughly at it as a distraction strike and struggle to clamber to my feet. But the cake is spongy underneath my boots, uneven, threatening to roll my ankles in its moist crumbles. The fucking frosting is almost a gluey barrier when my left foot slides into it and I’m unable to pull out.
Panic tightens my throat, and I shove my palms out, sending ice daggers right at this motherfucker. But his alien skin must be made of rubber or something hard because my ice doesn't penetrate, doesn't even dent him, simply bounces off and clatters to the ground.
I scramble for my pouch, though I really wanted to save that fucking emerald, but the stupid opening is covered in frosting, and my hand is stuck. A dark web of horror descends over my nerve endings and wraps me with a sense of impending doom. The silver blades on the monster’s hand gleam. Time seems to slow.
The bastard chuckles inside my head, his laugh ricocheting off my skull and echoing down my spine.
The alien raises his hand, and it hovers several feet above my heart, fingers splayed as he prepares to rip the organ from my chest.
I don't presume it. Iknowit. Because he's whispering his plan inside my head.
A horrified gasp escapes me as I lift my right leg, attempting to kick him—but a shadow flies through the air, diving across me, between us. Instead of sinking into me, the bastard's blades sink right into Chase's stomach.
His face contorts in surprised pain before his gaze lands on me, expression softening for a second, before he falls to the floor.
Chase!
