Fangs & Freaks (Shifters of Myths and Legends #1)

Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Bellonna

We materialize on the shadowy edge of the sprawling field, in a plume of swirling red and black smoke. The smell hits me immediately—a vile mix of brimstone and decay, sharp and acrid, like the aftertaste of a curse. Even after three hundred years, I still haven’t gotten used to it.

Warrick and Blackwell stumble forward, coughing, swatting at the dissipating tendrils of smoke, trying to move the vile obscenity as far from them as they can. Warrick inhales sharply, grimacing as he does. “Oh, for the love of—what is that smell?” he rasps, his hand covering his nose and mouth. “Did we just walk through the bowels of Hell?”

“Stop being a baby. You act as if you don’t smell like death and decay yourself.” I’d hate to ever see him with an actual kid. He’d probably puke the instant the kid shit its pants.

“I didn’t. You must have covered it up with some of your voodoo shit, or the stench of Hell was masking it.” He continues to cough, holding tightly to his stomach. If he keeps up with this act, he’s going to alert the guards to our presence.

Blackwell steps up next to him, smacking him on his back. I get ready for much of the same theatrics from him, but his reaction is more subdued. He blinks a few times, brushing an invisible fleck of ash from his shoulder as he sniffs the air. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve smelled.” His voice is dry, though his nose twitches involuntarily. “But it’s certainly in the top three. That whore with the open, oozing wound on her face that wanted me to lick it and then eat her pussy still has the top spot.”

Fuck me, now I’m going to be sick!

I put my hands on my hips, glaring at both of them, my dark eyes narrowing on them. “Oh, grow up, the both of you,” I snap. “You’d think after all the death and carnage you’ve dealt with, you’d be a little more tolerant of a slightly unsavory smell.”

“Slightly. Slightly!” Warrick barks. “Maybe after three hundred years it’s fried your sense of smell, because there’s nothing slight about it.” He scowls as he flashes his fangs at me. “I tolerate a lot, Bellonna. This? This is a personal attack on my senses.”

“Maybe you should stop breathing, then,” Blackwell interjects, smirking as he leans casually against the brick stones making up the outer wall of the two story church. “Problem solved.”

“I don’t breathe, you fucking moron. But I can permanently end you.” Warrick straightens his body to his full height and I shake my head at these two bickering like kids.

“Not until I find out about reincarnation. I told you I have plans to come back as a cock-pussy.”

“Can the two of you fucking cut it out? We have work to do. In that fucking building…” I wave my hands frantically at the two story brick building, my hands trailing all the way up to the steeple that seems to touch the moon as the light cascades down on it. “is my mate's sister, and she’s waiting for us to rescue her. So either you’re coming with me, or staying out here and bickering like an old married couple. Which is it?”

“That’s right, we’re here for a reason and it's not to risk our necks while smelling like burned demon farts, Warrick. Get over the smell. It’s not that bad, and you might as well get used to it. It’s part of Bloody and she ain’t going nowhere,” Blackwell pipes in and I give him a flirty wink.

Maybe I’ll treat him with a replay of that cock-pussy encounter tonight.

“Ass kisser,” Warrick mumbles under his breath. “So who’s going here?”

I roll my eyes at them and take a step forward, the soft crunch of the grass under my boots the only sound. My gaze fixes on the church, taking in the ostentatious structure, my thoughts drifting to the task at hand. Despite the banter about the smell of my smoke, I can feel the tension rolling off both of the fangbangers, flowing through the air in an almost palpable wave. They may not have liked the way I transported them, but they like the enemy waiting inside the church even less.

My eyes drift around the land, memories of happier times with my father, family, and at the time who I thought were my friends, flood my mind. But nothing that was before remains. I made sure of that. I was never going to let my family's home be tainted by such vile souls. Even for how briefly they were meant to live. I can’t help but smirk at the irony of the situation. The idiots built their precious church here on the very land that they signed their death warrants on. The time has come to call that debt in and pay the balance due. Too bad they don’t even know that tonight is the end of the line for them. There’s no shortcut around their deaths this time.

“Why aren’t we inside?” Warrick asks. “Why put us outside, when you could’ve easily landed us inside the church? Save us some time and work.”

“Because, my dim-witted one, it would draw attention to us,” I reply, my tone sharp enough to slice through his impatience. “We don’t know where Vienna is being held inside. Popping in blindly, not knowing who we’ll surprise in the process, puts us at a disadvantage. It limits our ability to attack and catch them off guard. It’s Military Tactics 101—you should take the course sometime.”

Blackwell bursts out laughing, the sound obnoxious, while Warrick just glares at me, his expression as stiff as ever. He obviously doesn’t get my sense of humor or my straightforwardness. His loss, not mine. Maybe one day he’ll get that stick out of his ass and come around.

I lean back slightly, letting my gaze sweep over both of them as I add, “And before you ask why I don’t just shadow in and out to grab Vienna, let me spell it out for you. That’s not foolproof. People survive fires. They crawl out, scarred but alive, and that’s not the kind of ending I’m going for here.”

Blackwell’s laughter dies down as he catches the edge in my voice, the weight of what I’m saying sinking in. “This isn’t just about getting Vienna out. This is the finale—the moment we end this for good. I want it to be dramatic and bloody. I want every second of it seared into their memories, into my memory. So we’re doing it my way.”

For a moment, there’s silence, the weight of my words pressing down on all of us. Then Warrick crosses his arms and mutters something under his breath, but he doesn’t argue further. Because he knows, as well as I do, that this isn’t just about strategy—it’s personal.

“I’m taking the front,” Blackwell announces boldly, his tone casual but edged with anticipation. “I’ve got some energy to burn, and a good fight sounds like the perfect outlet.”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t argue. I can’t disagree with him. “Fine. Go ahead and make a scene. Devil knows subtlety was never your strong suit.”

Blackwell smirks, already moving toward the front of the church, but before disappearing around the side, he sticks his head back. “Subtlety is overrated.”

Warrick scoffs and runs his hand through his dark hair, his sharp gaze sweeping over the left side of the church. “I’ll take this way,” he says, jerking his chin toward the shadowed path. “Don’t wait up.”

He’s off before I can even reply, leaving me standing in the faint moonlight, alone. “Right it is,” I mutter to myself, my boots crunching softly against the small rocks making my way up the walkway as I veer off around the corner, into the darkness. I make sure to shift to my non-Bloody Mary form, to not draw attention if I encounter anyone along the way.

The oppressive presence of the church presses down on me, bringing memories of the night I died to the forefront of my mind. It’s one of the reasons I never come here—the weight of the memories. My senses are on high alert, as I move along the side of the building to the entrance. The faint sound of muffled voices and footsteps reaches my ears as I close in on the door, but it's not anything I can’t handle on my own.

The door’s ajar, and I shake my head. They are so confident in their security they don’t even bother to lock their doors, even with a prisoner on the premises. The voices become fainter, letting me know they’re moving further away, and I take advantage of the moment to carefully open the door a little wider, giving me the space I need to slip inside.

I move quickly, knowing time is of the essence. My steps are quiet as I spot a guard, his attention focused on his phone, unaware of my presence. I move swiftly, my hands slipping around his face, covering his mouth as I break his neck. Any other time I’d let his body fall to the floor, but this time, I cradle his body, gently guiding it to the floor.

I could hide his body, but with Warrick and Blackwell present, I know we’ll be discovered soon, so hiding it is unnecessary; that time could be used to find Vienna.

As I round the corner, checking first to see if anyone’s coming, my eyes land on a crudely drawn sign plastered to the wall ahead. The arrow, pointing down the hallway, looks like a sketched penis, perched just above the word Dungeon scrawled in bold, jagged letters. I raise an eyebrow, taking a moment to pause and appraise the artwork. “Classy,” I mumble, the word dripping with sarcasm.

I don’t normally wield weapons, only needing the powers that Lilith beseeched upon me, but tonight I need to shed blood the old-fashioned way. I pull the knife from the sheath on my thigh, ready to take out any foe I encounter along the way.

I round the corner, running into a brick wall. The fucker lets out a boisterous laugh, his putrid breath wrapping around me, causing my stomach to churn.

“What do we have here?”

How does he not know who I am? Have I been so lenient over the years that they don’t tell their members what they did? Who they are? What their penance is? Have the tales of their demise not been shared? Everyone here should know damn well who I am. The thought is a cold dagger to my pride, but I push it aside for now.

“No one,” I mumble, avoiding looking him in the eye, putting on the persona of the meek female.

“Oh, I think you are someone. In fact, you’re going to be the bitch on her knees, sucking my cock.” He takes hold of my hair, forcing me down to the floor, and I let him think he’s in control, let him think he has the upper hand as I go to my knees, keeping my knife hidden from his view. “Are you going to be my good little cum dumpster, baby?”

“Yes, I am,” I say sickeningly sweetly, already wanting to puke.

He reaches for his pants, undoing them, then reaches in, pulling out his cock and I want to gag. Come on, it’s the twenty-first century, hasn’t the man heard of manscaping? He’s got a fucking forest growing in his pants. He expects me, or any woman for that matter, to put her mouth on his micro penis.

“Open up, bitch, and take my mammoth cock,” he orders, and I hold back my laughter. Seriously, is this man delusional? Do I need to book a room at the mental hospital and get him on medication?

I play the part, taking his nasty member in one hand and grip my blade tightly with the other. I peer up at him, batting my eyes, watching him eat that shit up just like all men do. “You’re so fucking big,” I mock gasp. “I don’t know if I can take it all in.”

“You can and you will and I don’t want your fucking teeth touching it or I’ll bust them out of your mouth,” he snarls.

“Oh, my teeth won’t draw one ounce of blood,” I tell him, the edges of my mouth curling up in a sinister smile.

I let my magic seep out, giving him the illusion of his cock being sucked. His head falls back against the wall, his eyes closing as he gives over all of his control to me. His mistake, I win. I use his error in judgement to my advantage as I place the blade against the base of his shaft and use my magic to push it through, severing his cock. His scream echoes through the empty hallway as blood spurts from the wound.

“What the hell did you do, bitch?” he shrieks as he grasps his non-existent cock, trying to control the bleeding.

“I didn’t bite. But it’s time for me to go.” I don’t give him another look as I head down the hallway.

More guards cross my path, but they succumb just as quickly, their lifeless bodies leaving a trail behind me, marking my path for anyone who should choose to follow me. The sound of my boots echoes faintly against the stone floor as I press forward toward my destination, my determination to find Vienna unwavering.

I continue, ascending a dark, spiraling staircase of weathered stone, each step worn smooth by the passage of countless years. At the top, another sign, hastily scrawled in crude lettering, points toward the dungeons. A twisted arrow beneath the word “Dungeon” is drawn with careless strokes, as though mocking the very idea of punishment. I sneer at the sign but don't pause. It’s all I need to know.

Finally, I reach a large, imposing oak door with cast iron hinges. It stands as a silent guardian for whoever is behind it, but I no longer have patience for obstacles. With a quick snap of my fingers, the door explodes into splinters; the force reverberating through the room beyond.

Chaos erupts with the explosion as three men stand protectively around Vienna, their eyes wide with shock as they turn to face me. In the far corner, a group of women and men are chained together, their faces pale and their bodies trembling. It’s as if they sense who I am. Lucky for them, they’ll be free tonight. No more sex dungeon for them.

One of them scoffs, his voice dripping with derision as he turns toward me. “False alarm, boys. It’s just a woman. The Brotherhood sent a bitch to do their bidding.”

I step further into the room, making sure not to trip over the remnants of the door, my presence commanding attention as I take in the scene before me. A wicked smile plays on my lips as my gaze locks onto the men. “Naughty, naughty Obsidian,” I purr, my tone mockingly sweet. “Look at you, taking what doesn’t belong to you.”

“What we do doesn’t concern you, bitch,” one of them growls at me.

The men shift, their postures bracing for a fight, but I don’t flinch. My eyes twinkle, daring them to make the first move. Behind me, the splinters of the oak door still smoke, a testament to my power and resolve. It’s about to get good.