Chapter Twenty-One #2
I coughed as I sucked in air, my lungs happy for the oxygen, but everything fucking hurt. It burned, and I felt like I couldn’t swallow. But there was no time for any of that.
I ignored it.
All I cared about was killing the blood witch before he could hurt someone else.
I ran after him. He’d been pushed back, but he’d somehow managed to keep his footing, so he was still standing and still recovering from the unexpected magical blast.
His head was thrown back from the magic, and without hesitation, I stabbed my sword right through the gap between his bevor and his chin—right where I knew there was a chink in the armor, so to speak, because I’d worn these uniforms before, I’d practically lived in them my entire adult life before Sedoba.
The man choked on his own blood, his eyes meeting mine with anger burning in them.
He lifted his hands, trying to grab at either my sword or his own throat, and I sneered at him, whipped my sword out of his throat so he’d bleed out faster, and grabbed his wrists, my sword still in one hand, probably digging against his wrist.
“I don’t think so, asshole.”
He was a blood witch, and if he got hold of all this blood pouring out of him, he could easily heal himself and conjure a massive attack spell. That was how blood witches won battles so often. It was why they were difficult to kill.
The more you bled them, the more spells they could use.
They weren’t easy to take out, not unless you were very careful.
So I needed to wait him out until he bled out.
A van’s wheels squealed as it raced out of the parking lot, grabbing my attention, and I grimaced, searching everywhere for the other blood witch—Master Calarel Kelhorn.
Roman’s voice said, “The blood witch and the driver are gone. The rest are dead or incapacitated. We’re good.”
“Why aren’t you going after the blood witch?” He couldn’t get away. Master Kelhorn needed to be stopped. He needed to be killed… or at least arrested. I’d rather bury the evil man, but I’d take what I could get. “You need to get him before he gets away!”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Roman…”
“I’m not leaving you, Oakley.” Rome sounded so pissed off I knew better than to argue with him over it.
Instead, I stared at the blood witch fighting against my grasp and losing his strength with every passing moment.
It only took a minute, and even though I knew he deserved to die—I knew what these evil people did to their own people and to outsiders, and it was too horrible to even think about—I hated watching the life leave his eyes.
The second I knew he was dead, I set his body on the ground and glanced around the area, checking again for any stragglers, for any other attack.
Roman’s two cultists were dead, lying in bloody messes on the ground around him. I had two dead, plus the one in the weird cocoon thing. So four dead total and one captured.
And Master Calarel Kelhorn had gotten away.
“Are you okay? Are you injured?” Roman asked, grabbing my shoulders and turning me toward him. He ran his hands over my arms and chest, clearly looking for any injuries.
I grabbed his hands, stopping him and forcing him to meet my gaze. “I’m fine. I’m not hurt at all.”
Roman closed his eyes and breathed out heavily. “Thank the Mother of Scales.”
“What about you? Are you injured?”
He opened his eyes and shook his head. “No. I’m alright.”
“Good.” I sent him a soft smile, then cleared my throat, released his hands, and stepped back. “Uh… so there was a seventh?”
He nodded. “In the van, dressed in civies. I didn’t realize he was with them until the blood witch got into the van and they took off.”
I automatically said, “Master Calarel Kelhorn.”
“What?”
I grimaced, annoyed with myself for calling the evil man master. “Calarel Kelhorn. That’s the blood witch that got away.”
Roman froze for a split second. “You recognized him?”
I nodded and ran a shaky hand through my hair, grimacing at the blood on my hand. Great, I just got blood in my hair. Ew. Blech.
Now that it was over, the nerves were starting to show, and I felt shaky all over. The drop in adrenaline wasn’t helping.
“Let’s see if I know the rest.” With a grimace, I took off the mask of the blood witch I’d killed and let out a long sigh. “Mulac Sulnurni. He was only about five or six years older than me.”
“I’m sorry, Oak.”
I shook my head. It wasn’t like any of these people were my friends. No one in Gepisha’s Iron had ever liked me. They were all assholes to me when I was a kid, and when I was older, I’d purposefully cut myself off from everyone there. I hadn’t wanted any attachments to anyone. Not after Cor—
I cut off the thought and moved on to the next body.
I was able to identify every single one.
Including the bastard I’d captured—Vantor Gilmorn, a real asshole that had always hated me.
He hated all the dragons in the community—fuck, cult.
He thought anything that shifted like that was unnatural.
But he sure as fuck hadn’t minded the blood witches hurting people, bleeding some people dry, in order to power their spells.
I sneered at him, a small roar emitting from my chest before Roman placed a hand on my back and whispered, “Come on. Let’s go sit down and wait for the others, okay?”
I nodded and let him lead me over to the hood of the car where we both leaned against it, shoulder to shoulder. We could keep an eye on Vantor from here, but at least I didn’t have to stare at his ugly mug.
Roman nudged me. “This is probably a stupid question, but how are you doing?”
I sighed and lifted my hand to run it through my hair before grimacing at the sticky blood there and dropping it. “I’m… I dunno. I’m pissed that Master Kelhorn got away, and I’m… I dunno, also pissed that we were attacked. I was… I was having fun with you, and then…”
“I was having fun with you too.” He hesitated. “I thought we… I thought we caught the cult’s, um, grand master?”
I stared at him in confusion for a second before grimacing. “We had to call all the blood witches Master Whatever once they reached a certain age and passed their trials or whatever. I, um… I didn’t mean to call him master anything. Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize, sweetheart.”
I let out a long sigh. “Thanks. I just… hate that I still call them that, even in my head. Habit, I guess.”
“I get it, but you need to give yourself some grace. Habits are hard to break, and it’s not like we’re walking around meeting people from your old life all the time. Hard to break a habit that you don’t really use anymore anyway.”
I snorted. “True enough, and thank the Mother of Scales we’re not meeting them all the time.” I fake-shuddered, making him offer a tired smile.
After a few seconds, he asked, “Are you… uh, angry with me?”
My brow furrowed as I met his gaze.
“For letting the blood witch get away?”
I shook my head. “No, I… get it. I didn’t want to rush off and leave you here alone either.” I sighed. “Sorry if I yelled at you.”
He nudged me. “No worries. I’m used to it.”
I gaped at him for a second before laughing. “You ass. I don’t yell at you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Shut up.”
We both laughed, and I found myself leaning against him.
Roman called Dad, and before I knew it, we were surrounded by a billion guardsmen, my dad, and Tan.
I was still pissed at Dad, but I still let him hug me when he arrived.
And maybe I even liked it… just a little.