Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
brEXLEY
Skeletons strode stiffly up the embankment, loaded with guns.
The clatter of their bones shivered through me.
The unnerving magic that controlled them tapped against my own bones, feeling both wrong and right at the same time.
It was different from mine, but threads I could recognize and feel like they were my own.
A necromancer’s magic.
My mother’s clan hid in the darkness, but I could feel them, their dark magic controlling the skeletons like marionettes. Moving the dead army toward Istvan and Sonya’s troops, striking fear in hearts and minds.
Even knowing the plan, I still wasn’t ready for it. The click of bones on the cement hit in unison. Clothes still hung off some, tufts of hair and patches of skin still left on others, their eyeless sockets focused blankly ahead.
The people Istvan had thrown into that river from his terrible experiments were now coming for their revenge.
“Szar,” Ash whispered next to me, his mouth parting while more and more paraded in, their bony fingers holding on to a rifle given to them by Mykel’s group. “That is so not okay.” The tree fairy shivered, everything about this going against the natural order of life and death.
“No, but it’s fucking working,” Warwick replied, ticking his chin at Sonya and Istvan.
Horror swamped the plaza, screams shrilling through the air as fear turned into chaos. Rounds of bullets drilled through the night sky; the two enemies turned on the new threat approaching, finding their bullets couldn’t kill things that were already dead.
Istvan took off running for HDF while Boyd, Nyx, Segui, and Iain started shooting at the bone army, letting Kalaraja slip away.
“No!” Killian gritted. Rising quickly, he took off after the chameleon.
There wasn’t a second of hesitation, and my boots were slapping the pavement after Killian, followed by everyone else. We were a unit. A family. We moved together, ready to kill and die for each other.
Boyd twisted around, sensing our approach, his eyes widening, then narrowing on Killian, then Warwick, and last me. A snarl hitched his lip as he pointed his gun at us.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
“Kovacs!” Warwick’s shadow bumped me, a bullet grazing my ear, only centimeters from hitting me. My body zigzagged, shooting back. Iain hustled his mother into the backseat of the SUV, firing back. We moved closer, using their trucks and tanks to hide behind.
“I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.” Boyd’s nasally voice shredded at my ear from his position beside the SUV, bubbling hate and disgust through me. “To watch all of you die.”
“You first,” Warwick snarled, glancing around the truck we were hiding behind.
“When I slit Brexley’s throat, the joy will be making you watch her die. Choking and gasping for air.”
“The joy I will feel when I watch you watch her cut off your dick and shove it down your throat,” Warwick shot back.
“Too small to choke on,” I added. “He’s also used to sucking down dicks.”
Boyd’s rage hit before I heard his bellow, the bullets from his gun bouncing off the car as he barreled toward us, a dozen of Sonya’s army with him. Sergui stayed hidden behind the car like the true coward he was.
My eyes met Boyd’s, the seething rage we both felt for each other palpable. He fired until his gun ran out of bullets, but he kept coming at me.
Warwick darted out, going for him.
“No!” I grabbed him, my head shaking. “He’s mine,” I growled through our link. Warwick instantly backed off, turning his energy on the rest of the soldiers, keeping me protected from them while I darted for Boyd.
This was personal.
Boyd’s cruel smile grew over his face, both of us understanding this wasn’t for revenge.
This was to the death.
“Farkas is going to watch me fuck your corpse.” Boyd withdrew a blade, baring his teeth.
“Should have known necrophilia was your thing. Can’t get laid unless they’re dead, huh?”
“Thought that would make you feel right at home.” He gripped the sword, his body curving in offense. “Seems you only like fucking things that were dead too.” He flicked his head at Warwick.
Holding my own blade, I countered his move, my head tilting at his words.
Another vile grin tugged at his lips. “I was the one who organized Warwick’s attack.
His death was because I rallied those men to act.
Not Killian or his second. I was the whisper in their ear.
The worm that wiggled into their small brains.
I let them take the fall when he hunted each one down.
Laughed when I threw him into Halálház for his crimes.
I saw his dead body on that field that night. He shouldn’t be here. Nor should you.”
I hated Boyd before, but now deep-seated fury wrapped around my esophagus, the magic flaming in my gut. Wind whipped through the plaza, accompanied by a crack of lightning, and the ghosts of so many dead drifted to my call, brushing by Boyd, jerking his head around at the contact.
It gave me the opportunity.
Lunging forward, I pointed my blade toward his stomach. He twisted, darting out of the way, my knife slicing through his clothes instead, spiking my ire.
I could hear the fighting going on around me, the bullets in the distance, the screams of death from all around, but I was locked on Boyd, my rage simmering to the point I could feel the ghosts slipping from my control, the nectar calling to me .
. . tempting me. All I had to do was reach into my pocket.
More ghosts darted in, skimming Boyd and me, feeling my anger. My desire.
Boyd screamed as a ghost went through him, ripping at his soul.
I didn’t hesitate; my knife drove through his torso.
A guttural grunt escaped him, fury filling his eyes as he yanked himself back, the blade drenched with his blood.
He snarled and spit, charging me. Twirling, I shot my arm out as I moved around him, punching him in the temple and stumbling him to the side.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he snarled, rushing for me.
He ducked away from my punch, his elbow slamming into my side, shooting pain along my ribs.
His blade stabbed into my thigh, ripping a bellow from my throat.
Biting back the agony, I used my other knee, slamming it up into his face.
Crack! I felt his nose break, the warmth of his blood gushing over my leg.
“You fuckin’ bitch!” He jerked back, his eyes glowing with hate. Wild and unfocused. All sense being shoved aside with the urgency to kill me. We lunged, crashing into each other, hitting the ground with force, the blade slipping from his grip.
His teeth snapped at me, his hands going for my throat, his nails digging into my skin as he straddled me, blood and saliva dripping from his mouth.
“Die, you fucking cunt,” he sneered, closing down on my throat. Dots ebbed at my vision, air leaking from my lungs. A chuckle spit from my lips, forcing him to blink down at me in confusion.
“Don’t you remember?” I coughed out. “I fuck death, and it comes back for more.”
Ghosts tore through him, forcing his grip on my throat to loosen, and he cried out.
My hand knocked at his elbow, fully breaking his grip from my neck as my other hand drove up.
The blade pierced through his throat like an ice pick, gushing air and blood from his neck.
His mouth opened and closed, searching for air, his body falling off me as he tried to pull the object from his throat.
Climbing up to my feet, I snarled down at him, our gazes meeting.
I could see the panic, taste his fear, and feel death hovering over him. My spirits waited for his to rise, to drag it away like a piece of trash.
“Look who’s the smelly dead fish now.” I leaned over him, my hand wrapping around the handle, slamming it deeper in his throat, yanking it to the side until I felt bone. “Die, asshole.”
His mouth opened in one last gasp, nothing coming in or out, life bleeding from him faster than the blood. His gaze met mine one last time.
Dead.
“Princess . . .”
I whirled at the feel of his shade. The real man stood yards away, covered in blood, his eyes locked on me.
Dead bodies littered the ground at his feet.
He moved without another word, our bodies crashing together, his mouth colliding with mine with a brutal kiss.
His hands gripped my face, digging into my hair almost painfully.
It wasn’t passion; it was need. Need to know I was alive. I was here. I was okay.
Tires screeched over the pavement, jerking Warwick and me to the sound.
“No!” Lukas screamed as the black SUV tried to drive away, running for it. Sergui was behind the wheel, Iain in the passenger seat, his mother in the back.
We couldn’t let them escape.
Kek’s eyes flashed black, her skin turned pale, and her cheekbones stuck out.
Her hands went up, and she forced a nearby truck to move, skidding it in front of the SUV, blocking the path.
The SUV slammed into it, Sergui’s head cracking into the wheel.
Blinking, his head bleeding, I could see Iain screaming at him, leaning over, trying to back up the car.
Kek held on to it, her body shaking with the effort.
She was a demon, but nowhere near as powerful as other demons. This had to be draining her.
“Get Iain,” Ash yelled at Lukas. Both ran to stop the SUV from escaping while battling more of Sonya’s guards, an endless amount coming from all sides.
Warwick and I moved next to Ember, Eli, Killian, and Wesley, helping cut down some of the numbers, while Lukas ran for the passenger door, shooting at the glass, only cracking the bulletproof window. Sergui punched the gas right when Kek let go, the car slamming back into a tank, trapping them in.
Endless soldiers kept coming for us, giving us no chance to move from a single spot. It would only be a matter of time before one of us messed up and got killed.