Chapter 13
“N-No, PLEASE!”
With one hand gripped onto the final man’s shoulder, I take his neck and completely rip him in half. The popping of tendons and snapping of bone echoes as silence befalls the space around me.
The two cars that had been pursuing us are both on fire—unsurprising, considering I tossed one onto the other, killing three of the four in the first vehicle. The three from the other unlucky car had to die being torn apart, like this lad.
This isn’t entirely how I wanted this mission to go to get Lucifer back, but it must be done. We need to hurry and get as far away from here as possible.
“Amarah, where are you?” This bond is fucking weird, but at least I’m able to stay connected with her.
It’s strange… at first, when her voice was hitting my head, I thought she was just talking. There was no mistaking it for anything else when she screamed for me. I’ve never felt so enraged. I can’t believe I didn’t just snap that nurse’s neck immediately.
Speaking through it is fairly easy; it’s like an indigo string my mind can latch onto, and whatever I think seems to reach her.
Apparently that isn’t the case right now, though. Silence comes through the bond, and I hum aloud before waving my hand into the air, dismissing the Crimson Dawn.
I turn from the wreckage, sprinting quickly up the slight incline and following the road in the direction Atlas was driving. The concrete is stained in blood, just like myself, and all the greenery surrounding me is splattered as well. But that isn’t what sends concern spiking through me.
A few miles up, I see the road barrier completely bent outward—indication enough that a car went through it. I sprint to it, and the moment I lean over the ledge, the wreckage comes into view. Honestly, I’m shocked the vehicle isn’t on fire.
And it’s then I see the two of them.
Amarah is kneeling over Atlas, covered in blood; him not as lathered, but still a shade of pink from being under the Crimson Dawn.
I jump down the rocky incline and start making my way toward them. My eyes narrow in on the little slayer, and now that I’m close enough to notice Atlas’s lack of—wait… does she have his fucking shirt on?!
“Your collarbone is broken,” she says, placing a hand onto his shoulder.
“And you? You look a mess.” I watch him shift, adjusting himself before taking her wrist, and an irrational heat builds at the back of my neck. “How’s your arm?”
She sighs and gently pulls away from him. “Okay. Can Kayn heal you?”
“Ugh.” Atlas throws his head back against the car. “More humiliation.”
The rocks below me roll down as I move faster, with a bit more purpose. It gets her attention, and as she slowly turns her head up to meet my gaze, her eyes widen as if surprised.
What? Did she think I wouldn’t come to them?
Why is she shocked?
She shuffles back, wobbling to her feet just as I reach their side. The moment I’m close, she reacts in that same familiar manner: arms gripping around her waist, closing herself off, holding on like she’s keeping herself from splitting in two. Gods, she needs to fucking eat.
“What happened?” I pull my gaze from her to look at Atlas, who has a roguish grin plastered on his face.
“Nothing.”
“A Werewolf knocked our car down the hill,” Amarah provides softly. “We rolled down and boom, here we are.”
“And… where is said Werewolf now?”
My friend gestures with his head downward. I’d been too focused on the girl to notice the four slabs of meat resting lazily just a few feet behind the Witch. It looks like it fell cleanly into a table saw, sliced into even pieces.
I find my gaze raking up her legs, all the way up to her face, the blood beginning to crack as it dries in places. “I channeled.”
“Yeah, she did,” Atlas says through a groan.
“Don’t get too excited… I was only able to connect for a very specific reason.”
I narrow my eyes on her. “And that reason?”
She simply looks at Atlas, and before I can demand she speak, my friend is grabbing my attention.
“Hey, Butcher, listen. I don’t want to even ask for this—and again, don’t tell anyone—but do you mind?”
“Why didn’t you answer me when I reached out to you?”
She clears her throat and lowers her head, looking at the groaning Mundane. “Sorta busy.”
“Getting undressed,” I mumble before quickly moving down to Atlas. “Collar couldn’t hurt that bad if you took your shirt off.”
Pressing my wrist to my mouth, I bite into the flesh, and just as Atlas is about to say something stupid, I’m sure, I thrust it against his mouth. “You know the drill.”
He grumbles but takes in a helping of my blood.
“Thought it had to go onto the wound,” Amarah says as she slowly moves around me. I track her until she disappears behind the vehicle.
“Mundanes can drink it and it’ll heal them. Unlike for other Dylox, their blood isn’t complex. Very… boring.” My friend’s eyes narrow on me as he bites down harder onto my wrist, clearly trying to make a point.
“I see.” The sound of glass falling with her response has me turning back to see her reaching into the back seat. She’s grabbing the bag from the thrift store and the items that spilled out. It doesn’t look like everything survived the tumble, but some pieces are still intact.
“I can get that for you, Amarah.”
She freezes. I can see the twitch in her hand as it stretches into the vehicle.
What is her deal with me saying her name?
She gathers herself, takes what she can from inside the car, and pulls it out. “I’m fine, thanks.”
The sound of bones snapping back into place and Atlas groaning pulls my attention back to him. I drop my arm, and he rolls his eyes as his body begins putting itself back together. It’s not pleasant, but he’s a tough cookie
“We need to get cleaned up,” Amarah says as she moves back into view, clutching the bag in both arms. The bandage covering her stitched-up arm is drenched in blood, and I’m irritated at myself for worrying it’s not from the Werewolf.
I nod and reach down for my Mundane friend, who is mumbling as he takes my hand. I haul him to his feet. He pops his head from side to side, then fixes his eyes on Amarah.
“I’m not being carried again by this guy.” He thrusts his thumb in my direction. “Which means we are hiking.”
She looks down at her legs. “Yeah, about that…”
As if her legs call to me, my gaze drops to her bare thighs, straight down to her toes. The crimson coating her skin doesn’t hide the goosebumps lining her legs or the hairs standing on end.
She clears her throat. “I don’t mean to be insensitive to your feelings, Atlas… but our comfort outweighs your pride.”
I quite literally snort.
“I’d also rather not bleed out and have to go to another hospital. I need to change the wrap on my arm and get it cleaned.” She takes a step in his direction. “You can sit in my lap this time while he carries us.”
Watching his mouth drop is quite humorous, even if we aren’t really in a position to laugh.
“Listen, if you think I’m going to sit in your lap over his arms, that bump on your head has lapsed your judgment.”
Bump? I tilt my head, looking at the top of hers, but don’t see anything.
“Then let him carry you, and I’ll sit in your lap again. I don’t want to have this argument with you over your feelings.”
“It’s… You know what.”
How’d he know she has a bump? I don’t see anything.
“You’ve known me for a total of maybe an hour, and you’re disrespecting my—”
“I’m not disrespecting you, Atlas. Who is going to tell? I’m not. I’ll be gone after all this and you’ll never see me again. I’ll completely forget you ever existed, so what is a little bit of humiliation for some comfort?”
He groans and slowly looks at me; I catch his irritation in my peripherals. I haven’t taken my eyes off the Witch, who just calmly put him in his place. She tucks her head down but flicks her gaze at me before sighing.
“Please? I just want to—”
“Fine. The closest town is Sylverton. You going to be alright there or must I suffer longer in his arms so we can get to another town?”
It’s honestly adorable how flustered she’s made Atlas, and she isn’t even trying. He’s got OCD and keeps a very clean, precise appearance. He was picked on in the militia for it, but it helped him excel for being a Mundane, and he put every asshole in their place.
“I’ll be fine.”
Amarah steps up in front of him, and when she puts her arm around his neck, that indigo string in my mind goes taut.
He places his hands under her knees, and that same thread vibrates.
I wonder if she can feel it, because she looks over at me with indignation in her gaze.
Then she puts her hand onto his chest—alright, now she’s doing it on purpose.
What the fuck?
Doing… what on purpose?
Atlas moves to me and hisses through his teeth, “I hate this. You owe me big time.”
I scoop them up quickly. While carrying my friend isn’t really a big deal to me, it’s this anger that’s bothering me.
“Don’t overthink your feelings.” The moment I start rushing us through the trees, her voice brushes against my brain. “It’s the bond. You don’t feel anything for me. Once I’m fully connected with Vendra, I’ll ask her to break the connection.”
“Good.”
“…Good.”
Fifteen minutes later, we’re on the outskirts of Sylverton, the small town that houses a few hundred people.
It’s a tourist destination, hugged beautifully between the Kulbolt mountains.
The states fought for dominance during the reconstruction period after the Old War, but ultimately Nevadia won the bidding.
Not that they need the income—the City of Lights brings enough of that.
Regardless, Sylverton has been stagnant in time since the war ended, which makes it popular for nostalgia.
I’ve personally never been to the town’s center, and there’s no plan to do that now.
There’s a small motel along the highway, a mechanic’s shop, a bar, and a deli across the road. Its only neighbors for miles.