Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
T he chaos occurred in the blink of an eye.
Otto tore his fangs from Mireille’s flesh, a confused expression flitting across his face, and she crumpled to the floor, her body thrashing as the Deathstalker’s venom coursed through her.
Layla unsheathed a knife and rushed for Nostrata, stealing Otto’s attention.
Several members of the crowd shot to their feet as Ronin darted for the statue to grab the weapons, slinging Bonecleaver over his shoulder. He rushed for the altar, head and heart racing. His wolf clawed frantically at his insides.
“Enough!” Layla roared, her knife pressed against Nostrata’s throat as the ancient female choked out sinister laughs.
Ronin stopped before Kosera, brandishing both axe and sword. “You heard the female,” he growled as Kosera lifted his palms with a knowing smirk.
Keeping his weapons aimed at Kosera, Ronin glanced sidelong at Mireille. Deathstalker venom paralyzed other Fae, and was instantly fatal for humans. He had no idea what effect it would have on a half-breed. He wanted to rush to her, but didn’t dare take his attention from the Greyhorn.
Internally, he begged Mireille to hold on just a few moments longer.
“Give us the flute, Otto,” Layla snarled. “Or I swear by the Creator, I’ll send Nostrata to True Death.”
Otto wiped Mireille’s blood from his mouth, then stepped over her prone body. She was no longer twitching, and Ronin was heartened to see her chest slowly rising and falling. A normal rhythm. How was that possible?
“Now, now,” Otto said, taking a step toward Layla who pressed her knife harder against Nostrata’s neck. A bead of green blood rose on her pale, papery skin, and she hissed in pain. “Do you mean this?” He reached into his tailored jacket pocket and pulled out the instrument. It was so much smaller than Ronin expected, little larger than Otto’s index finger, and milky white with rainbow streaks running through it. “Layla. We are so disappointed in you.”
He stalked closer and Layla backed up a few steps, dragging Nostrata with her into the mouth of the fireplace.
“Think about what you are doing right now,” Otto snarled, his lips stained red.
Distracted by the spectacle, Ronin barely had time to twist himself away as Kosera lunged for him. Ronin smashed the flat of the axe onto the back of Kosera’s leg, the force of the blow nearly shattering the Beastrunner’s calf. Kosera fell to the floor, reaching for his awkwardly twisted leg and glaring up at Ronin, beads of sweat gathering on his bald head as he gritted his teeth against the pain.
Ronin bracketed the axe and sword around Kosera’s neck. “Stand down or I’ll cut your fucking head off.”
“He’s right, Julius,” Otto said. “Just wait. This will all be over soon.” Layla’s frenzied eyes bounced between Otto’s face and the flute clenched in his hand. “Nostrata has been ready to meet the Creator for centuries. Isn’t that right, Grandmother?”
Nostrata managed a subtle nod above the glinting steel at her throat, croaking. “We’re ready.”
Layla didn’t have a chance to move before Otto flashed to the wall in a supernatural blur, then traced his finger along the carved triangle and raised the flute to his lips.
Time slowed as the high-pitched, wavery note pierced the silence and the stone slabs rumbled apart.
But this time, there was no fire behind them. Only an endless black abyss.
Mesmerized, Ronin stared into the dark pit as something began to take form. A shadowy mass prowling forward.
An enormous, iridescent eye, slashed through by a slitted pupil, peered out through the slabs and a thunderous rumble shook the chamber. As if something monstrously powerful were slamming its body against the stone.
Guests screamed, bolting off the benches and scrambling for the exit while a few remained frozen in place by fear and curiosity.
Layla trembled, dropping her knife and releasing Nostrata.
Otto approached the eye, awestruck, and whispered a reverent breath. “Nyctima.”
Beneath Ronin, Kosera was similarly captivated, staring at the giant eye as he clutched his broken leg. Which was healing quickly.
Ronin used Kosera’s distraction to rush for Mireille, dropping the weapons at his side with a clang as he pulled her head into his lap.
“Mireille,” Ronin croaked, smacking her cheeks and shaking her lightly. “Mireille, wake up!”
She’s not going to answer you if she’s paralyzed by the venom, fool, his wolf snarled. Get her out of here!
Ronin ignored him, his frantic fingers coasting over her throat, searching for a pulse. Her body was warm, her breathing normal. She didn’t seem paralyzed, only unconscious.
A deafening crack tore through the chamber as chunks of stone plummeted from the ceiling in plumes of dust.
Ronin scooped Mireille into his arms, glancing over his shoulder.
What he saw hollowed out his stomach.
The triangular head of a giant serpent forced through the crumbling opening. Two rainbow eyes shimmered against its black scales as its forked tongue darted out to sniff Otto, who fell to his knees in supplication and released the flute.
It clattered across the floor, and Layla ran for it, darting a glance back at Nostrata who’d taken up a similar position of awe next to her grandson.
Layla bent down to grab the flute and Ronin’s abandoned axe and sword. She high-tailed it toward him, and they fled up the aisle, pausing briefly at the exit as Otto’s voice echoed through the chamber.
“Nyctima, please accept the gifts we have gathered here. Living souls, with the blood of both species running through their veins, trapped within these grounds for you to hunt down and devour. In exchange, we would ask that your mistress, Adelphinae, blesses us with fire magic. And that she may allow us to call upon you again when it is time to make war upon our enemies.”
The snake rose up, towering over Otto and Nostrata, who both bowed their heads.
Layla pulled at Ronin’s arm, but he was frozen in place, mesmerized by Nyctima regarding Otto with divine sentience. As if considering the male’s request.
Movement by the altar caught Ronin’s eye. Kosera, his leg fully healed, pushed upright, his gaze swiveling between the snake and the trio at the crypt’s exit. Leaving his boss to fend for himself, he stalked up the aisle.
And behind him, Nyctima cocked her head, unhinged her jaw, and spewed a jet of fire that consumed both Otto and Nostrata in a smoky, blazing swirl.
Ronin and Layla bolted down the stone hallway, Kosera’s pounding footfalls echoing behind them.
“Take her and go!” Ronin shouted, shoving Mireille toward Layla. “I’ll deal with the Greyhorn.”
Layla placed Bonecleaver and the sword on the ground, then took Mireille from him with a pleading look. “Ronin?—”
“There’s no fucking time!” he roared, snatching up the axe and laying the sword atop Mireille’s body in Layla’s arms. “Go! I’ll meet you out front. See if you can wake her up. And figure out how to get that fucking ward down.”
Layla glanced over her shoulder, eyes widening.
A colossal bull rhinoceros huffed less than twenty feet away, head bowed with its wickedly sharp horn jutting forward as its hoof scratched the stone floor. Readying for a charge.
Ronin shoved Layla behind him. “Fucking go !” He didn’t understand why she was so hesitant to leave him.
With a final, shuddering breath over Ronin’s shoulder, Layla obeyed, scurrying up the hallway and out the hidden door into the parlor.
The sound of slithering scales echoed from the crypt. As if Nyctima were on the move, in search of her next victim. Ronin snickered softly at the thought that Otto had been the final sacrifice after all.
He flipped Bonecleaver in his hands, then turned his attention to Kosera. “Your boss is dead. We don’t need to do this. We should get out of here before that snake makes a meal of us all.”
The rhinoceros snorted, then said in a deep, craggy voice, “I’ve been waiting to take you down for years , Butcher. Not missing my chance now.”
Kosera barreled down the hallway, massive hooves thundering, and it was all Ronin could do to pivot out of the charge and flatten himself against the wall. Kosera blasted past him, skidding to a stop and turning back around.
Really wish you could come out right now, buddy , he begged his wolf.
Who took one look at the massive bull readying for another charge and said, No, thanks.
You DO realize that if I die, you die too?
You got this , his wolf said flatly. I believe in you .
Kosera exploded down the narrow corridor again, but this time when Ronin tried to swivel away, Kosera swerved, smashing Ronin against the stone. His wrist smacked the wall and he dropped the axe, then pounded his fists against Kosera’s thick, rough skin. It was like trying to punch through a boulder.
Kosera dug his hooves against the floor, crushing Ronin with his heavy body. Ronin attempted to suck in a breath and something within him snapped. Jolts of electric pain seized his lungs as at least two ribs broke beneath Kosera’s incredible force.
The rhinoceros released him, and Ronin dropped to the floor, chest heaving. He swiped a wrist across his nose and blood smeared the back of his hand.
He groaned, trying to push to his hands and knees, but couldn’t manage it. He turned his head to the side, the stone floor cool against his cheek, and saw Kosera making a third charge.
He barely rolled away in time to avoid getting his head squished. His left arm wasn’t so lucky. Kosera trampled it, the bone splintering with an audible crack.
Ronin roared, terrible, blinding pain lancing through him. He curled over his injured arm, dragging it across the floor as he crawled toward his fallen axe.
This was not how he was going to go out. Fucking trampled to death by a rhinoceros holding a grudge. And not without making sure that Mireille was safe.
The thought of her strengthened him. They would make it out of this.
Together.
Curling shaking fingers around Bonecleaver’s wooden handle, he used every ounce of strength left in his legs to push himself to standing, back braced against the wall. His ribs and arm screamed in protest.
“Give up , Butcher,” Kosera grumbled from the other end of the hallway. “Or I’ll crush you into bloody pulp and bone ash.”
Ronin held out the axe with his right arm, his left limp at his side, blooding staining his teeth. He barked out a maniacal laugh. “Come and get me, Greyhorn.”
Kosera charged once more.
Ronin feinted left, as if trying to plaster himself against the wall. But when Kosera angled left, Ronin pivoted right.
And slammed Bonecleaver into the beast’s neck.
Kosera’s deafening squeal nearly burst Ronin’s eardrums.
The blade of the axe dug in deep before Ronin wrenched it free, then bent over his knees and sucked down gulps of air to fight off the debilitating nausea.
Kosera shifted into his humanoid form, pressing a hand against the gushing wound at his throat. “That was a mistake.” He rushed for Ronin, his nose elongating into a horn.
Ronin sliced out with the axe, barely missing Kosera’s stomach as the male jumped backward. Ronin could feel his own broken arm and ribs mending, the bones stitching back together in a process even more excruciating than the breaks themselves. Delirious with pain, he had trouble focusing on Kosera’s moves.
The Greyhorn slammed Ronin into the wall again, hands wringing his throat as he pointed his horn toward Ronin’s left eye.
“Such pretty eyes,” Kosera snarled, pushing in closer.
“Flattered,” Ronin choked out, “but I’m seeing someone.”
Kosera hissed out a gravelly laugh. “I think I’ll pop one out and take it as a trophy. What do you think?”
The tip of the horn dug in, and explosive sparks flared behind Ronin’s eyelid. Enough to call forth a wave of panicked adrenaline. He lifted Bonecleaver and slammed the butt-end of the handle into Kosera’s ear.
Roaring, Kosera backed away and Ronin fell to the floor, rubbing at his blissfully still-intact eye. He gripped the axe with both hands, his left arm throbbing through the repairing bones and muscles.
He arced the weapon down into the meat between Kosera’s neck and shoulder with a crunching squelch.
Kosera dropped to his knees, choking, burbling noises accompanying the red bubbles spewing from his open mouth.
“Fucking bastard,” Ronin screamed as he pulled the axe out. Blinding rage propelled him through the effort as he brought it down again.
And again.
And again .
His head rolled halfway down the hallway , Ronin’s wolf piped up. I think you can stop.
Ronin brought the axe blade to the floor, then rested his forehead atop his clasped hands on the handle, chest heaving.
Following the long red smear, Ronin’s gaze landed on the Greyhorn’s severed head, rocking slightly where it had stopped. His fat, purple tongue lolled out of his twisted mouth, his beady black eyes blown wide in death.
A faint hiss crept around the corner, and horror coiled in Ronin’s gut as a long forked tongue slithered across the stone, curled around Kosera’s head, then dragged it back toward the crypt.
Ronin didn’t wait a second longer to see if Nyctima intended to devour the rest of the Greyhorn’s body.
He plucked up Bonecleaver, then fled the gore-streaked hallway.
He needed to get back to his partner.