Blow for blow, kick for kick, she managed to match the other supernatural creature. Long claws had erupted from his fingertips, but they were ineffectual against her body armor until he managed to drag them across her bare hand. She screamed.
Michael licked her blood from his claw. “Delicious. I want another taste.”
“That’s the only one you get, asshole!”
Instead of waiting for him to move, she attacked. As they fought, Michael forced her closer and closer to the outer edges of Aimee’s garden. Increasingly dizzy, Cassandra had trouble landing her blows. Michael hammered her with his fists, knees, and feet. Falling back, she stumbled, her legs suddenly giving out on her. Landing in a spray of tall lavender flowers, Cassandra flailed as the world tilted around her. Disoriented, she struggled to get up, but Michael landed on her.
“Ah, did you fall into the nasty vervain?” Michael chuckled, his mouth elongating into a pointed snout edged with long fangs. Darting his head forward, he tried to bite her throat.
Cassandra managed to get her hand up between his maw and her neck just in time. The sharp teeth ripped through her flesh, eliciting a scream of agony. Pressing the palm of her other hand against his forehead, she tried to push him away, but he bit down harder. Bones cracked and blood spilled from her hand.
There was a flutter of movement behind Michael’s head. A second later, the blade of a ceremonial dagger flashed under Michael’s chin. Hot steaming blood poured out of his slit throat as his jaws released his hold on Cassandra.
“We’re done with you,” Aimee’s voice said coldly. She stood just behind him, clutching the dagger she had earlier given to Cassandra. She must have recovered it from the floor of the game room.
Michael thrashed about, trying to staunch the bleeding with his hands.
Aimee extended her hand to Cassandra. “C’mon.”
Head swimming, Cassandra managed to grip the witch’s hand while cradling her injured hand to her chest. Aimee hauled Cassandra to her feet, then pulled her away from the vervain. Instantly, Cassandra began to feel much better.
Glancing toward Michael, Aimee said, “He’s going to heal.”
“We’ll be gone by the time that happens.”
“You need to heal now.” Aimee looked at Michael significantly.
Inside the house, the sounds of battle continued, but at a slower pace. Either Frank’s men were whittling down the last of Arnost’s people, or vice versa. Soon the victor of the battle would be looking for them.
Cassandra motioned to Michael. “Can you get him for me?”
Lips set in a grim line, Aimee held out her hand, then sharply drew it back toward her. Michael’s body was dragged facedown through the remains of the garden to their feet. Seizing his head by his hair, Cassandra pulled it back and drove her sharp teeth into his sweaty skin. She gave him no pleasure, letting him feel every agonizing moment of her feeding. He gurgled, clawing at the ground. The loss of blood had weakened him, but she knew he would heal very soon. The power of his blood unfurled inside of her, hot, primal, and hungry. Struggling to contain it as it mingled with her dark nature, she instantly hated that she had fed from him. The darkness inside her was howling with pleasure and she felt it filling her, quashing her humanity.
And then the softest touch rested on her cheek and the darkness fled. Instead, she felt the peace and quiet of the night fill her. Aimee’s white magic was a light inside of her, glowing as softly as the tranquil moon. Releasing Michael, Cassandra rose and turned toward Aimee.
With sweet gentleness, Aimee kept her hand pressed to Cassandra’s flushed cheek. “You’re not a monster,” she said in a soft voice.
Nodding, unable to speak for fear of the emotion that might choke her, Cassandra willed her hand to heal.
“We need to go,” Aimee said at last, her hand dropping to her side.
“That fucker, Frank, did you get him?” Cassandra asked, following Aimee to the wall.
Aimee shook her head. “I got Arnost, but Frank vanished.” Pain and anger filled her voice and were etched into her brow.
Taking hold of Aimee’s arm, Cassandra bent toward her. Staring into her eyes, she said, “He will never hurt you again. I swear it.”
A small smile pressed itself to Aimee’s lips.
“Outside!” a voice called out from the interior of the house. “They’re outside! I see them.”
Aimee grabbed Cassandra’s hand. “Time to fly.”
A small yelp escaped Cassandra’s lips as they were flung off the ground and onto the high wall. They landed on the narrow edge and Aimee whirled about and tossed several spells into the garden below. Purplish-blue flames erupted. Michael collapsed with a groan, but did not burn.
“It’s not real fire. It’s the manifestation of the spell. It’ll knock all of them out for a few hours,” Aimee explained.
Cassandra grinned. “You do think of everything.”