Darkness Rising (Dark Angels 2)

I scanned the half-height boxes, seeing the remnants of a rusted garden seat, the strap off an iron fence post, and a pickax.

It had to be that. Had to be.

“Have you found it?” Lucian asked softly.

“I think so,” I said, reaching for it.

But my fingers had barely brushed the wooden handle when hell broke loose around us.

“What the fuck—?” Lucian said, spinning around.

“That dormant magic,” Azriel said grimly, “is no longer so dormant. And we are no longer alone. We need to leave—now!”

I gripped the pickax’s rough handle firmly as he wrapped his arms around me. Power surged—his power—running through every muscle, every fiber, until my whole body sang to its tune. But this time it failed to make us into energy beings, failed to transport us into the gray fields and away from the mansion.

Valdis spat and screamed—an echo of her master’s frustration, I suspected.

“What’s wrong?” I said, fear gripping me as he stepped back and drew the sword.

“The magic is preventing travel through the gray fields.” His gaze went past me, and his expression became grim. I didn’t even want to look. “Can you take Aedh form?”

I reached for her immediately. Her response was swift and harsh, no doubt due to the tension twisting my insides, but nothing happened.

“It is as I expected,” Azriel said. “We have stepped neatly into another trap.”

“Then we fight our way out of it,” Lucian said, drawing the long knives out of their sheathes and running to the right.

It was then I saw them.

Twisted, half-huma

n, half-animal beings.

Fuck.

I drew Amaya. Her anger filled me, shoring up my courage. And I needed every ounce of it as I turned around and saw that there weren’t just one or two of these creatures, but at least a dozen. Their inhuman faces were twisted by madness, and bloodlust shone in their eyes. Whatever—whoever—had done this to them, they’d killed any remnants of humanity left within them.

“Stay behind me,” Azriel said. “We’ll try to get to the door.”

But even as he said it, the creatures surged forward. He swung Valdis, the blade screaming as her fire sent blue lightning flashing across the moon-cooled shadows. Body parts went flying but they didn’t seem to care, just kept on coming—a relentless tide from which there seemed no escape.

They swarmed over him and lunged at me. I moved backward, Amaya gripped in one hand, the pickax in the other, swinging both as hard as I could. My arms shuddered every time a weapon hit flesh, but it didn’t seem to make a difference to the tide of bodies in front of me.

And their stench … they smelled like humans who were now rotting inside. My stomach twisted and rolled, but I wasn’t entirely sure the smell was solely responsible for that.

From the back of the pack, blue fire begun to erupt, and I knew Azriel was attempting to return to me. I had no idea where Lucian was, but I could hear the howls and screams of creatures to the right and guessed he was still doing damage.

A shadow leapt above the writhing mass of twisted flesh, coming at me with speed—a dark form with feline features and half-furred skin. It resembled a man-sized cat—a cat with twisted, yellowed canines and hands that ended in long sharp claws. I ducked, letting the thing arc high above me, and swung Amaya. Her hissing was lost to the inhuman sounds these things were making, but her black blade sliced through the creature’s underbelly with ease. Blood and gore rained down on me as the creature’s momentum sent it tumbling over the railings and down onto the floor below.

I didn’t look to see if it was dead. I didn’t have the time.

Another creature leapt at me. I backed away, hit the railing that ringed the void, and swung both weapons. The creature snarled and twisted, its clawed hands lashing out—not for me, but for the pickax. They were after the key, not us.

I tightened my grip on the ax’s wooden handle as the creature tried to wrest it from my hands. It yanked me forward, into its body, clogging my senses with its reek as it snapped at my face with its teeth. I jerked backward, felt its canines slide down my cheek—marking but not cutting flesh—and lashed Amaya sideways, almost slicing it in half. Blood spurted and it howled, but it didn’t let go, tossing me left and right as it tried to win control of the ax.

Then two more creatures hit us, their momentum so fierce they sent us all tumbling over the railing and onto the floor below. We landed in a screaming tumble of arms and legs, the jolt so fierce that my breath whooshed out of my lungs and knives of pain speared my newly healed ribs. The pickax went flying from my grip, but Amaya stuck like glue, her blade flaming and her murderous hissing strong and clear in my mind.

She wanted blood. I gave it to her, swinging wildly at the nearest creatures as they scrambled to get up … after the pickax or simply wanting to get clear of the murderous blade?