Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
One at a time doesn’t seem to be working for them. Or perhaps Marc runs out of patience. Because five vampires rush the room. The first falling at shots from Henry. And the second suddenly has a spear sticking out of his chest. Benedict surges forward with a short sword in hand. He removes a creature’s head from its body with relative ease. But a bullet from another hits Benedict, and he snarls in pain.
Henry drops his pistol and draws a pair of daggers from the leather harness he wears on his chest. It’s like a brutal dance, seeing him and an enemy circle each other. Then knives flash and Henry grunts as a long streak of blood appears on his back. Ouch.
His enemy grins, beyond pleased. They start moving so fast it’s hard to track. Meanwhile, another falls to Benedict’s sword. He strikes and parries with ease, dealing out death with steel. I’ve never witnessed a Viking berserker at work. But the last thing that enemy will ever see is his manic grin.
None of our foes even try to reach me. Makes me wonder if Marc told them he wanted to kill me himself.
Lucas raises his axe and joins the skirmish. The sharp edge of its blade almost tearing the nearest body in two. Such a messy way to kill someone. The blood coating the head of his axe turns to dust in an instant. He was supposed to wait for his brother to appear. To save himself for that fight. But the chance of him standing idly by was never good.
All I can hear is the bang of guns firing and the clang of steel meeting steel. It’s a deafening cacophony. Ash from bodies sits in piles throughout the room. I keep my back to the wall and wait with my gun in hand to see if I can actually help. Though, the three of them are cutting through our enemies with relative ease. Give or take the odd wound from bullet or blade.
Such slaughter is overwhelming. No matter all of the death I’ve seen so recently. That it’s happening here in our home is…there has to be a word stronger than disconcerting. Though, it does kind of sum it up. This was our safe place and now it’s being invaded.
Marc at long last makes his appearance—and yes. This is what I want. For this asshole to have the final death. To be nothing more than an unpleasant old memory. Guess I have gotten bloodthirsty in a few different ways.
He’s dressed in a three-piece suit. Very showy. The way he searches the room and then sneers at me doesn’t improve the situation at all. Should Lucas fail to stop him, the creature is absolutely going to tear me to shreds. And I highly doubt my gun and I could stop one as ancient as him.
“She won’t live to see another night,” he says. “I promise it.”
Lucas’ shrug is nonchalant as fuck. But I am wise to his ways now. Hiding his heart is a given. It’s what this world taught him is safe.
Marc snarls in anger.
The force with which Lucas charges him with his axe is breathtaking. And Marc meets him with a morning star. A type of club with a spiked metal ball attached to the top. Something I have only ever seen in a medieval movie about the crusades.
They’re apparently in no rush, given how long the two have waited to kill each other. Because I can see their movements. Weapons being wielded like they’re extensions of their bodies. Centuries of practice gives the fight a particular grace. Their skill may well be unrivaled by any other, undead or alive. Despite, or maybe due to their dexterity, neither successfully manages to land a blow. And after a minute or two, they step back from the bout, seemingly by unspoken consensuses, and each sets their weapon on the ground.
Marc growls in my general direction. Like he hasn’t got enough going on in his life right now. Then he leaps at Lucas, and the two crash together again. I swear the ground shakes from their fury. Their hands hammer and claw at each other. Demons set loose from Hell couldn’t seek more destruction. The brothers’ hatred for one another is all-consuming. Bone cracks and blood flows, but neither stops or even pauses.
Henry and Benedict must have disposed of the rest of the thugs. Both are wounded, but the rest of our enemies are gone. They don’t interfere in the ongoing fight between the brothers, however. No matter how much I might like them to help. My own complete lack of skill with a gun rules me out, too. Our maker is on his own. He probably wants it this way, but I do not have to like it.
Which is when an unhappy thought occurs to me. There’s a small to medium chance I may have emotions happening when it comes to Lucas. Things beyond irritation and anger and outrage. Because the panic I experience as he faces such peril is extreme. On the verge of a total meltdown on my part. The thing is…I haven’t heard all of his stories. I don’t know as much about him as I would like. And the idea of our time together being brought to an abrupt end is fucking awful. I am this close to messy crying as the two brothers wage war against each other.