Page 70 of Bitten & Burned

Thirty-Eight

DUN DRUMMOND

Dun Drummond, Sol, Verdune

The sky was a deep, dark shade of indigo, with clouds drifting lazily in the moonlight. The moon itself hung full and heavy, pressed into the heavens and spilling pale light along the dips and hills of Dun Drummond.

Shadows pooled in the creases of the land, stretched long and dark across the grass until they merged with the black line of the treeline beyond. There wasn’t any movement. It felt as if time had ceased, and this was all there was.

The last time I’d been here, I hadn’t really seen any of it. My eyes had been open, but my thoughts had been lost to fear, my world reduced only to survival. I’d been under duress and was too busy breathing and trying not to scream to notice anything about the surrounding terrain.

The last time I’d been here, I’d felt like a fool. Now, even knowing better, the feeling crawled back under my skin, pricking at me.

And still… I had come back.

But not alone.

As my vision adjusted to the moonlight, I saw figures begin to emerge. Just as Quil had warned. There were slight movements in the shadows, heads rising above the hillocks.

The Ashbornes. They were watching us.

Hunting us.

They knew we were here. But they didn’t know we had a plan.

I could feel their certainty from here, their smug assumption that they had us boxed in, that we were already theirs.

That they’d take me and drag me down into whatever filthy burrow within which they kept their captives.

And then do whatever mindless, inbred animals did when they caught a woman alone.

But they weren’t expecting this me. Not this time. I had no intention of being a dead weight tonight.

If the worst happened, Vael had promised to turn me. But only if the worst happened. I clung to that vow, but I still prayed it wouldn’t come to that. My feelings had not changed. I wasn’t dying here tonight. But I truly didn’t want to lose myself, either.

I glanced over to Cassian, waiting for his go-ahead, my pulse beating loud in my ears. He didn’t speak right away. Cassian never did. But his gaze swept over each of us in turn, checking in with each of his fighters like the general he was. Taking stock before the charge.

Quil was already slunk low, shoulders coiled and eyes narrowed to predatory slits, his attention fixed somewhere far ahead where only he could sense movement. He was already hunting before the first blow had even been struck, every muscle in his body humming with readiness.

Vael stood apart from him, not truly one for hand-to-hand combat; his strength lay in words and will.

But he was here all the same, close enough that I could feel the quiet shield of his presence at my back.

He was here for me, and, though he’d never say it, I knew he’d burn through every drop of his blood, of his power, to keep me breathing.

Anton, by contrast, looked as though he’d been born for this moment. His fangs were already out, his breath shifting into something sharper, hungrier. His jaw flexed like he could already taste the metallic rush of blood. He was practically vibrating, a predator on the edge of a very welcome hunt.

Dmitri, as always, was harder to read. His expression was a mask carved from stone, but his shoulders were tight beneath his coat, the controlled tension of a man holding himself still by sheer will alone.

One massive hand gripped the shaft of his axe, the other loose at his side, only waiting for Cassian’s call to charge forward.

And then there was me. One enchanted dagger hung at my hip, the hilt warm against my palm as I brushed my fingers over it in reassurance.

The slight glow of the blade was hidden by the witchsteel sheath my father had made for me.

It also protected me from the burn. The other was tucked under my skirt on the other side, hidden beneath the fabric.

Just in case I lost the first one. Hopefully, I wouldn’t have to use it.

Steel was a poor substitute for magic or fangs, but it was mine, and I was ready for this.

Cassian glanced around one last time, his sharp gaze cutting through the shifting shadows, focusing on me for a singular heavy moment before nodding once.

Then, without another word, he and Dmitri broke from cover, sprinting across the open lawn from the safety of the treeline. Their boots struck the earth in a rhythm meant for speed, not stealth. They offered an intentional challenge. One that we hoped would be difficult to ignore.

Movement stirred in the land before us. I saw the Ashbornes begin to fully emerge from their hiding places, shapes separating from the jagged silhouettes of hedges and crumbling stone. Some nocked arrows with jerky precision, while others drew daggers or swords that caught the light.

We waited for Anton’s count. His eyes were locked on Dmitri and Cassian as they pulled the majority of the enemy out into the open.

Quil was already gone. I’d already lost sight of him, a shadow swallowed by the deeper dark. My heart climbed into my throat, pounding so hard it felt like it might crack my ribs, the first wave of rage and adrenaline already beginning to ebb before the true fight had even started.

Finally, something shifted. Anton gave a sharp nod, and he launched forward, vanishing into the dark.

Vael and I remained behind, but still in motion, our path arcing along the treeline toward the main road.

We were the bait. Once they spotted us out in the open, their ranks would split, leaving Quil and Anton freer to strike from the edges.

“Are you alright, Witchling?” Vael asked, his voice rumbled enough to be felt more than heard.

“No,” I replied honestly, my grip tightening on the hilt at my side. “I want this over.”

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Then we’d best be off.”

As we began walking up the darkened driveway, the lanterns lining the path flared to life, one at a time, in perfect sequence, as though unseen hands were lighting them just ahead of us.

Each glow spilled across the gravel in a widening pool before being swallowed by the black again. A simple parlor trick that was meant to intimidate and to make us feel watched. As if Silas knew the exact moment our boots touched his land.

But I recognized it for what it was: an old, stagnated spell set to react to movement. My father had used something similar at our home, though his had burned with a warmer light.

We kept walking, the air thickening with every step, and, as each lantern flickered to life beside us, Vael moved closer, his coat brushing against my arm.

I could hear them now, out there beyond the halo of light from the enchanted lanterns. But then, it was nothing; the surrounding dark made into an impenetrable wall. Filled with snarling, wet sounds.

Heavy breathing seemed to vibrate through the ground. Shambling footsteps crunched twigs, flattening grass.

I drew in a slow breath, forcing it steady as we moved forward, my spine rigid with the effort of not showing my fear. Each heartbeat felt audible, and blood rushed in my ears.

It all happened at once. A noise too close to us. I heard it and spun, my skirts and coat whipping with the motion, coming face to face with one of those… inbred monsters.

This one was nothing like the gangling, half-starved specimens that I’d encountered at Halemont. This one was big. Nearly as big as Dmitri.

Fuck.

My teeth clacked together with the jolt of adrenaline as I reached for my dagger. The blade came up in a single motion, my grip steady as I swiped. Hot blood sprayed my face, caramelizing in midair as the Pyraxis took hold. I could smell it. I could taste it. I didn’t dare gag, though.

I stepped back as the figure staggered, his hands flying to his throat, eyes wide with a stunned disbelief that I’d done something like that. That I’d ended him. He collapsed heavily onto the road in front of me, blood pooling and thickening beneath him.

I felt… good.

“Come on,” Vael said, reaching for my hand. “There’ll be more.”

He wasn’t wrong.

When the tall one fell at my feet, a strange hush rippled over the entire battlefield. It lasted no more than a heartbeat. Then, like a dam bursting, they descended upon us.

They came from every angle, every direction, shadows breaking loose from the treeline and stonework, faces twisted with the feral snarl of those who lived only to take.

I slashed at the first to reach me, my arm moving on instinct, and watched him scream as the enchanted heat in my dagger seared its way into his bloodstream, heating his blood and coagulating it in his veins.

It was not a clean death; there was no mercy in it.

It wasn’t quick: it was biting and excruciating, even for men whose existence I loathed entirely.

A sharp crack pierced the silence behind me. I spun in time to see another enemy crumple in a heap at my feet, Vael’s hands still outstretched, his shoulders rising and falling with heavy, deliberate breaths as he caught my arm and pulled me along.

Two more broke from the fray, sprinting toward us. Pain flared hot in my leg with each step as Vael urged me forward.

Just before they reached us, a blur carved through the space between.

The impact sent both attackers flying like ragdolls, and when my vision caught up, Cassian was crouched low, one fist pressed into the ground.

He rose in a single, fluid motion, spitting something red and stringy from his mouth as fresh blood, not his, streamed down the front of him.

“Keep going,” he urged, voice rough but steady.

Nearby, I heard, rather than saw, Anton. His voice cut through the noise, low and savage, curling around each word like a promise. “Go ahead. Try to run. Your legs won’t work. Yes… That’s it. Now pick a god, and pray.”

The words sent a shiver down my spine, though they weren’t meant for me.