Page 9 of Heir of Broken Souls (HOBF #3)

Chapter 9

Delilah

T error clutches me in its grasp as I’m pulled through the wall of Knox’s study. No matter how hard I try to flail and kick, my limbs are heavy and slow.

The shadowed hand over my face tightens its grip as light floods my vision. Then time resumes its normal pace as I and my attacker stumble into Knox’s foyer.

In a blind panic, I thrash. Grunting, the hand across my mouth keeps my lips sealed. My voice struggles to be heard but more than that, my body struggles to be set free.

The golden power within me rises, coiling tight. Without a thought of my own, my magic takes control, summoning itself as a golden viper’s head. Its mouth distends, its fangs flaring.

The owner of the hand pauses, then moves to fling us across the room, but my magic is quicker. The viper strikes, latching its fangs into the shadowed hand holding me captive. The second the fingers become lax, the owner crying out in agony, I whirl.

Coming face-to-face with a Phooka.

With a body of a man and the skull of a goat, its curved antlers are the thing to fear. The shock that collides with my body at seeing its milky white eyes evaporates the moment its unnaturally large hands grab for me again. I spin, narrowly avoiding the antlers from slicing my neck.

As I scramble away, more screams trail in from outside. It sounds like battle, like misery. My heart jumps a frantic beat, begging to help them, but a Phooka is not a creature to turn your back on. Nor are they one to underestimate.

Its jaw distends as if it were grinning. My canines flare with a low growl at the sight as I make my move.

With the daggers still strapped to my body from our earlier flight, I snatch one from my hip and lunge. I have no time to analyze how a blade appears in its hand too, courtesy of a lone shadow trailing up its arm. I swipe its exposed side, my blade singing with golden flames, only to meet the steel of its dagger. The Phooka matches me hit for hit.

Bellows explode from the study, furniture smashing into a thousand broken pieces. Knox and his court must be fighting too. But my panic doesn’t get a chance to take hold, not as the Phooka flies for my face again and I whirl to avoid the blade aiming for me.

Rising, I lift my free palm, a golden fireball dancing along my fingertips. My magic sings its praises at being used, its soft melodic voice urging me— commanding me—to use it. The Phooka pauses at the sight.

Something rips my head to the side and slaps a hand down on my wrists. My magic sputters and dies, and my blade drops to the ground. I cry out in shock, the Phooka tilting its head back with a menacing laugh. Another attacker stands behind me, reaching for my dragon pommel sword.

A sense of dread fills my blood and with a heavy dose of certainty, I know that if my assailants take me, I will never come back. With that knowledge, my magic swells, along with my fury.

Pushing off the balls of my feet, gritting my teeth, I put all my weight on the attacker behind me and kick out with a snarl. The Phooka in front of me, as cocky as ever, doesn’t see it coming. With a grunt, it goes flying across the room into the far stair banister, its head crashing with a sickening thud. Satisfaction hums through me as it slumps to the ground, its skull cracked and shattered, its bone fragments littering the marble tile floor.

The assailant at my back tightens their hold on my arms. “You’ll pay for that, you fucking golden bitch!”

Cocking my head to the side, I grow lax in its arms, my body no longer fighting. “I don’t think so.”

I feel him before I see him, my magic pausing its planned attack.

Darkness fills the room. Fury pulses in every curl of shadow, in every dark corner. A low vicious growl ricochets off the walls.

“Show yourself!” the demonic creature howls.

“Be careful what you wish for,” I sing, mockingly.

A large gust of wind smashes into the side of my face, forcing me to squint my eyes closed as a hot sticky substance splatters my clothes. Gurgling follows, and then the thing at my back crumbles.

Spinning, I find Knox standing amongst his shadows, covered head to toe in both black and red blood with a face so menacing it startles even myself. In this moment, Knox is a god of fury.

That is, until his gaze lands upon me, searching every inch.

Once he finds not a hair out of place, his chest deflates, his soul barging through the door in my mind and cradling me in a bone-crushing hug—between our souls and our physical bodies. He heaves, trying to calm himself. He runs his callused hands over the back of my head, holding it close. “Delilah,” he breathes.

The sound of boots thumping down the corridor has him whirling, positioning me behind him. Shadows explode into the room, concealing us from sight.

“Knox!” a familiar voice bellows.

My shoulders hitch at the emotion I haven’t heard in weeks. “Lenox?” I whisper in a thick voice.

The shadows evaporate as quickly as they arrived, revealing Lenox panting in the doorway. Seeing us brings a swell of relief across Lenox’s face.

“Quickly, they’re about to storm the estate!” he declares before spinning and taking off down the hall.

With a simple look, I hold up my hand and take off, calling over my shoulder, “We don’t have time for an argument, but even the gods themselves couldn’t keep me away, Knox, and you bloody well know that!”

* * *

Madness greets me as I run outside.

Darkness has descended upon Knox’s estate, leaving destruction in its wake. With one glance across the bloody grounds, I find Aurora and Zephlyn guarding Creseda and Henry by the stables as they fend off two demonic dragons. Anger surges through me.

I’m not letting him take another thing from me.

Unsheathing the dragon pommel sword strapped to my back, along with a larger blade on my thigh, I ignore Knox’s fretting at my back and go in swinging. My blades meet the necks and hearts of those who try to stop me. The hounds and Phookas that try to bury their disgusting claws in me.

Nothing and no one can distract me from my goal, especially as one large demonic dragon puffs up its chest and roars, spitting fire at Aurora and singeing her left leg.

Her cry has me seeing red. My vision tunnels into a focus so deadly I barely note how many drop around me. Or how many slash and strike at my own body. All I can feel is the pain barreling through the door of my and Aurora’s bond. The agony in her wail, the fury in Zephlyn’s deadly roar.

A surge of power rises within me, screaming to escape. I don’t deny its request this time—nor hold it back as the demonic dragon that burnt Aurora’s hind leg puffs up its chest once more.

It doesn’t have time to expel its fire, or even open its jaw, before my own explodes.

Golden light flies for everything around me as I run as fast as the wind toward the griffins. My magic no longer listens to my commands but takes control, encasing the dragon and setting it on fire from the inside out. Boiling its organs into nothing but a dark liquid.

It doesn’t let up even as it thrashes, or when it sways and falls to the ground, dead. I want it to burn. I want it to melt the moment it opens its eyes as it’s summoned to these lands once more. I want it to die at the hands of my power every time it dares to come back.

The fury that ignites within its companion’s dark red eyes has something akin to delight humming through my veins. It turns its focus away from the griffins and toward me. I can practically taste its desire for my blood from here.

I’m the golden one. I’m the one they want.

The dragon rears back on its haunches and pounces. With a ferocious snarl, I dive for it too, sliding along the bloody terrain to move in on its exposed underbelly. I plunge my dragon pommel sword deep and without reprieve. The blade glides with me along the floor, slicing it open from chest to bottom.

The roar it lets out is agonizing. Before I can even command it, golden flames rush for its open cavity, burning it from the inside out.

I can’t find the time to be annoyed, because right as I straighten, I’m encasing myself and the griffins in a golden protective bubble. Demonic creatures try but fail to penetrate the shield, bouncing off it like pesky bugs. Zephlyn pays them no mind either as he paces beside Aurora, his snout puffing hot air, panicked for the same reason as me.

We can’t lose anyone else.

I kneel beside her, running a shaking hand above her scorched skin. It’s horribly charred, third degree no doubt.

“Shhh,” I try to soothe. “I’ll make it all better, Aurora, I promise.”

Taking a steadying breath, I double the shield around us and then turn inward to the power thrumming through my body. Please listen to me , I beg.

Lifting both my hands, I hover them over her burnt skin, not taking offense as she flinches at the proximity. I take one measured breath before slowly blowing it out, envisioning healing blue light and relenting as my magic whispers to me and starts to flow.

The moment it touches her body, the bond between us grows taut with her screams. I’ve never heard such a sound from her before. It takes everything within me not to lose my concentration.

But ever so slowly, the pained whines turn into deep heaves of relief. Daring to open my eyes, I watch in awe as a new layer of skin finishes growing, muscle and tissues repairing, hair already blooming. I want to laugh and cry, I’m not sure which. It worked.

Withdrawing my hand, I drop one of the shields and meet her and Zephlyn’s eyes, both seething with rage and ready for a fight. “Let’s make them suffer. For everything,” I vow.