Page 109 of Loreblood

Blinding pain lanced my sides as blurs of iron-gray notched hits, ripping my tunic with fine cuts. I batted away more strikes than I took but it wasn’t enough. I was going to die, soon, trying to face off against two fullblooded vampires.

Behind me, a loud clatter, then a sizzle. Heat flared at my back. I glanced over my shoulder as I disengaged from the vampires and backpedaled—

Just as Garroway reached into his tunic and produced a clay pot. He had knocked over a pole-lantern from the side of the street, its torch flickering on the cobblestones.

“Back!” he shouted. I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or the vampires, so I tossed myself toward him, stumbling onto my side.

In one fluid motion, Garro slid his hand and the clay pot through the fire of the discarded torch on the ground. The fuse-tail at the end sparked, quickly running down toward the clay receptacle.

Garroway took my place in front, dashing forward.

The vampires’ red eyes bulged as he came at them with the explosive.

“Garro, no!” I screamed from the ground, sitting up.

He shouted, “Fuck.Off!”—

And tossed the firebomb at the two vampires.

The fullbloods scattered in opposite directions.

The firestorm was an inferno of white-hot heat and warm wind that seared toward me like a tidal wave. A billowing cloud of orange and blue exploded from the shattered pot, blinding me as I shielded my face with my palm and yelled into the eruption.

The vampires, Garroway, the street—it all disappeared in that blinding white inferno reaching up to the heavens. I’d never seen such a violent, visceral detonation.

When my eyes opened and my hand lowered, a black scar of ash and soot marred the cobblestones. Wooden barrels on the side of the road crackled with smoldering embers, breaking apart. A shop cart had exploded in a ruin of charred remains, and now flakes of ashen snow rained down on the road.

My eyes were saucers, my mouth dropped open. Shouting from nearby houses emerged, joining with wails of grief and shock.

The vampires were gone, either dead or escaped.

I crawled forward when I recognized a heap near the blast radius. It was a bundle of burned clothes and a dark cloak. Coughing through choking smoke, I got to the pile and flipped it. Garroway’s pale face stared up at me, blackened and bruised.

The eyes under his lids were roaming.

Fuck me True, he’s alive!My heart soared, slamming against my ribs.

I hauled Garro’s unconscious head onto my lap. “Shit.Shit.” People were emerging from their houses and hovels. My mind was fuzzy, my body ached. Far off in the distance, alarm bells rang out.

The Bronzes would be here soon. I didn’t want to be here to explain what just happened once they arrived.

I could have fled. Done the cowardly thing and gotten out, hidden away in one of the many dwellings of Nuhav I knew so well, and licked my wounds.

The idea never crossed my mind.

My eyes took in a group of advancing younglings, their parents shuffling behind them. Past one of the whelps, the father locked eyes with me.

He gave me a slight nod, his lips firmed.

I nodded back. A silent understanding passed between us two strangers.

Using every ounce of strength in my body, I hauled Garroway into my arms. A heaving bellow wrenched from my lips as I struggled to lift him due to my wounds and weakness.

Where do I take him?!

I staggered toward the father and his family.

Rattling armor and alarm bells pealed through the southern district. The Bronzes were getting closer.