Page 103 of The Primal of Blood and Bone (Blood and Ash #6)

POPPY

The little girl jerked up, her bloodied fingers grasping Malik’s arm.

Malik lurched back. “What the—?”

Her mouth stretched wide, and her head snapped down, her teeth tearing through cloth and sinking into flesh.

“Fuck,” Malik snarled, falling back, the scent of blood hitting the air.

The girl had latched on like some feral animal. Casteel shot forward, grasped the back of the girl’s dress, and pulled, dragging both the girl and Malik.

“Fucking gods,” Malik hissed. “She’s not letting go.”

Naill lurched forward, grasping the girl’s cheeks. He dug his fingers into the joints of her jaw. His wide gaze swung up to meet Casteel’s. “It’s not working.”

“Yeah,” Malik bit out. “I can tell.”

“This may hurt,” Casteel said. That was his only warning. He jerked his arm back with the strength of…a Deminyen Primal.

Malik’s shout of pain got lost in the girl’s snarl as Casteel tore her free. He twisted at the waist and flung her across the chamber. She slammed into the wall with a sickening crack. I winced as she fell forward, landing face-first against the floor.

“That poor girl,” I whispered.

“Poor girl?” Malik scrambled to his feet. “I think she took a chunk of flesh—”

The girl stood, bones cracking as she did, her upper body out of alignment with her hips. Horrified, I stared as she…chewed.

“I think she did,” Kieran drawled as Malik cradled his arm to his chest. “And she’s currently eating it.”

She was.

She totally was.

“I think I might vomit,” I whispered.

The girl swallowed.

My stomach churned.

Her neck crackled as she turned her head toward Perry.

With a guttural sound somewhere between a growl and a hiss, she rushed forward.

Naill darted past Perry, snagging the girl around the waist. She went wild, kicking and snapping her teeth at the air. He grabbed her by the chin. “I’m sorry.” He twisted.

I looked away at the snap and inhaled deeply.

Naill lowered the now still body to the floor, his jaw flexing.

“ Grul ,” Kieran muttered.

“Excuse me?” Malik breathed. Casteel grabbed his arm, and Malik winced as his brother peeled back the torn cloth.

“You’re not talking about…” Casteel swore as he bared Malik’s forearm. There was definitely some flesh missing. “They were just an old wives’ tale. Like the lamaea .”

“The lamaea aren’t an old wives’ tale,” I said, shuddering. I would have to be disturbed by that realization later. “And neither…” I swallowed thickly, looking at the piece of torn flesh dangling from Malik’s arm. “Neither are gruls .”

“Poppy?” Casteel said, tearing off a piece of his cloak.

“Yeah?”

“Stop staring at his arm.”

“Yeah.” Blinking, I looked away.

“Can someone fill me in?” Malik asked, his voice tight.

“They’re corpses,” Kieran said.

“No shit,” Malik retorted. I peeked and saw that Casteel had wrapped his arm.

“ Reanimated corpses,” he continued, his lip curling. “They’re like Craven and a type of Gyrm. Not the kind conjured by magic—”

“But made by a god,” I finished, remembering the smooth, featureless faces of the other Gyrms.

Kieran nodded. “Gyrms created by gods are usually created for a purpose—to fight, hunt, or serve. But gruls …”

I inhaled sharply, for once wishing the vadentia had stayed silent. “They’re used in the Abyss to feast on the flesh.”

“Spiritual flesh,” Kieran corrected. “But, yeah.”

I looked at him. “Thanks for the unnecessary clarification—”

Shouts erupted from outside, drawing my attention to the door.

Casteel turned. “How many did you notice this happening to?”

“This was the first house I saw it in,” Perry said, reaching for the short sword attached to his back. “So, they’re killed like Gyrms?”

“Sever the spinal cord or destroy the brain,” Kieran answered.

The father jerked up, reaching for the person closest to him.

“Kieran,” I shouted, snapping forward. I reached inside the folds of the cloak for my dagger—

The tip of a bloodstone sword erupted from the man’s face, spraying oily black blood that smelled of stale lilacs.

Dropping the father, I watched as Casteel withdrew his sword. “I had it covered,” I grumbled.

Casteel winked. “I know.” He turned to the mother, driving his sword through the center of her head.

A pain-filled shout echoed from outside, spinning me around.

“Shit.” Naill unhooked a short sword as he stalked forward. “I’m willing to bet everyone is letting themselves get chomped on like Malik—”

“Fuck you,” Malik ground out.

“—because they don’t realize what they’re dealing with.”

“Fuck you again,” Malik muttered as Naill raced into the hall.

Casteel frowned at his brother.

“Is it possible not all will turn?” Perry asked.

“It’s too much of a risk,” Casteel said. I hated to admit it, but I agreed. “Kieran, get my brother back to Wayfair.”

Kieran and I stiffened.

“And make sure the generals and commanders are aware of this,” he instructed. “We have no idea if there are more like this out there who just haven’t been found.”

My stomach sank. I hadn’t even thought of that. Thank gods Casteel had. It made sense to send Malik back since he was still bleeding like a stuck barrat, but Casteel could’ve sent Naill or any of the other guards with him.

That’s what he would’ve usually done.

“Here.” Kieran tossed me one of his bloodstone swords, his expression locked down. “You won’t have to get too close since they are…bitey.”

“Thank you.” The lightweight sword and the feel of the smooth metal against my palm felt good. I glanced at Malik. “You could try fixing,” I said to Kieran, pointing the sword at Malik’s arm, “that.”

Interest sparked. “True.”

“Let’s get this done.” Casteel stalked past Kieran, then stopped. “Be quick and careful.”

Kieran nodded, then motioned at Malik. “Come on.”

My gaze swung to Casteel as what Malik had said to me returned like a quiet but undeniable whisper. Knowing this wasn’t the time to question Casteel, I firmed my grip on the sword. We quickly made our way to the entrance and…

Walked into chaos.

“Oh, my,” I murmured.

The air was filled with the sickening sounds of ragged growls, thin hisses, and the savage clack of snapping teeth as a child raced past us, leaping to land on a guard’s back.

A man with a gaping wound across his throat sprinted out of the house down the street while several ran toward a group of stunned guards.

Others darted in every direction, their bare feet slapping off cobblestones.

“Destroy the brain!” Naill shouted from our left, his sword dripping dark blood as a woman fell forward. Others darted in different directions as Emil stumbled out of the house next to us, blood dripping from his hand.

“Emil,” Casteel barked. “You good?”

The Elemental turned to us, his face as pale as a white shroud. “I just…” He swallowed. “It was a child,” he said, his voice hoarse. A pang of sorrow pierced my heart. “He bit me, and I…I had to.”

“You did nothing wrong,” Casteel was quick to say.

A woman rushed out of the shadows, the front of her cotton sleeping gown stained with dried blood.

I moved forward as Casteel grasped Emil by the shoulder.

The snarling woman didn’t even seem to see me until I was right in front of her, but I saw her .

She was young, possibly only in her second decade of life.

A curtain of tight braids slapped against her cheeks as she jerked back, her head cocking.

Something seemed to move inside her milky-white eyes right before I drove the sword through her chin.

“Sorry,” I whispered just as Naill had done, wincing as I lowered her to the ground.

A blur of white whipped my head to the right as Delano leapt from the shadows, his large paws slamming onto the back of a man rushing toward me.

His powerful jaws clamped down on the man’s throat.

Delano snapped the grul’s neck with one quick twist of his head.

I inhaled deeply and quickly looked away.

“Poppy.” Casteel caught my arm as I moved forward. “Remember. They are no longer mortal. These are just their bodies. The sooner we put them down, the sooner their souls can be released.”

I took a shallow breath and nodded.

His eyes searched mine for a moment before he said, “I bet I can take out more than you.”

The guard with the child on his back finally grabbed him and twisted, throwing the boy off. “You want to make a game out of this?”

One side of Casteel’s lips curved up, and his dimple appeared.

“You’re so disturbed,” I muttered, looking away. “And you will not get as many as me.”

Casteel chuckled. “We’ll see.”

He snapped to the side, catching a woman—no, a grul —from behind, driving his sword through the base of her skull. “That’s one,” he said as he laid her down. “Or two if you count the one in the house.”

“I already had one,” I retorted, my gaze flickering around. Three shambled up the darkened sidewalk several feet apart.

Walking toward them, I shut my thoughts down and let instinct take over as the closest one noticed me.

The low-pitched hiss sent a wave of tiny bumps rising on my skin as I closed the distance between us.

I didn’t allow myself to look at the grul’s face.

It was easier that way. I thrust the sword up, cutting off the sound with a wet give of tendon and tissue.

Pulling the blade free, I looked over my shoulder.

My robe spun around my ankles as I whirled, bringing the sword up.

The second grul reached for me, and my blade pierced the base of its skull.

Leaning to the side, I kicked out, knocking another grul back before laying the one I’d just killed down, doing my best not to notice the paper-thin skin.

As I shot forward, I shoved the sword under the third one’s chin.

As I lowered it, a ragged shout snapped my head to the side. A grul had a guard on his knees, its mouth inches from the guard’s already bloody throat.

Sprinting across the narrow street, I drove my sword through the back of the grul’s …small head.