Page 21 of Wings of Lies (Daughter of the Seven Circles #1)

Cacus and Bael hissed at the next hit, lumbering toward the back doors, nearly crushing my body as I rolled out of the way. Our hasty speed abruptly stopped as the whole carriage skidded to the side. Yips and throaty growls drowned out the horse’s whinnies.

“Go! Get out of here!” Brock yelled.

A loud, throaty squeal punctured the increased yips until it stopped, along with my heart.

We were stuck.

They slammed into us again and again, rocking the carriage but unable to tip us with Cacus and Bael distributing their hulking weight. A slam splintered the wood near my princely jailor’s face. Their growls became louder. Almost as if they were excited by the wreckage.

Was no one going to answer me?

“What the hell is attacking us? Wolves?”

The growls quieted for a moment, followed by the clang of metal and grunts.

The prince cursed, lunging for me just before the next hit.

His arm wrapped around my waist, hauling me to the center, away from the shuddering walls.

He pressed my back tightly against his chest, refusing to let me move.

The pounding of his heart hammered into my spine, quickening my own.

With his free hand, he reached for the pommel of his sword, unleashing a long blade with scrolling blue symbols lit up with the flame that wreathed his eyes. Heat pulsed off the fiery waves, scalding my exposed skin. I shrank back into the prince, unable to escape his vice-like grip.

“Hellhounds,” he finally replied.

Cacus and Bael snickered like they enjoyed that fact. I couldn’t say I was surprised. They seemed both dimwitted and gruesome enough to enjoy our possible demise.

The growls and slams died down while the clanking metal increased. He released me, giving my flushed skin sweet relief.

“We need to leave this carriage and help Brock.”

“Wait, what?” This carriage was the only thing separating us.

“Is that our only option?” Brock could rot in hell for all I cared.

I wasn’t going out there. I didn’t know how to fight.

I didn’t even have a weapon. Not to mention, my powers were currently out of commission.

I’d been zapped so many times I assumed only an immense amount of fear or anger would get them going, and even then, the damned cuffs prevented that !

My jailor scrutinized me, jaw muscles pulsing. “This carriage will be splinters of wood if we don’t leave it. They don’t eat animal meat. They killed our horses to prevent us from moving.”

The wooden carriage abruptly rocked. I fell into him. His fingers dug into the sleeves of my shoulders.

“They feed off fresh angel blood, so they won’t stop. And Brock is alone out there.”

“I don’t care!”

He placed me behind him, turning his pissed-off fiery eyes on the black and red runed backs of Cacus and Bael.

“Take off my cuffs,” I demanded, palms sweaty.

He shot me a glare. “No.” Then yelled, “Now!”

Cacus and Bael pushed open the splintering doors, jumping out one after the other. Their feet pounded the ground with their weight. The prince landed softly behind them, sword raised and ready. I refused to move from my spot.

“Cacus, go help Brock,” he commanded.

One of the black beasts lumbered away toward the sound of a fight at the front of the carriage. And despite wanting nothing to do with the beasts, I wished Cacus would stay.

I crumpled to the planks.

Skeletal hounds surrounded us. Shadows undulated around their bones, like a messed-up kind of fur. Although, that did nothing to soothe the thoughts of death as their chests were at the same level as the ledge of the carriage.

“Get out,” he demanded, giving me a quick, narrowed glance before returning his attention to the skeletal death hounds.

“Take off my cuffs,” I begged, scooting closer, holding them out. So what if I looked pathetic or weak ?

Fleshless bony heads snapped their jaws. They bayed and licked two-inch-long fangs, staring with blood-colored eyes. My bladder threatened to give out at their piercing sounds and did, just a little, as they prowled toward us.

“No.”

“Aspen, please!”

He flinched like I’d hit him. I never used his name, never wanted to. It was different with Brock. His name sounded like an insult. But Aspen… Damn it. I liked his name. And I didn’t want to like anything about him. But right now, I’d try anything.

“Get the fuck out of the carriage!” he seethed.

“No!”

He backpedaled to the ledge, attention on the snarling smokey beasts inching their way nearer, reached back and latched onto my ankle.

Stunned by the soft buzz of energy tickling my skin, I didn’t fight back as he dragged me.

I was about to slam into the ground when, at the last second, he picked me up and set me down.

What was that? Not that odd change of behavior, but the vibrations from his hand? I shot him a look, but he pushed forward to Bael, ignoring me.

I didn’t think we stood a chance with only three of us, practically two and a half, against five hulking beasts.

White puffs of steam diffused from the Hellhound’s nostrils, clouding the area and infusing the air with a rotten egg smell. Their shadowed fur faded to light gray, indiscernible against the trees.

Scratch that. They didn’t stand a chance. There was no we , as I scrambled underneath the carriage, hands jangling against my pelvis. Millions of needles probed my skin, answering the call of the pressure squeezing my chest .

The prince’s attention flickered to my retreat. “If you run, they will kill you.”

Exactly why I was hiding, not running.

“Take off my cuffs, Aspen.” I inhaled and added, “Please.” Hoping he understood how much that cost me. A cordial please to my careless jailor who didn’t deserve any civility from me. But my Glory climbed, stabbing me, and in a matter of seconds, I’d be a writhing, debilitated snack—easy eating.

I needed his help. I really needed to keep breathing.

He stared me dead in the eye and shook his head. “Stay there.” Then he charged into the steam with his sword raised, Bael following with his pounding strides until they were both faint blobs of color.

Defenseless, I squirmed further back. Shadows flashed through the white clouds, snarling and yipping. At times, a blur of blue followed, but only the clang of metal proved the prince had made contact.

I flinched with every sound, with every flash, Glory stealing my strength as I lay belly down between the two wheels of the carriage.

It was coming. I only knew that because I could grind into the skin of my cheeks, nearly biting through, and no longer feel it.

One minute. Two. I shoved my mouth into the corner of my elbow, and it peaked.

I muffled my scream as a jolt of electricity seared into my body, sending me to darkness.

You have no one to blame but yourself.

Don’t be a wimp. Come here.

Stay here. Stay safe.

Escape your cage.

Fight it!

I’m sorry, Lucy .

There once was a daughter of ? —

Hushed clanking woke me from the cacophony of voices. Blinking, I twisted my head, finding a battlefield void of steam with added bodies and chaos.

My eyes latched onto the prince. He arched his flaming sword up and down, slicing, stabbing, and twisting into two Hellhounds.

Every slice created a charred line that partially disintegrated bone, deterring them from the sword but not stopping them from attacking.

On his other side, Brock swung a flameless sword at a different set of hounds, chipping away at bone with little impact, which had to be why they fought him with more brutality than the ones that hesitated against the prince.

Good. Hopefully, the repulsive man got what was coming to him.

To the side of Brock fought Cacus and Bael.

And they were— Snickering at their Hellhounds?

Yes, snickering. Dimwitted beasts. But the Hellhounds seemed to keep their distance, jetting around them in circles and never engaging.

It was almost like Cacus and Bael had some plague.

Still didn’t stop them from swiping and kicking the Hellhounds, laughing the entire time.

A red light flashed in my periphery. Glancing back at the prince, I scooted farther away from the Hellhounds now spewing red flames from their nostrils. Wasn’t the damned cloud of steam enough?

They shot at the prince’s head. He ducked, swinging up as he stood, and cleaved through the skull of another. The head charred in half, dead. He was on to the next, dancing with death and the hounds of shadows. Transfixed, I watched in horror and awe.

He whirled, twisted, and slashed, never slowing, never hesitating.

When he used all his momentum to slide under his last hound, eviscerating its underbelly and rolling to his feet right as it slumped, I couldn’t help but be impressed.

He sprinted over to Brock. Who struggled with a sword that was equivalent to a dull steak knife.

Brock swung wildly at a hound licking a glistening red off its claws. Based on the blood bleeding into his cloak, it had to come from Brock. Bit by bit, he carved into the Hellhound’s neck, and despite the fact he was carving through, the hound only dodged, too fixated on the blood.

My eyes widened as another Hellhound, the largest in the pack, left Cacus and Bael in favor of Brock. Head bowed low, saliva oozing down its canines, it crept up behind him. Six feet, five feet, four feet...

He was about to die, and nothing pleased me more.

Days of his abuse, and I hoped the hound slaughtered him in the most gruesome of ways.

But before the hound attacked, the prince intervened with his flaming sword.

Two inches away from cutting into its side, the hound twisted, snapping its jaw around the blade, teeth disintegrating.

It didn’t whine or whimper. No, the Hellhound yanked the blade from the prince’s hands, flung the sword to the edge of the trees, and circled him.

Weaponless, reevaluating his position, he fisted his hands before his face.

Was he going to box with the Hellhound?