This spell, this vulnerability, had been one of my worst fears since I escaped that fucking cult.
And I’d prepared for it the best way I could.
Tan had helped.
The spell kept my limbs and torso from moving, but it’d never sealed my lips shut or stopped me from moving my head or tongue—most of them had enjoyed hearing my screams.
Swallowing thickly, I moved my tongue until my tongue piercing was between my teeth, and I bit down on the small gem on the end.
People thought I loved jewelry and pretty things, that I was a little vain, and while I did enjoy them, that wasn’t why I always wore so many pieces.
This was why.
Each and every piece of jewelry I had, every piercing, every bracelet, every necklace, all of them held magic.
Because I would never become a victim of a blood witch again.
Another surge of magic, this one welcomed, rushed over me. Tan’s essence soothed me and gave me the courage to fight back as his spell broke the hold the blood witch had on me.
The second I could move again, I reached into the front seat to grab my and Roman’s swords. We took them everywhere withus, but we hadn’t wanted to scare people in the mall, so we’d left them in the car.
Next time, we’d have to risk scaring people, I guessed.
We couldn’t be caught off guard like this ever again.
Master Calarel Kelhorn was shocked when I climbed out of the car.
Good. Take that, asshole.I have more tricks up my sleeve than you can imagine.
Roman was still fighting the machete guy and doing a valiant job of it with only his shifted claws, somehow avoiding being chopped up by the giant knife.
“Rome!” I yelled and threw his sword to him without waiting for him to respond. I knew he’d see it coming.
As suspected, he caught it without issue, unsheathed it, and parried the next blow in a move so smooth it looked choreographed. That cult member wouldn’t last more than three seconds now that Roman was armed. He could’ve simply shifted and stomped on the guy, but again, we were surrounded by civilians, and neither of us wanted anyone else getting hurt.
The closest cultist already had his sword out, so I unsheathed mine and went into attack mode. No way was I letting anything happen to Roman or any of the bystanders, so I needed to take these assholes down. Now.
With a roar, I lunged for the cultist, knocking his sword to the side and punching him in the kidney. The man grunted but came at me with another swing of the sword. I ducked, making his swing go high so I could slice at his other side.
He was wearing dragonscale armor, including a bevor—a piece of armor that protects the neck, throat, and chin. It was unfortunate that I couldn’t simply behead the guy.
His armor was strong as hell, but my sword was also made of dragonscale, and I had one thing these people didn’t—a witch, agoodwitch, stepfather who’d done extensive spell work on my,Rome, and Dad’s swords and armor. I couldn’t go through this cultist’s armor easily, nothing could, but I would get through after a few swipes. And that was something these assholes wouldn’t expect.
So I let the man come at me again, and I swiped the same spot, weakening his armor there. He probably didn’t even notice that something was wrong yet.
Another cultist jumped into the fray, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roman fighting off two. The blood witch and the last man hadn’t jumped in yet, but I knew they would any second. We were already outnumbered, and these guys knew how to fight.
I should know since they trained me.
This wasn’t going to be easy, and I needed to hurry.
With one hand, I parried the newcomer’s strike and reached into my pocket for a vial. I had so many different things on me that I didn’t even care what I grabbed. Anything would work to keep one guy back for even a few seconds.
I threw the vial at the cultist’s feet and turned with my sword arm up, catching the first guy’s sword on mine. I gave it a push with a roar, and the man stumbled back a few steps. He was strong for a human, probably from a strength spell, but he was nothing in the face of a pissed-off dragon.
The vial had contained a gas that surrounded the cultist, quick as a flash, and hardened into a sort of silvery orb, like a cocoon. He banged on the sides, but they were hard and wouldn’t be broken until I broke it since it’d been my tonic.
Perfect. One was out of commission, and we could question him later.
