We went down in a tangle of limbs.
But not before I saw Sylaira stretch out her hand and send the male in the cart blasting backward. He hit the wet ground with a solid thump.
I kicked the one off me and shoved to my feet. He scrambled upright, but I caught the back of his jerkin and brought my knee to his face. The crack from his nose breaking satisfied me in thesickest way.
With a groan, he crumpled. I drew my hand-forged sword and stabbed him through the heart.
“Shit, it’s the Issaraeth!” one attacker said. Because no one else in the Angel Realm needed a silver blade threaded with bronze. One part to kill Demons, the other to harm my own kith.
I whirled, finding the three from the forest skidding to a stop.
They must have gone around my barrier.
Which left me fighting five on one.
I’d had better odds. I’d also had worse.
Two cerulean-eyed males raced forward together. I ducked the first blow from a mace, whirling and slicing the back of his thighs. He went down, weapon tumbling away. But not before the second landed a kick in my lower back.
Pain exploded along my spine, but I gritted my teeth and followed through with the movement. Popping to my full height again, I flipped the pommel in my hand, indigo stone in the hilt flashing, and faced off with the second, trying to hide the hitch in my stride. He circled me, another comrade joining him. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the one Sylaira had rammed rising to his feet.
Finish this. End them now. Your mate breathes because you do. If you falter, she falls.
Thunder rumbled overhead. When lightning flashed, I burst into action, attacking the two at once. The first swung his sword, putting more power into the strike than necessary and leaving his weight off balance when I jumped out of reach. Twisting, I kicked his legs out from under him. Air whooshed from his lungs as he smacked the damp earth.
I stomped his face, bone breaking beneath my boot. The second strike caved in his skull and propelled me past him to the remaining fool.
The second one backstepped to dodge my attack, but I was ready for his retreat. With a flick of my blade, I slipped under his guard and dug it deep into his side. Dark red slick spilled out of his mouth as I yanked my sword free.
Sylaira shouted again, and I shot toward the wagon. Vaulting over the side, I landed directly behind the male slicing through the rope tying her in place.
My arm was around him a second later. I arched him backward, my height several inches above his, completely subduing him.
Sylaira’s eyes widened in horror.
Purple light struck a tree ahead of us, wood bursting to flame. Energy crackled across my skin as I dug a dagger into his throat.
“Guess you should have studied who you were robbing,” I crooned in his ear. And then, Iripped.
Ruby sprayed, staining my arms. Thunder crashed, drowning out the sound of his dead body hitting the ground. Let him bleed out on the road as a warning to all those who might dare attack me again.
The one holding the horse’s reins bolted.
But the need to fight, the need to protect, still roared inside me.
I whipped out a hand, white magic lassoing him. He smacked into the mud beside two of his dead comrades. I leaped from the wagon, stalking over to him.
He whimpered, and piss tainted the air.
The storm rumbled overhead as I gripped my dagger and sank to my knees.
“Please, have mercy,” he begged.
I laughed—a crazed, vicious sound that echoed in the space between raindrops. “Goddess, sanctify me with your grace. Let no doubt poison my heart. Let no mercy be given to thewicked.” The snippet of the traditional Angel prayer slipped out of me, threaded with mockery. “But there is no one more wicked than me. And I have never known mercy.”
With a harsh swipe, I slit his throat too. He gurgled, clutching at the tatters of his neck like his mortal hands could shield him from what I was.
An omen of death.
