We spiral up the next stairwell, following the screaming and yelling, and jump into chaos. Slain headless vampires lay trampled on the ground, and blades flash throughout the hall as twelve Hunters take on the fifty dreamwalkers still standing.
Grace barrels past me and charges into the fray.
This woman.
I fire two bolts before reloading and strapping the crossbow to my back in favor of my blades. My form hardens and my mind hones, and I’m whirling through the hall, my speed untraceable as I slash through one neck and then another. I throw a blade in the air to free a hand and plunge a bolt from my belt into the heart of the vampire charging me from my right. Catching my blade, I swing at the moaning dreamwalker in front of me, taking its head clean off.
My movements are a blur as instinct and training take over. I stake the next on my left and punch another to my right, sending it stumbling before I rip wood from the flesh of the crumpling vampire and plunge it into the heart of the next.
My magic screams in alarm, gold curdling, and I whip around.
Master Hull is moving like he’s seen thirty fewer years, his magic pushing him to unnatural limits, and I watch him step in front of a sword aimed for Grace’s back. He takes the blade in his shoulder.
Grace spins, her face plastered with shock as the vampire lunges for her father. Before either of them can react, it sinks its fangs into Master’s neck.
Something dark and vicious pierces Grace’s eyes as she jams a bolt into the vampire’s back, and its fangs uproot from her father’s skin.
I slash through two vampires approaching me, fighting toward the other end of the hall to get to them. Eyes pinned on my family, I watch Master Hull shove the vampire off, and it flounders and tries to crawl away, but Grace strikes her sword down hard, severing its head.
“I’m fine!” Hull shouts and shoos Grace away, but she doesn’t leave his side, inspecting her father’s wounds.
Her jaw clenches, and I can see the worry in her eyes.
She’s not overreacting. I feel Master’s magic draining.
He’s notfine.
Grace unleashes her anger, jumping up to defend her father. She’s the embodiment of fury and love, blades slashing as she dances from one vampire to the next, her speed and dexterity mesmerizing, a bird flitting and swooping, uncatchable—and killing everything in its path.
I’ve never seen something so beautiful and brutal entwine in a single moment.
She’s trying to end this so we can tend to her father, and I join her.
We work each end of the hall, killing our way toward one another.
A vampire snaps to my side, and I take the hilt of its sword in my mouth before I can react. My head jolts back, and I touch my tongue to my tooth.
Chipped. Fantastic.
Slicing the offending vampire’s head off, I refocus down the hall toward Grace.
Dim candlelight dances, steel glints, and blood sprays as an evening storm brews outside, my magic sensing the shift in temperature against my skin as wind sweeps through an open window. Lightning strikes, and the hall illuminates, the red paint of death streaking walls and sloshing under boots. Hunters slash and stab, fierce painted warriors deliver death until only one dreamwalker remains. My stake pierces its heart as Grace rakes her gaze over me.
“We’re good at this,” she says before running for her father.
Obviously.
I chase after her, crouching beside Master Hull.
He’s not in good shape, and I need the heroics to end before we’re making another funeral procession to Mortifer.
“Time for you to leave,” I tell him.
He glares at me, slapping a cloth over his wound. “Tie my belt around it, Captain, and get me the fuck up.”
Unfortunately, the Hunter chain of command leaves only two people above me: Grace, and this stubborn man.
I whip his belt off and cinch it under his armpit. “Not much of a patch job,” I mutter.
