“Bring it, douchebags,” I say, and ball my fists.
The closest one comes at me, and I greet him with a punch to the side of his face. He staggers back, giving me just enough time to bring my knee up and hit him hard in the dick. I shove him to the ground and spin, kicking another in the chest. He falls back into the third, who pushes him over and lunges for me.
I try to move out of the way but can’t. He grabs me by my hair and yanks me back. I reach up and dig my nails into the flesh on his hands, madly trying to break his hold. He drags me back through the mud. I kick and thrash, doing everything in my power to get away.
The smell of sulfur gets stronger, and I know more of these things are coming for me. I throw my legs to the side, twisting my body over. My face presses into the damp ground as I’m dragged forward, and we go a few more feet before I’m able to yank one arm free. I grab his ankle and he trips. Several strands of my hair break and snap in his hand as he falls.
I scramble up, kick him hard in the ribs once, twice, three times before taking off. I sprint through the woods with no sense of direction. If I stopped and looked up, gave myself a minute to get a feel for the land, I’d be able to tell where I was going. But stopping to get my bearings would mean certain death.
I’ll come to a road or a clearing eventually. This nature park isn’t that big. And these things…these hillbilly psychos on bath salts…they won’t follow. I’ll come back prepared and I’ll—
Something hard collides with the back of my head. Pain radiates through me and I pitch forward, ears ringing. My vision is spotty and I desperately move forward, holding my hands out in front of me.
I smell him before I see him. The guy I bashed over the head with a rock stands before me, grinning and holding a rock in his hand. Nausea twists inside of me and I try to push through the pain. Something warm drips down my temple and I cannot get my vision to focus.
He raises his hand, drool running down his chin, and I flinch, bracing for the pain. Before he can bring his hand down, he’s yanked backwards into darkness. The rock falls to the forest floor with a dull thud. The bare branches above me shudder as if a thousand birds took flight.
Two of the creatures look at each other, confused. Then they run at me, buthegets there first.
Hasan comes from the sky, landing right in front of me. His large wings are open, acting as a shield. I can’t see what’s going on, but I can hear the carnage. Reaching up to my head, I carefully feel the wound. It’s bleeding like crazy but doesn’t feel deep. It’ll sting for a good while, that’s for sure, and I’m already pissed about the little bald spot this is going to create. I don’t think I need stitches, but there’s a chance I have a concussion.
“Acelina.” Jacques’s voice rings out in the dark. His feet hit the earth and he folds his wings in, coming for me, holding out a hand. I shouldn’t trust him. I don’t know him. I don’t understand what he is. For all I know, he could have sent these creatures after me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Hasan lift one of them off the ground and snap its neck, twisting until he rips the head clean off. He tosses it down and lurches forward, half running, half flying. Thomas and Gilbert aren’t far, and I see flashes of their wings and claws through the trees. They’re fighting the creatures.
Killing them with ease.
They can do the same to me.
“Ace,” Jacques repeats, and I snap my attention back to him. I only have half a second to make a decision to trust him or not. I’m soaking wet—again—and bleeding from my head. I can’t keep sitting here on the forest ground if I want to live. Especially not when those things keep coming.
I take his hand. He pulls me to my feet, then wraps his arms around me, bringing me to his chest. His flesh is warm like mine but rough, almost calloused. I guess that’s what happens when you spend a thousand years sitting out in the elements. Gently, he presses his hand to the wound on my head, trying to stop the bleeding.
“You’re shivering again.”
“Yeah,” I say through chattering teeth. “It’s still cold and I fell in a creek.”
“Why did you do that?”
I narrow my eyes, not liking being patronized. If I wasn’t so fucking cold, I’d push him away. “I didn’t do it on purpose. I was trying to get away from those…those things.”
“Vampires.”
“Excuse me?”
“Those things. They’re vampires.” He looks down at me. “I’m guessing you’re not familiar with vampires, either.”
“Not in this sense.”
Jacques brings his hand back, wiping the blood on his pants. I push away, looking around him, and see Hasan grab the remaining vampire, lifting him one-handed by the neck. He looks more like a Greek god than a monster right now, with flexing muscles and powerful wings. Blood’s spattered across his face, and his dark eyes are set.
He says something to the vampire, speaking an ancient language I don’t understand. The vampire responds with hisses, madly swinging his arms at Hasan. With a frown, Hasan grabs his head and twists.
Thomas and Gilbert appear from the trees, both smiling.
“That was fun,” Gilbert says.
“Too easy, though.” Thomas pushes his golden locks behind his ear. “I thought there’d be more.”
