My left wing sticks, halts, then makes a shrieking sound as it rips?—
Fuck!
The feather rammed through my left shoulder must be preventing it from extending.
In a rush of panic, I retract both wings, folding them away again, sensing my left wing tearing even further as it disappears.
Oh, damn.
My gasp of pain is drowned by thethumpof Taiven’s fist on Lucian’s face. A cut opens above the younger angel’s eye, but he doesn’t go down. His focus is still on me, although only with his uninjured eye.
He must have seen my wings extend and retract because his focus moves briefly to the feather in my shoulder. I’m sure he will have understood why I can’t try to use my wings after all.
He returns his attention to our father. “Do it!” Lucian screams. “Kill me! If you get what you want, you’ll have nochildren left. Nobody to challenge you. But there’ll be plenty of supernaturals who’ll come after you now that Vanguard isn’t standing at your si?—”
Smack.
Lucian falls silent, his head lolling.
I catch sight of the burn across his face before our father drops him to the floor, where he ends up crumpled forward over his knees. Lucian’s uninjured wing drapes across his back and side while the broken one stretches out across the floor.
Now that Lucian’s unconscious, I assume Taiven will come back to finish me off, but he remains standing over his son.
The light glimmering around his fists grows brighter.
“I will finish you now, boy,” he spits. “Just as you wish.”
Oh, no, you fucking won’t.
As quietly as I can, I push away from the wall, desperately trying to get my balance by bending the knee of my good leg a little. I don’t look at my bad leg, conscious only that it’s a big problem and will probably be my downfall.
If I’m going to die, I’ll do it with a tiny bit of honor, trying to protect my little brother.
I may be a dark creature with fucking ugly wings, and I may have no right to exist, but I have rules.
Number one: Some bonds are worth dying for.
Like my bond with Anarchy.
She was family to me, and she died to protect me.
Hot tears burn my good eye, but my anger gives me strength.
I manage a painful but not terribly quiet hop and my lips draw back from my teeth in a grin at my success.
Hop, bunny rabbit, hop.
Taiven seems too busy focusing on the light magic growing in his palms to pay any attention to me.
Which is a shame, because holy fuck, I must be a sight right now.
I make it two more hops while his power increases until it’s so bright that large specks form in my vision.
The specks expand and then I’m fighting to see anything at all, since my good eye seems to be failing.
Not now!
A soft haze falls across my sight like a gentle mist, swirling in ribbons all the way to the floor.
