A shadow passes over me as two more harpies cut across the sky. They’re heading for the rocks, too. They’re hideous things, with faces that vaguely resemble those of fae women, but the proportions aren’t right. Their eyes are too big, the color black within black. Their jowls are sunken, cheeks caved in. One opens its mouth to screech, revealing a maw of needle-sharp teeth.
I stare at the scaly legs descending into talons. They’re not quite bird feet, but a twisted semblance of faedom. The long, sinewy toes taper into sharp points, with sickle-shaped claws perfect for gripping. I turn my attention to its breast, covered in mottled, tattered feathers. Unprotected.
With a mighty heave, I swing the grappling hook back into the air. This time, it hits its target. The steel prongs make a squelch as they drive into the harpy’s chest. I grab the rope and pull.
The harpy gives a piercing cry but keeps flapping. Its companion looks down and cackles before descending to one of the rock formations. With a roar, I pull harder, dragging the harpy down toward the earth. A putrid odor washes over me as I yank the monster closer. It’s so strong, I can almost taste it,the smell of rot thick and cloying. Every desperate flap of her wings is redolent with the stink of carrion. Bile rises in my throat, but I fight it down.
With one last pull, the harpy is right above me. She grimaces, revealing sharp yellow teeth, chunks of rotten flesh poking out from between them. Patches of wiry hair sprout from her scalp in clumps matted with filth.
I lunge, grabbing hold of her ankles. She cries out and takes off into the air. My stomach loops as the ground drops away beneath us. Wind whips my face, stinging my eyes and stealing my breath, but I refuse to let go. Black blood drips over my face from the puncture wound in the harpy’s breast.
With each beat of her powerful wings, the harpy carries us higher and higher until we hover over the rock formations. Nausea roils through me. The rocks are each topped by a nest. They’re little more than crude piles of sticks and dried vegetation, but all heaped with festering carcasses and gnawed bones.
The harpy shrieks and starts thrashing above one of the nests. I let go, and don’t think. Not about the disgusting gushing sound my boots make as they land in the nest, not about the height. Not even about where Delphia and Eleanor are.
I act on instinct and by now, my instincts for killing are perfect.
There’s not enough room up here to get a hard enough swing with my sword, so I unsheathe one of Delphia’s instead. Her twin blades are small; this one is like a long knife in my hand. But it’s just what I need to slit the throat of the harpy, retrieve the grappling hook, and kick the creature over the edge.
My shoulders heave with my ragged breath as I scan the horizon. Three harpies leap up and down on the edge of a nest on one of the flat-topped rock spires in the distance.
I measure the length between the nest I’m on and the next closest one to the harpies: about ten feet. I clench my fists and roll my neck. Not much room in this nest for a running start, but it will have to do.
Rotten sinew and brittle bones crack beneath my feet as I run then leap. I land in the next nest with a thud, rolling over a half-eaten carcass of what might once have been a horse. Then I’m up and leaping to the next one before I give myself a chance to think.
With jump after jump, I cross the rock spires. As I approach,I see the girls huddled together, backs pressed to the edge of the nest as the three harpies surround them. The monstrosities screech and cackle, poking at the girls with their wingtips. Delphia grabs a bone from the nest and swings it wildly. One of the harpies shoots out a foot, grabbing the bone in its talons and cracking it. Delphia screams.
Eleanor buries her face into Delphia’s shoulder and raises her hands. A shower of sparks flies from her fingertips. An ember catches on one of the harpy’s feathers, and it begins leaping up and down, desperately trying to snuff it out with its fae-like maw. The other two harpies laugh hysterically.
Rage boils through me. I take each jump faster, more recklessly. With every beat of those monsters’ wings, my fury intensifies. Blood courses through my veins. Already, I can feel their wings snapping under my hands, feel the splatter of their blood as I make them pay.
With a primal roar, I charge forward, taking the very last jump and landing in their nest. The world around me blurs into a whirlwind of motion as I launch myself at the first harpy. Delphia’s blade cracks through the breastbone and I push harder until I feel the spurt of heart’s blood.
The second harpy screeches and bats its wings to get away, but I’m faster. I cut this one horizontally. A gush of foul innards spill from its belly before I kick it over the side.
The last harpy hovers protectively over her prey, attempting to shield the girls from my sight. One of her talons grips Delphia’s tunic and slices through the skin. A line of blood courses across Delphia’s collarbone.
Red floods my vision. I snag the harpy around the neck and pull her away from the girls. She beats at me with those dirty wings, but I wrestle the monster to the ground, pinning her beneath me. Her leathery skin cracks as she bites at my neck.
With a sound as animalistic as the harpy’s, I drive the blade down into her chest. Her neck. Her eyes. Her wings.
Black blood splatters over my face, but I don’t stop. I stab and stab and stab. This monster mustpay. The muscles of my arm scream, and I can barely get a breath in. My vision is red and black spots, but I don’t stop stabbing.
Finally, my blade hits rock. I take in a shaky breath. Thecreature below me is so mutilated, I’ve cut all the way to the bottom of the nest. My hand stills.
My hand and Delphia’s beautiful blade, modeled like her brother’s, are both pitch-black with monster blood. Sitting back on my heels, I try to regulate my breathing.
I blink the blood out of my eyes and turn to the side. The girls have their arms wrapped around each other. They’re shaking, their eyes wide and haunted.
They’re afraid.
Not of the harpies.
Of me.
I try to wipe the blood off my face, but there’s no part of me that’s unmarred. I can’t even clean Delphia’s blade. “Girls …”
A soft whinny sounds from the other side of the nest. It’s coming from beneath the body of the first harpy I killed. Grateful for any distraction from staring at the horrified looks the girls are giving me, I get up and walk over to the body. With a shove, I roll it off the edge.
