Page 77 of Grave Consequences
“I just told it what to do in my head,” he answers with a shrug, like it’s as easy as that.
I huff out a sigh and look out at where my scythe-spear is now sticking out of the mausoleum roof. Walking stick, broomstick, spear...that thing is seriously versatile. I just need it to work with me.
“Come,”I call to it, holding my palm up expectantly.
Nothing happens.
“Come on, don’t make me look bad! Heel!”I tell it in my best alpha bitch commanding voice.
Still nothing. It just stands there proudly, straight blade stuck into the pile of ash on the rooftop like it’s claiming territory.
I huff out an exasperated breath.
Nefta’s voice pops up in my mind.“Have you named her yet?”
I don’t let myself debate the merits of naming the weapon, I just decide to go with the first thing that pops in my head. It probably won’t work anyway. I think my scythe likes me nice and annoyed.
“Queen of Hearts, get your ass back down here!” I order it.
And what the fuck do you know...the scythe disappears from the roof of the mausoleum and reappears in my hand less than a millisecond later.
Well, shit.Looks like this little lady just got a name.
I beam at it, feeling a part of my heritage snapping into place. “Come on,” I tell the guys, and the five of us rush forward, but most of the demons are either dead or running. They heard the gargoyle’s signal, and the mass that was still pushing to surround the Ophidian protectively are now racing toward the mausoleum to escape through the portal.
“Jerif, with me. We’ll head them off!” Iceman calls, and he and Jerif race toward the mausoleum, ready to cut down the demons who are daring to run away with their tails between their legs. The last thing we want is to let them go to regroup and attack again.
Echo, Crux, and I continue making our way to where Nefta and Taz are fighting Morax. As soon as we get closer, I can make out the three dark silhouettes, made easier by the fact that night is waning.
Nefta has a long, bloody gash in her thigh, making her limp, and Taz is holding one short sword now with his left hand, while his right hangs strangely, like his shoulder has been popped out of joint. The three of them are a blur of movement as they attack, then move away from each other, readying to parry again.
Every time Nefta and Taz try to get Morax stuck between them, the slippery medusa demon moves away or attacks, forcing them to both face him head-on again. With a ruthless swing of his sword, he tries to take off Taz’s head, which Pride barely is able to stop from happening by a quick side step, forcing Nefta to jump out of his way before he bowls her over.
Morax takes advantage of her split-second unsteady stance. He moves in, but instead of him trying to attack her, grabs her by the face and presses his lips to hers.
She’s so stunned for a moment that she doesn’t move, which I’m sure is exactly what he was counting on. As soon as she gets her wits about her, she brings up her sword with fire in her eyes, but the fucker dodges her with a graceful spin that I’m surprised he’s capable of.
Nefta is fit to be tied as she spits at the ground, like his kiss offended and disgusted her. “You’ll pay for that,” she declares, vengeance dripping from her tone.
“Come now, Nefta. You always liked playing Seven Minutes in Hell with me when we were younger,” he says with a wicked grin, his teeth flashing in the lightening sky.
“AHH!” She warrior cries toward him, but it seems he was expecting her to lash out in anger, because he’s ready for it. With a precise, aimed kick at her middle, he sends her shooting back, where she lands against a tree, the force of it cracking the trunk on impact. She crumples to the ground and doesn’t get back up.
Taz tries to rush him, but once again Morax deflects the sword and renews his defense and attack. Without another moment of hesitation, I skirt around the edges of their mock-fighting ring, careful to keep my steps even and quiet. I’m going to scythe this bastard, once and for all.
“We’ve got your back,” Crux says quietly as he and Echo follow behind me.
The moment Morax’s back is turned, I close the distance.
Let’s try this again!
I lift my scythe and swing like it’s a Louisville Slugger. Morax spins, catching the wood in his grip, and my momentum is suddenly cut off as he presses his own blade against my chest, aimed right at my heart. I freeze as do the guys behind me...but so does Morax.
Because Taz is holding a blade to his throat.
“Drop it,” Taz snarls, and to my surprise, Morax actually does.
The blade falls to the ground with a thud, and Echo immediately kicks it away, out of reach.
