Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 141492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Again, she found nothing else to alert her. Taking a breath, she wasted no more time and went on the attack. She knew it was the last thing Bumbus would expect. She used her speed and the energy of the vampire to thrust the sword deep into his chest, straight into the heart, triggering a blast of white-hot fire to incinerate it on contact.
Bumbus shrieked and ripped his talons down her arm, tearing through her flesh to the bone as she withdrew the sword and plunged it into his chest a second time. Her aim had been good on the positioning of a normal heart, but his was askew, and she’d only managed to burn part of it.
He clawed at her throat, bending his head to bite into her shoulder with savage teeth. She had seen the same thing happen dozens of times to hunters fighting battles, but nothing could prepare her for the shocking pain of the acid blood burning through her flesh to the bone or the tear of those cruel serrated teeth biting through muscle to get to her blood.
Still, she was Safia Meziane, the defender of her people, keeper and guardian of Petru’s soul. She would not be less than Petru. Stoically, she endured the pain as she used the vampire’s momentum against him, thrusting the sword through his chest once again and twisting so that every part of the fiery blade incinerated what was left of the heart.
Bumbus stared at her with his soulless eyes, his mouth gaping open in horror. His body slowly crumpled to the ground as the flames began to lick at his rotted flesh from the inside out. Safia stumbled back to the consecrated circle and sank onto one of the flatter rocks, breathing deeply to keep from passing out.
She had known there was a huge possibility that she would be injured, but in her wildest dreams, she had never imagined the pain would be anything like it was. She pulled out her emergency kit and continued to breathe deep as she once more drew her crystal sword. It was the only weapon she had against the parasites she knew the vampire had injected into her bloodstream when he had bitten her.
Her stomach lurched as she tipped her head to one side and held the blade of light against the torn flesh. At once, white dots began to spin behind her eyes. She knew she was going to faint. There was no way she could hang on.
Aura. I’m in trouble. I destroyed Bumbus, but he tore me up, and I’m not able to stay conscious. I’m crashing.
She slid off the rock and landed on the ground. Fortunately, it was soft dirt. Her stomach lurched again at the jarring. Her arm was useless where the acid had torn through her flesh. She could see the white of her bone. How did the hunters endure such pain and keep going? She had the will, but her body refused to continue functioning.
No, no, you must stay alert. I can’t get to you yet. There was genuine alarm in Aura’s voice. She will know you’re injured. They will send everything they can to kill you. If they can kill you, they will win before the war even starts.
How was she supposed to stay on her feet when she could barely lift her head up? She took a breath, forced air through her lungs and took another one. Tried to shut out the pain. Once more, she did her best to let her senses reach out into the night to ensure she was alone in that fog-enshrouded, consecrated circle.
Safia’s heart jerked hard. Not only was she not alone, but she was surrounded by silent predators. She had no idea exactly where they were; she just knew they were close and creeping closer. Determinedly, she pressed her palm to the flat surface of the rock and tried to lever herself up. She needed to be on her feet. She didn’t make it the first time. She felt their eyes on her and found that gave her added resolve to push to her feet. She couldn’t use one arm, and it hung uselessly at her side, but her good hand gripped her sword. She had the presence of mind to stay solidly within the consecrated ground, where demons and vampires could not enter.
As soon as she stood, a figure strode out of the fog. At first, it was almost impossible to make him out. He blended with the blues and grays, his long gray coat falling nearly to his ankles and swirling around his body. He moved as fluidly as the fog itself, as if he were a part of the night. His eyes were glacier cold, a kind of piercing silver, turbulent like the lightning forking in the bottom of the low-hanging clouds. His hair was platinum and silver, thick and pulled back from his very masculine face. This was not the face of a boy. Every line was carved deep. Those eyes slid over her, taking in everything, seeing everything, then moving over the ground around her, clearly reading what had taken place there.