Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Her smile is sharp. “And it stopped you from freaking out about Azazel for a little while.” She loops her arm through mine. “Come on. We may as well get a good seat.”
I find myself digging in my heels. “It’s not safe.”
“Honey, it’s about as safe as it can be. Brosh is confident enough to challenge Azazel, so he won’t fuck with you in the meantime.”
I don’t know how this woman seems to have such a grasp on things when I’m spinning out, but maybe that’s part of what drew Ramanu to her in the first place: She’s entirely unbothered by this whole fiasco.
Truth be told, the thought of waiting in my room to find out if Azazel is dead or victorious is too much. I nod jerkily. “Okay, fine. Let’s go.”
To my surprise, the castle doesn’t try to stop us. The doors open easily, and we march toward the square where Ramanu took me shopping on that ill-fated day. In the time Lenora was spinning her bloody tale, the center of the square has been entirely cleared and a crowd has gathered around the perimeter.
Ramanu themself is there, and they seem exasperated as they wave us over. “You know, when I told you to help, I didn’t intend for you to bring Eve here.”
“I know,” Lenora says primly. “But I’m still helping. I’ll keep her safe so you can focus on Azazel.”
I know Ramanu called her a witch and that magic exists, but it’s still hard to wrap my head around humans using it. Ramanu, on the other hand, looks visibly relieved. “Thanks, love.” They press a quick kiss to her lips and nudge us backward into an open doorway. “Stay here.”
A hush falls over the crowd as Brosh steps out of an alley and into the cleared space. He’s still grinning as if he’s not worried in the least. I would be less worried if he didn’t seem so confident as he rolls his massive shoulders and bounces on his toes like a boxer ready to go. I’m pretty sure his claws are longer than they were in the castle too. The easier to disembowel the man I love with.
Azazel walks out of the castle a few moments later. He’s changed into a pair of pants and little else. It seems like a terrible idea. Where is his armor? Shouldn’t he have a damned helmet or something? At least a neck guard to keep from having his throat ripped out!
Brosh yanks his shirt over his head and tosses it to the ground. “The mighty Azazel. Ready to die, cousin?”
Azazel doesn’t speak a word. He simply holds out a hand and crooks his fingers in a gesture that conveys “let’s get this over with.” I don’t know if his lack of theater is comforting or concerning, just a mask for a deeper worry.
There’s no time to decide. Brosh charges him, more bull than bargainer. He’s so incredibly fast—too fast. Azazel jumps back but too late; a swipe of Brosh’s claws opens up four deep gashes on Azazel’s chest.
I slap my hands over my mouth to keep my cry of concern internal. I won’t be the one to distract him, not when he needs every bit of his wits about him.
“Very good,” Lenora murmurs in my ear. “You’re doing well, Eve.”
Why be concerned about me when he may very well die right before my eyes?
There’s no space to ask. Brosh is on the attack again, swinging wildly. Azazel barely dodges the swipes, barely keeps a step ahead of his cousin. They circle the cleared space, sweat already gleaming on their bare skin. Sweat and blood on Azazel’s.
And Azazel hasn’t landed a single hit.
I don’t realize I’ve started shaking until Lenora wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Shh, shh, it’s fine. He’s playing a good game of strategy. I know it’s hard to see when you care about the person involved—trust me, I know—but he’s got things under control.”
Her words buzz over me but don’t penetrate. Not when my heart is being stalked by his enemy, his cousin, who clearly wants him dead. And he’s slowing down. Brosh lands a kick to Azazel’s chest and two swipes to his chest and shoulder. More blood paints the cobblestones. Only one person’s blood.
Brosh laughs and spreads his arms. “Is this your leader? He’s as weak as he’s made our territory. Pathetic.” He turns . . . and runs right into Azazel’s claws.
I gasp. The sound is lost in the midst of the crowd doing the same thing. Someone screams. A handful of people cheer.
Azazel appears tormented as he holds his cousin’s shoulder and shoves his claws deeper into Brosh’s stomach. Deeper and up . . . to rip out his heart. The man falls to the ground, dark eyes glassy with death. Azazel stares at the bloody heart in his claws and drops it on top of Brosh’s body.