Page 110 of Resurrection
Like an elegant dance, only headless bodies are left in its wake.
I’m more of a brute of a girl if you ask me. Having no form or elegance in my movements, let’s face it, I would rather run screaming before fighting anyone not long ago. Turning immortal didn’t miraculously make me into a ninja, unfortunately. My style is more of a feral, vicious animal, bloodthirsty and descending on the mages like a plague.
The fucking mages are multiplying in this building, and the more we kill, the more replace them. Hunger opens a hole in my stomach, so I don’t mind having as many of them as I can get to kill, but some of the assholes started painting sigils on the walls, and Guardians begin to drop like flies when they get near them.
Kicking at the female mage when she finally gets close enough, I nail her in the hip, and she zaps through the air like a football over everyone’s heads, crashing into the opposite wall. Reaching for the rage inside me but still keeping tight control of the darkness, I punch and kick my way closer to Sebastian, ripping a throat or two in the process. Blood is dribbling down my chin and neck, soaking up my shirt. It’s drenched and plastered to my chest, too warm on my chilled skin.
“We need someone to break those symbols,” I tell Sebastian when I press my back to his.
“What symbols?” Grabbing a mage by his throat, he flings him at the group of them a few feet away, taking them all down like bowling pins.
“Look at the walls.” Ducking under his arm when he spins, we switch places, the jerk not allowing me to get a hit.
He spins and dances around me, forming a wall of dead bodies knee-high around us.
“On it,” Marcus calls out, having come to join us without me noticing.
A scream is wrenched from me when fire ignites on my left shoulder blade, licking down all the way to the palm of my hand. Sebastian thunders with an earsplitting roar and redoubles his efforts of disintegrating anyone dumb enough to be close by. Watching what he was doing left me open, so I deserve the brain numbing pain I feel. It heals as it burns, so I’m not worried about it.
Marcus is already halfway through one side, punching the wall like it’s made out of paper, successfully destroying whatever sigils the mages placed there. Those that were lifeless on the ground around the symbols jump to their feet, joining the fight again. He turns his head, searching for me, and when our eyes meet, he points at something over my head. I follow the direction, turning my back to him as my eyes land on a set of stairs leading to a hallway.
All those new mages joining the fight are coming from there, running at us as I watch. And over their heads, my eyes zero in on one face that is standing still watching the bloodbath with detachment I’ve never seen on anyone in any of my lifetimes.
Sara.
“Got ya,” I spit out through clenched teeth and shove my way to join her. As I cut through the space between us, a plan starts forming in my head.
If I want to come out on top of this nightmare, I need to stop acting predictably. Sara knows me too well for anything I do to surprise her. But if I actually use my impulsiveness as a weapon, it may save many lives, including my own.
With each step, a clearer picture starts to form and a knot that was squeezing tight around my heart starts loosening.
Chapter Ninety-Five
APRIL
She sees me when I take the first step, her treacherous eyes widening, and she runs out of sight. Sebastian shouts my name, but he has too many surrounding him in hopes to take him down, so he can’t stop me from going after her. Guardians that see me pass join my path, opening up enough room in the torrent of mages so I can push by.
“Marcus,” Sebastian rages when he realizes I’m not going to listen and go back to hide behind him.
Jumping over bodies and speed walking, I have to duck and crouch a few times to avoid being barbequed by the annoying assholes. Finally, we reach double doors closing off whatever part of the theater is behind them. Without stopping, I rush it, ramming my shoulder and splintering the wood.
Stumbling, I stop in my tracks when the empty space meets me. An uneasy feeling skitters across my skin that gives me a pause. A scent tickles my nose bringing back a memory too lucrative for me to grasp but strong enough that alarm bells are screeching in my head.
A trap.
I am sure that I am walking into a trap as sure as I am that my name is April. What are the odds that my insane plan might actually work?
Rows and rows of brown velvet seats curl in a semi-circle around the vast room. Cream walls surround it, the lights gleaming down their length and making them look golden. Narrow pathways branch between the chairs in straight lines, all leading to the center stage where a dark wooden podium polished to a shine is framed at the back by a royal blue curtain. The folds of the draping fabric don’t stir at all, so I know no one is hiding behind it.
The Guardians turn their backs, forming a barricade so no one can enter, leaving me to do what I’ve been dreaming about since we took over the thrones. This is my one chance to put an end to this ordeal.
“Come out Sara,” I singsong, stewing in my rage from seeing her face. “Come see your best friend. It’s been a while.”
Nothing.
Even the air is still, and if not for me inching further in it, I may even think it’s a painting and not a real space. The sounds of the fight and screams are somewhat muted here, but they’re still loud enough to bounce around my skull.
“Show your face, you coward,” I snarl, moving deeper into the room toward the podium.
