Page 27 of Heir of Broken Souls

The owner of the hand pauses, then moves to fling us across the room, but my magic is quicker. The viper strikes, latching its fangs into the shadowed hand holding me captive. The second the fingers become lax, the owner crying out in agony, I whirl.

Coming face-to-face with a Phooka.

With a body of a man and the skull of a goat, its curved antlers are the thing to fear. The shock that collides with my body at seeing its milky white eyes evaporates the moment its unnaturally large hands grab for me again. I spin, narrowly avoiding the antlers from slicing my neck.

As I scramble away, more screams trail in from outside. It sounds like battle, like misery. My heart jumps a frantic beat, begging to help them, but a Phooka is not a creature to turn your back on. Nor are they one to underestimate.

Its jaw distends as if it were grinning. My canines flare with a low growl at the sight as I make my move.

With the daggers still strapped to my body from our earlier flight, I snatch one from my hip and lunge. I have no time to analyze how a blade appears in its hand too, courtesy of a lone shadow trailing up its arm. I swipe its exposed side, my blade singing with golden flames, only to meet the steel of its dagger. The Phooka matches me hit for hit.

Bellows explode from the study, furniture smashing into a thousand broken pieces. Knox and his court must be fighting too. But my panic doesn’t get a chance to take hold, not as the Phooka flies for my face again and I whirl to avoid the blade aiming for me.

Rising, I lift my free palm, a golden fireball dancing along my fingertips. My magic sings its praises at being used, its soft melodic voice urging me—commandingme—to use it. The Phooka pauses at the sight.

Something rips my head to the side and slaps a hand down on my wrists. My magic sputters and dies, and my blade drops to the ground. I cry out in shock, the Phooka tilting its head back with a menacing laugh. Another attacker stands behind me, reaching for my dragon pommel sword.

A sense of dread fills my blood and with a heavy dose of certainty, I know that if my assailants take me, I will never come back. With that knowledge, my magic swells, along with my fury.

Pushing off the balls of my feet, gritting my teeth, I put all my weight on the attacker behind me and kick out with a snarl. The Phooka in front of me, as cocky as ever, doesn’t see it coming. With a grunt, it goes flying across the room into the far stair banister, its head crashing with a sickening thud. Satisfaction hums through me as it slumps to the ground, its skull cracked and shattered, its bone fragments littering the marble tile floor.

The assailant at my back tightens their hold on my arms. “You’ll pay for that, you fucking golden bitch!”

Cocking my head to the side, I grow lax in its arms, my body no longer fighting. “I don’t think so.”

I feel him before I see him, my magic pausing its planned attack.

Darkness fills the room. Fury pulses in every curl of shadow, in every dark corner. A low vicious growl ricochets off the walls.

“Show yourself!” the demonic creature howls.

“Be careful what you wish for,” I sing, mockingly.

A large gust of wind smashes into the side of my face, forcing me to squint my eyes closed as a hot sticky substance splatters my clothes. Gurgling follows, and then the thing at my back crumbles.

Spinning, I find Knox standing amongst his shadows, covered head to toe in both black and red blood with a face so menacing it startles even myself. In this moment, Knox is a god of fury.

That is, until his gaze lands upon me, searching every inch.

Once he finds not a hair out of place, his chest deflates, his soul barging through the door in my mind and cradling me in a bone-crushing hug—between our souls and our physical bodies. He heaves, trying to calm himself. He runs his callused hands over the back of my head, holding it close. “Delilah,” he breathes.

The sound of boots thumping down the corridor has him whirling, positioning me behind him. Shadows explode into the room, concealing us from sight.

“Knox!” a familiar voice bellows.

My shoulders hitch at the emotion I haven’t heard in weeks. “Lenox?” I whisper in a thick voice.

The shadows evaporate as quickly as they arrived, revealing Lenox panting in the doorway. Seeing us brings a swell of relief across Lenox’s face.

“Quickly, they’re about to storm the estate!” he declares before spinning and taking off down the hall.

With a simple look, I hold up my hand and take off, calling over my shoulder, “We don’t have time for an argument, but even the gods themselves couldn’t keep me away, Knox, and you bloody well know that!”

* * *

Madness greets me as I run outside.

Darkness has descended upon Knox’s estate, leaving destruction in its wake. With one glance across the bloody grounds, I find Aurora and Zephlyn guarding Creseda and Henry by the stables as they fend off two demonic dragons. Anger surges through me.