Medea fully shifted from human to Raven Empousa. “You dare attack me?” she asked, her voice now ragged.
I stood and faced her and her storm spirits, swallowing air like it was my last meal. “Why?” I asked. “Why her?”
“Because your blood lives in her. And she is needed elsewhere.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I roared, baring my teeth.
“I do not question my Nephil. She has her reasons, and she trusted me to provide her with the girl and your blood. I did not fail her.”
My mind shadowed. I could barely think, let alone process Medea’s information.
She stepped forward, toward me and away from her Anemoi. “Your purpose has been served, Arkos. Now, you shall die.”
If I had a dollar for every monster that threatened to kill me, I might be able to buy a plane ticket the fuck out of here. Medea’s threat held a little more weight than the previous ones, though. I always had magic and guns to assist me out of any problem. In her dark, gloomy chamber—and not that one, pervert—I had no magic and no weapons to fight with. She had her full power, along with six storm spirits and a small army of Empousa.
It’s crazy knowing you’re going to die, and knowing you can’t do shit about it. In that realization, I wasn’t afraid, just regretful of my life. Why had Callie and I not retired when we had a child? Why had we not move far away and lived like a real family? Why had I allowed Derek take my daughter? Why had I spent the past seven years wallowing in self-pity and depression, when I could have loved Mel? Why had I followed her and fallen into a routine that had allowed people to find me and her, leading to her capture and death?
Every decision I had made over the past seven years weighed on me. I had fucked up—not only my life, but Callie’s and Mel’s. As much anger and hate as I had toward Medea, I possessed even more for myself.
The flames in the chamber flickered, throwing even more shadows around me. I meant to die to end my miserable life, but I wouldn’t go without a fight. As Medea ambled toward me, smug as a bug in a rug, I grabbed a torch and sprinted toward her again. I anticipated her to throw up a magical shield, so when she raised her arm in the warding gesture, I sidestepped her entirely and threw the flame at a wind spirit. The Anemoi screeched like a gust howling through a gutter. I turned away from the spirits and leaped at Medea, hoping to catch her unaware at another sudden change of direction.
It worked.
She had dropped her magical shield to attack my back, but I had turned and tackled her to the stone floor before she had the chance, mounting her. I drove my fist into her face, feeling something give. Following suit with my other fist, I cracked her jaw. When I went for a third strike, she dodged, and I punched the ground. My entire arm went numb as my knuckles shattered and my wrist broke.
Medea dug her talons into my side, tearing into my flesh. Her face, split open and bleeding, popped back into place and healed. She giggled, pursing her lips and blowing as if presented a birthday cake. A gust of wind picked me up and threw me across the room. My head cracked against the stone wall. A wave of heat and nausea rushed over me, and my vision blurred from the impact.
I worked my way to a squat, placing my good hand on the ground for support. My broken wrist throbbed, but the pain barely registered beneath my anger and adrenaline. I wanted nothing more than to take a nap right there on the cold stones, but I glared up at Medea. The Anemoi I had enflamed a few seconds prior hovered behind her, fully intact and unscathed.
I had tried my best, and my best hadn’t even left a scratch.
Dropping to my ass, I leaned my back against the wall and watched as the remaining Empousa and Anemoi overwhelmed Xander, rendering his divine guns useless. He dropped one to the ground and drew a white-glowing dagger and tried his darnedest to keep the monsters at bay.
Would he die too, because of me? Just like Callie. Just like Mel.
From my peripheral, the wind spirits glowed a light blue. I resigned myself to their attack and to death. I didn’t have the strength or the energy to fight, anyway. Four tendrils of lightning flashed from the Anemoi and stretched toward me.
I closed my eyes. When a second passed and nothing had happened, I opened them. “What the honky-tonk?” I asked. A thin layer of shadow covered my body, absorbing the strands of lightning, and I barely felt a tickle from the assault.
Medea’s face flushed. I thought I saw panic in her features. She mumbled and raised a hand into the air. An icy spike formed in her palm, and she screamed as she threw it toward me. A cold sensation spread across my body, like someone had dumped snow over my head, but I felt no pain from her attack.
“What?” she gasped, taking a desperate step backward.
The shadows that surrounded me moved. I saw form and substance within them. Reflexively, I reached for one, grabbing it. It shifted into the shape of the ice spike that Medea had hurled at me, and I threw the darkness back at her. It whistled through the air and plunged into her bare chest.
She shrieked, clutching at the wound. Dark lines appeared over her skin like veins. They crawled across her body. Blood from the piercing spilled over her stomach.
