Rise of the Gryphon (Belador #4)(70)

At least, she thought he was male.

A three-foot-long shock of gray hair grew out of his chest and hung down between his knees. That hair probably hid genitals. Orange-red orbs glowed inside the deep-set black holes for eyes on each side of his narrow face, and another mass of the feathery gray hair sprouted off his bony head and fell past his shoulders like a headdress.

He reached over his back, pulled out a sword as long as her leg and raised it above his head.

The bloodthirsty crowd screamed with delight.

She had no intention of spilling any of hers to entertain them, but between Ozawa’s reach and the length of that sword, she might not have a say.

Her sixteen-inch dagger had a spelled blade that killed demons, but pulling that out right now would only get her laughed out of the place.

Ozawa emitted a low, grunting noise sounding like a crazed boar. His mouth hung open. A brick-red tongue snaked out, then back in. He drooled red saliva.

No, that was blood sliding off his jaw. Now she remembered. Wendigos were insatiable cannibals.

He didn’t just want to win.

He wanted to eat her.

Ozawa rushed her, swinging the blade with the ease of a demonic Highlander.

Watching his eyes change from red to glowing yellow centers, Evalle dove away from the gate as the blade whistled past her shoulder. He would have sliced her in half. She could use a kinetic shield to hold him off. She hoped.

Quick on his feet, Ozawa spun around and pursued, flipping the sword from hand to hand. His eyes boiled red again.

She waited for him to get close, then bent her knees. Calling forth a short burst of kinetic power, she leaped to go over his head.

But he jumped just as high. Higher.

And swung the sword across his body at the same time.

She whipped her hands forward, pushing a blast of energy in front of her.

His blade slammed against the wall of energy, and the blow knocked her sideways. Felt like a bus had hit her. She flew through the air, hit the packed-dirt floor rolling and lunged to her feet, hands up, ready.

That’s when she noticed something useful. His eyes brightened to yellow once more, and when they did, his sword sizzled along the edge.

Avoid him during yellow eyes.

She dodged his next strike, then started racing around the dome with him turning and chasing.

The crowd booed her.

Screw ’em.

Ozawa’s blade caught her across the back of her hand. She hissed at the pain but didn’t slow down. When he missed her the next time, he swung his sword to cut her leg.

She backed out of range and should have been clear.

But he released the sword this time, letting it slice across her thigh.

The blade cut her skin as clean as a scalpel through a firm tomato.

Her momentum threw her forward and down. She tumbled over and over, landing against the dome wall that sparked with the contact. That mild shock was nothing compared to feeling the skin on her hand and leg burning, literally.

She could smell smoldering flesh.

Ozawa raised his sword, taking his time to cross the dome to her. He waved his weapon in the air, stirring the crowd.

A show-off cannibal.

Lying on her back, one arm tucked at her side and the other flung away from her body, she took deep, ragged pants.

Letting her head loll to the side, she caught sight of Storm plowing through people.

When his gaze met hers, she gave a tiny shake of her head, mouthing the words Trust me.

He hesitated, then kept coming, his eyes on her the whole time.

Ozawa moved toward her on huge canine hind legs, stopping close enough for the wide paws he stood on to gag her with the smell of rotted skin. He grasped the sword hilt with two hands and raised it slowly for a dramatic kill.

As the blade came down, she heard Storm’s roar from outside the dome.

She drove all her kinetic energy into a shield between her and the sword, parallel with the ground.

The sword crashed down on her protective field, driving her hard against the ground. Her arm gave, bending at the elbow, but she shoved back with all her power.

My turn.

Yanking her other hand away from her body, she whispered to the blade on the dagger in her hand, telling it to stop at nothing. She sliced horizontally above the ankles, cutting through both of the wendigo’s legs.

Ozawa’s fierce gaze lost its yellow glow. Confusion filled his red eyes. Stunned, he teetered, then fell backward, bouncing hard when he hit the ground.

Evalle released her shield of energy and flipped her hold on the dagger. She shoved to her feet and leaped over Ozawa’s prone body, deftly landing inches from his head.

She drove her dagger into his eye socket.

He reached up with sharp claws that he dragged down her arm.

She tightened her grip, fighting a scream at the pain, and twisted the dagger. His body rocked back and forth. Taut skin stretched over his torso cracked and peeled away from muscle that shriveled. His jaw dropped open. Howling black spirits shot out in all directions, flashing into fireballs when they hit the dome wall.

When his body stopped jerking, Evalle ripped out her dagger and wiped the gray liquid on his headdress hair. She forced herself to stand and gritted her teeth at the searing burn in her wounds.

She headed for Gate Two, catching a glimpse of Storm in her peripheral vision before he disappeared in the direction of the entrance to the holding area.

Just as she reached the hallway, an explosion shook the ground beneath her. She sidestepped, but kept moving. If the place was blowing up, she hoped Storm would get to Lanna.