Magic Forged (Hall of Blood and Mercy #1)(23)

I struggled and thrashed as the monster pulled me along. Rather than carry me, it let me fall to the ground and dragged me backwards over fallen branches, rocks, and stretches of pavement.

“No!” I pulled uselessly on the appendages which tightened around my waist, and screamed when its claws dug in, shedding dribbles of my blood.

Where were those useless vampires? They had to be able to smell my stinky blood by now!

I tried to grab at tree trunks, chipping my nails and skinning my knuckles when the monster effortlessly yanked me free.

It was hard to breathe in my panic, but I tried to shove it down—if I didn’t keep a clear head there was no way I was going to survive this thing.

I went limp and tilted my head back, trying to figure out where it was taking me. Just up ahead I saw the statue where the monster had yanked its own leg off.

It was headed in a straight line, seemingly intent on dragging me off Drake land.

If the vampires didn’t come before then, I was dead.

I hurriedly calculated its path, my ribs aching as if its claws were resting directly on bone as it pulled me along.

I had one chance. It was going to pass close to the dragon statue…and the monster’s severed front claw.

I leaned to the side closest to the statue, waiting for the flash of its claw.

In one smooth movement I managed to pinch the claw between my feet and toss it up at my head. I caught it and stabbed upwards, piercing the monster’s abdomen with its own claw, which sliced through its tough carapace.

The monster collapsed on top of me.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t planned for its giant-arse stinger, which stabbed my shoulder when it fell.

I screamed as hot, gut-wrenching pain knifed through my shoulder. The stinger must have been coated in poison, because it felt like my blood was boiling in my veins.

The monster dropped me as it tried to stand, endlessly turning in a circle and thrashing through the underbrush as it tried to pluck out the claw I had wedged in its abdomen.

I tried to move, but my vision was turning hazy, and soon I couldn’t even scream anymore.

My body felt heavy, and it took a lot of effort to keep breathing.

I thought I heard shouts, but I couldn’t be sure because my eyes closed against my will. Something prodded my forehead twice before I lost all feeling and fell into darkness.





Chapter Seven





Hazel





I woke up slowly, noticing the foreign sensation of sheets so soft they felt like silk, and the curious lack of pain.

Had I died? Was Heaven actually full of comfortable beds and expensive linens? I mean, I certainly wasn’t going to complain about it. That actually sounded pretty awesome at the moment. Though I was starting to get hot.

I slowly opened my eyes, wondering if I’d see Mom or Dad first.

Instead I got a face full of red eyes, a fashionably handsome look of distaste, and hair that was so artfully ruffled it belonged on a runway model instead of the head of a vampire.

Oh, I thought, my musings coming to me in a foggy mist. That’s Killian Drake.

Although my thoughts were complacent, my body must have known better, for a shot of adrenaline tore through me. Wait…that’s Killian Drake!

I sat up, intending to shriek, but the pain in my ribs stole the breath from my lungs, so it ended up being more of a feeble wheeze.

Killian, seated in a velvet armchair placed at the end of my bed, gave me a clear look of condescension. “I advise you to move with care. Your shoulder wound finally just closed, and it took a dozen fae potions to keep you from dribbling blood like a wounded water buffalo.”

I stared wide-eyed at Killian, barely daring to breathe.

Why was the Eminence of the Midwest and the leader of the Drake Family sitting in a chair by my bed?

He wasn’t the type to wait by anyone’s bedside, much less an unimportant kitchen servant. Which meant he was doing this for a reason. What, I couldn’t possibly fathom. Hopefully I could bleat my thanks, he’d leave, and I could stew it over in comfortable loneliness.

I awkwardly cleared my throat. “What happened?”

Killian blinked slowly, the red of his eyes so dark they almost appeared black. “So droll and so typical. Do you really not remember the creature that did its best to disembowel you?”

“I remember stabbing it in the abdomen with its own claw.” I tried to discreetly roll my shoulders, marveling over the smooth motion that didn’t hurt, even though I’d basically taken a dagger wound.

“Yes, rather ingenious for a wizard. Although you did your best to die afterwards and have been out of it for an hour.” Killian pointed to a glass chalice filled with a foamy blue liquid. “Drink that.”

I squinted at the cup—was it bubbling?

“It’s an A level healing draught,” Killian said. His tone was bored, as if such a potion was nothing significant when, in fact, they cost about a month’s worth of the average human salary. “Drink it so you stop wincing over your cracked ribs.”

I seriously hoped Killian was exaggerating due to his general irritation with me, but I didn’t dare refuse. (Although I had a sinking suspicion this was going to cost me big time in the future. Did he plan to dock my pay?)

I held the chalice with a shaky hand and took a sip, relaxing at the flavor—which tasted creamy, almost like ice cream, with a tangy hint of sea salt.