Sealed With a Curse(51)

She paused, mid–human drainage, and her nostrils flared. She’d noticed Misha. And that’s when her royal pissed-off-ness returned. She dropped her pile of people. They fell in a cluster, their heads lolling against their backs as Zhahara narrowed her soulless eyes at him. She screamed.

And we attacked.

Thunder hammered, rattling the castle as Taran’s fire sent Zhahara soaring down the hall. Taran’s power held strong—too strong; her body shook, and she screamed from the conduit of heat she pummeled into Zhahara. And still it wasn’t enough.

Zhahara’s limbs parachuted out like an X; she dug the nails of her hands and feet into the stone walls until they halted her descent. The vampires rushed her, giving Shayna mere moments to drag Taran’s failing body away from the fight.

Zhahara squashed a vamp’s head between her hands and swatted the others off like insects. They fell in a heap with a hard smash. The vampire who landed at her feet screamed when Zhahara’s foot crunched through her chest and into her heart.

My sisters muffled their cries. The fall of Misha’s family took seconds—so did my reaction time. My fangs found her neck; my claws dug into her back, a mere breath behind Misha’s vicious onslaught.

We rolled on the floor, crashing and demolishing furniture, overturning statues lining the wall, striving to get the upper hand, but managing only to keep from dying. Zhahara beat her boulder-size fists into my back until my muscles screamed in agony and my bones snapped.

I drew in an agonizing breath and shifted Zhahara down to her waist, her form too large for my declining strength. My claws scratched the stone in my attempt to scramble away. Zhahara’s thick fingers clasped my ankle, shattering it with a single squeeze, while her other hand drummed Misha against the floor.

Shayna appeared, wielding her battle-ax and driving it into the wrist that held me. In a furious holler, Zhahara hit Shayna with Misha’s body, sending her screaming into Taran.

Misha’s eyes shot open. He whipped around while Zhahara continued her vise grip to his thigh and attacked—peeling her burned, distorted face off in chunks. My back claws pushed into her neck, twisting and cutting through the putrid flesh, while my front claws dug into the floor as I tried to break away. Misha stripped her face down to bone, spilling the green blood like foaming sewer water. But it took more than that to kill a creature sick with hunger.

Zhahara twisted my leg, separating my femur from the socket, and hurled me toward the sweeping staircase.

A rush of warm fluid filled my mouth. I spit out the bright red mess and wheezed. A long piece of railing protruded through my chest. Below me, Misha staggered to his feet, barely keeping his balance. His head flopped against his back and blood spilled from his mutilated leg. Taran and Shayna lay near the doorway to the hall. Their breath rose and fell slowly in sync as frustrated tears streaked their bloodied faces.

Clumps of gray ash scattered from the relentless wind sweeping in through the destroyed windows while the rolling thunder continued to hammer. Out of Misha’s family, only four remained. They struggled like babies, using the walls and furniture to help them stand, frantic to help their master.

Zhahara’s fists busted the pavers, despite her missing face, despite her dangling wrist, despite my gashes to her neck sputtering her blood. She was almost free. I knew it and so did Misha.

Misha stumbled as he rose and snapped his own neck back into place. He met my eyes. “Forgive me,” he whispered, then marched forward to meet his fate.

I wanted to help Misha. I wanted to help all of us. And yet I couldn’t even help myself. My body screamed at the unfairness. But then I heard it: the rumbling sound of a runaway train, hurtling toward the castle as it gathered momentum.

I smiled on the inside.

Shit happened.

But so did magic.

Giant headlights illuminated the foyer as a deep horn blasted and the earth shook. The vampires launched themselves to shield my sisters. Misha leaped on top of me, covering my head with his body as the blaring force sideswiped the entry and jolted the entire castle. Chunks of granite and stone battered my hide. Metal twisted, glass shattered, and a little voice screamed with growing strain. Above us, the gas chandelier erupted into a fireball and the walls and ceiling cracked and crumbled.

It wasn’t until the last shudder ceased that Misha slid off my stunned form.

A Greyhound bus rested in a tilt over what used to be the foyer. Part of the castle’s second story hovered over its roof like an awning, spilling bricks in loud clangs against the warped metal. The castle’s entire front facade had been demolished into nothing more than a pile of rubble, powder, and broken glass.