Page 56 of A Love of Wrath and Rapture

“Don’t fuck around too much, Timm,” a male voice says from somewhere behind me. “Even weakened, he could kill us both.”

I hear a throaty, high-pitched chuckle.

“Ain’t nothing he can do to us in that state,” another male voice replies. “Let’s clip this fucker’s wings. Really teach him a lesson.”

My mind is flowing with panic.

Just kill them both.

The thought creeps through my head, but I stifle it, as I watch the chain pulling back toward its wielder.

I want to look him in the eyes.

Turning around, I follow the chain back to its source, seeing a small, haggard man whose beady eyes barely register me.

Is this really what I risked my life to defend?

The pain in my wing is excruciating.

“A beautiful little lady like Evangeline shacking up with an abomination like you,” the first man says, readying his chain and aiming for my other wing. “It’s not natural. You need to stop hypnotizing our women.”

I watch the chain swirl through the air.

I’m nowhere near equipped to take to the skies right now. My other powers are dormant, my strength still not back with me.

Even if I could fly away from this, who’s to say these men wouldn’t just endanger Evangeline?

The man lets loose the chain, and it hurtles toward me.

I could simply step out of the way, but I’d much rather send a message.

I cannot kill Evangeline’s friends.

Against a shooting pain that careens through my chest and up to my arms, shoulders, and wings, I raise my hand and I catch the chain.

The man’s eyes widen for a moment before he stills himself, trying to cling to his bravado.

I pull on the chain, and before he knows what’s happening, he’s pulled forward, his face planting into the road.

That’s when I see the firelight decorating a metal blade, his friend wielding it menacingly against me.

As the other man pushes himself up against the rocks, a few small cuts on his forehead and cheek leaking blood, the friend’s intimidating gaze fails to conceal his terror.

“What are you going to do, stab me with that?” I ask him.

He clears his throat and spits on the ground.

“If I have to,” he says. “If you won’t get the fuck out of our village, I will.”

A deluded smile forms on his face, his yellowing teeth mostly cracked.

“Jerren, maybe we should go home,” the other man says, wiping blood from his face.

This elicits a laugh.

“This whole operation was your idea, Timm.”

Timm struggles to bring himself to his feet.

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