Page 6 of Mending Mayhem

Roach-man snapped his butt-ugly head toward us and hissed.

Ash held a hand toward him. “Standing tall or on?—”

The fae rushed her, knocking her to the ground and chomping on her shoulder. Her sigils fought back. His teeth barely grazed her thickened skin, and her body expelled the venom in seconds.

Chaos kicked Roachman in the head, exposing his unprotected neck, and I jabbed a dagger into the soft spot beneath his ear hole. He screeched, flapping his papery wings and jetting to the ceiling before yanking out the blade. “How did you do it?”

I made a stabbing motion with my hand. “It’s not hard.”

He peeled back his thin lips to expose jagged teeth. “The soldier. How did you kill her?”

I laughed dryly. “Which one?”

Ash rose to her feet, the flesh wound on her shoulder already healing. “You won’t find the answer in here.” She grabbed Chaos’s hand and nodded at Roachman.

“You will come down and allow us to kill you.” He splayed his fingers, and hellfire licked down to their tips before returning inside him.

“The hell I will.” He fluttered his disgusting wings, the sound making my skin crawl. “The world will be ours.”

I shook my head. “You giant buggers keep saying that, but we keep taking you out. As long as witches exist, this world will never belong to the fae.”

He hurled the dagger at me, the blade barely nicking my arm before it hit the ground. Yay for protection sigils.

Roachman roared and flew at me like a witch-seeking missile, slamming into my chest before pinning me against the wall. He opened his revolting mouth, venomous saliva dripping from pointy teeth, and I pressed my lips together, rolling them inward. No way in hell was I tasting that shit again.

Miles hit him with an energy ball, but it ricocheted off his exoskeleton and hit Shade in the stomach. His body convulsed, and he doubled over, clutching his gut. “Goddess, that hurts.”

“Sorry.” Miles touched his shoulder.

Roachman reared back, ready to chomp my face, but I pulled the same trick on him as I had on Mayhem. Grabbing a knife from my thigh holster, I shoved it upward, beneath one of his armored plates. Sadly, I missed his heart.

He recoiled, glaring at me like I was the vilest, most insolent creature he’d ever seen. I started to tell him the feeling was mutual, but he shoved Shade aside and darted out the door before I could open my mouth.

I gave chase, barreling down the stairs after him and setting my sword ablaze. When I reached the ground floor, I swung. Fiery enchanted silver sliced into his wing, making him howl. He flapped, bits of char raining onto the floor, but he couldn’t take flight.

My team closed in behind us, the guys with their weapons drawn and Ash holding three potion bottles. Roachman screeched and chittered, speaking a language that didn’t even sound like words.

Ash recited a perimeter-locating spell and blew powder into the air. It collected around a two-foot rift, revealing four sets of talons trying to rip it open wider. The claws shimmered and disappeared.

“Effing soldiers. Seal it before they get through.” I swung my sword at Roachman, but he feinted left and lashed out a clawed hand, cutting into Ash’s arm and knocking the second potion bottle out of her hand.

It shattered on the floor, liquid spilling around her feet, sizzling and turning into purple smoke.

“Crappity crap! That’s a nerve hex.” She tensed, drawing her shoulders toward her ears, her face contorting with pain.

Chaos threw a punch, hitting Roachman in the jaw. The fae careened backward, falling on his ass before hissing and darting through the rift.

An oblong shimmer protruded from the tear, and I brought my blade down, slicing through it. The cloak disintegrated, revealing a soldier’s insect-like arm, and Ash wheezed, collapsing against Chaos.

“Is this the sealing spell?” I pried the last bottle from her rigid fist, and she nodded.

I tossed the bottle to Miles and let the guys take care of the rift before turning back to my sister. “Do you have the antidote?”

She nodded, patting her bag. Her knees buckled, her legs swelling, turning purple beneath her fishnets, and Chaos lowered her to the floor. I rummaged through her bag while Chaos removed her boots and tore off her tights.

“Those protection sigils don’t last long enough.” There must’ve been thirty bottles in her satchel, some individual ingredients, some premixed spells…none of them labeled. “Which one is it?”

“Red jar,” she said through clenched teeth. Sweat poured down her face, and her body seized, every muscle tensing before she passed out from the pain. Nerve hexes were the worst. I knew that from experience.

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