Page 46 of Forging Darkness

For the second time, he crosses the invisible barrier around the combat circle, and a third Fallen joins the fray.

The warrior has proven his skill, but there’s no way he can hold his own against three Fallen.

The battle becomes a flurry of motion and sound. Weapons strike together in a continuous clang. The silver warrior’s movements blur with speed as he defends himself against his opponents.

My feet itch to move but remain rooted in place.

Despite his best efforts, the Fallen have managed to corral the fighter to the boundary another time, and yet another Fallen joins the fight.

It’s four-on-one with only three Fallen remaining on the sidelines.

The silver warrior cuts his way out of the smaller circle of Fallen that have closed in on him, hacking off the arm of one of his foes as he breaks free.

The victory doesn’t last long because the armless Fallen continues to advance, swinging at the warrior with his remaining arm.

Without realizing it, the warrior steps over the boundary again and a fifth Fallen rushes him from behind.

My shouted warning is swallowed by the crowd’s roar.

The warrior will be cleaved in two.

The Fallen raises her sword and brings it down in a brutal arc. I force myself to keep watching, when what I really want to do is squeeze my lids shut.

I’m sure I’m about to see another flow of black blood spray through the air when wings erupt from the warrior’s back.

Silver-tipped feathers deflect the blow. A shower of sparks falls where wing and blade meet.

Twisting, the warrior flares his wings and they cut cleanly through the Fallen, severing her body in half at the waist.

I can no longer deny what I’m seeing—what this warrior is.

That’s not a Forsaken fighting for his life, it’s an angel-born. And even though he’s doing an admirable job leveling the playing field, I can’t let him battle alone anymore.

Chapter Fifteen

Igrip the railing and vault over it, feeling the Taser probes rip from my side as Silver’s angry shouts ring in my ears. Instinct kicks in and I morph before my feet hit the sand. When I stand from my crouch, I flare my wings and grab the dagger at my thigh, wishing I had a weapon with a longer reach.

A beast the color of night darts out of the tunnel closest to me and charges. I’m stunned for a moment. The creature is even more terrifying up close, with its red eyes and drool dripping from its jowls.

It’s almost upon me when I snap out of it, launching my dagger when it’s only a few body lengths away. The blade makes contact with its shoulder, but slides off iridescent scales that act like armor.

I palm two more knives as the beast jumps at me with its jaw wide. Its elongated mouth could bite me in half.

With the monster in the air, I dive under its body, but point my sharp wings up in a move inspired by the silver Nephilim. Wetness pours on my back, and I hold in a gag.

I only spare the disemboweled being a half look to make sure it’s down for the count. It twitches in the sand with its guts several feet away from its body.

Good enough for me.

Taking a half-second to locate my discarded dagger and store the knives back in their sheaths, I snap my attention to the battle between the Nephilim and Fallen, ready to join the fight.

I’ve drawn the unwanted attention of the two unoccupied Fallen, who now sprint toward me. Their blood-red gazes are nothing short of hungry. Shadows continue to drip off of them as they draw closer.

What have I gotten myself into?

Easily eight feet in height, the former angels are the picture of violence. The ones headed my direction have a battle axe and spear clutched in their clawed hands. I don’t know why they bother carrying weapons—those hands of theirs are lethal enough. Their skin is stretched over bulging cords of muscles, yet their gray pallor makes them look like reanimated corpses.

Very fast and agile corpses, like super-sized zombies on steroids.

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