Page 41 of Hostile Holiday

Orla agreed, and they headed out to his car and piled in.

Emery sat in the back, and as they drove the twenty minutes, they discussed what was about to happen.

They had to get them out. Hunter was in charge of the troll, and the ladies would handle everything else.

He drove past the broken guardrail and up to the house. His tires didn’t skid on the ice, and he parked near the house.

They got out of the car and lined up. Emery made an energy ball and pitched it at the house. It struck; the house wavered and disappeared.

Orla grinned. “Well, that solved that problem.”

The ogres and their guard came toward them. Her father shouted, “What do you want? And how did you get out of the water?”

Orla smirked. “I can swim, dumbass.”

Her family jerked.

She continued, “Now, Father, my friend here has something to discuss with you. I would recommend you listen.”

Emery stepped forward. “You owe me a blood debt. You cost me my mother. So, if you will come here, I will kill you, and we will get this over with.”

The ogre got taller and uglier, expanding as Orla watched. “How do you want to die, little girl?”

Emery transformed, reached up and back, and pulled two long blades out of thin air, grinning. “Well, as you won’t be able to do it, I suggest I keep my personal interests to myself.”

Orla enacted her revenge wordlessly. She transformed her brother into a kitten, and her grandfather immediately pounced. He lifted the kitten, his jaw hinged wide and swallowed it whole.

Orla smiled grimly, counted to ten, and snapped her fingers. Her brother regained his body but was crushed and twisted as he blew his grandfather to pieces as he resumed his height and weight.

Emery faced off against Orla’s father with a grin, and she danced lightly, taking a piece of him off at a time until he was screaming and blubbering but unable to run. The last thing to go was his head.

Orla walked past the bouncing head as she walked to where her grandfather was shattered and splattered, and her brother was lying broken and struggling to his feet.

Orla walked up to him and muttered, “Get up.”

He looked at her and sneered. “You will pay for this.”

“I am not sure that you will live to see that.” She pulled her sword and got into a fighter’s crouch.

He looked at her and staggered, his left arm held behind him. “You stupid bitch! You are the ruin of this family. You doomed us all.”

“I am looking at the only bitch in the family. Bring it.” She held up her ugly sweater, and he roared, his eyes turning red and his stumpy fangs extended. “Thirty-five and still living with daddy. Loser.”

There was a huge roar, and he charged.

The troll at the arena trying to knock her over... the orc gnashing his teeth... the over a dozen more ferocious attacks that she had seen and survived.Orla embraced everything she had learned and dodged claws, stabbed, circled, and stabbed again. Blood made the floor slippery, but her boots gripped and let her complete what she came to do.

Finally, she had rendered his arms useless and stood facing him as his eyes rolled in panic. “Mr. Mittens says hello.”

She took his head off. Black blood spilled, and his head tumbled to one side.

The silence was complete until she heard her heavy breathing.

Emery was at her side and smiled. “You did good. Now, let’s finish things.”

Emery turned her around, and Orla was standing and facing herself in the velvet she had been wearing hours earlier. The stars above were watching.

Orla swallowed. “What do I do?”

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