Page 128 of Court of Evil

She’s not alone, she has all of us, and no matter what will happen, she will face it with her people.

The last few floors are empty, eerily so, and when we head down to the gym, we see why. They are gathered there, waiting. She peeks through the glass door to the dark interior, where they move about and plot. Other hunters surge inside from a different entrance, attacking them from behind. Tate swears as the difference between them becomes hard to determine. Hunters versus hunters, a tangled crowd that would take forever to pick apart.

They need our help, but the threat from outside grows closer. “More vehicles are congregating outside. The hillside is now filled with enemies,” Addeus offers helpfully as if reading my thoughts.

The gym is filled with assailants and hunters—friend and foe.

“Tem.” She looks at me. “We do not have time to pick them off one by one. You can do this, yes? Just those who would harm us. No friends.”

“Yes, mistress, I can do anything you ask,” I reply.

“Then do it.” She looks back at the gym with a sinister smile. “I’m ordering you to kill anyone who would harm us.”

Finally, my mistress sets me free. She’s using me like so many have in the past, but this time, I’m happy to obey.

Stepping inside the gym, I close the door behind me to keep my mistress from being covered in blood as I release my tight control.

There is a reason so many tried to become my master.

There is a reason I was locked away.

It was not for my safety, but theirs.

My shadows eclipse the room, obscuring everything as I turn it into my dungeon and show them the true power of a tempest. My whispers funnel into the ears of our friends, and Iwrap myself around them tightly to protect them from what will happen.

I wander through the shadows, transforming as I do, growing bigger and taller. My skin turns red with the blood of my enemies and horns sprout from my skull, burning with hellfire. When I faced Tate, I held back in case she was the one I was searching for. My soul told me she was not an enemy, but these are enemies, and they would hurt my mistress if given the chance.

The first attacker I come across is blindly swinging around in the dark, his gun raised. I see the hair on his arms rise as I slide through the shadows and breathe along his neck. He gasps as he turns. “Who’s there?”

“A tempest,” I whisper. “And your blood smells tainted.”

I carve his neck open, spraying his blood everywhere as he screams and chokes, falling to his knees. Sliding through the shadows, I slay any enemies I come across. My shadows rip into them, tearing them apart until their cries of agony fill the air. Their pleas for mercy go unheard until they scream her name.

“Tate! Please! We’re sorry! Tate!”

I despise hearing her beautiful name on their lips, so I silence them.

Standing in the middle of my shadows, I send one thought out—silence. They choke on their pleas, on her name, and my shadows flow into their mouths and down into their bodies. I stand in the midst of it all, wearing a hungry grin as I feed on their tainted blood. It fills me, making me stronger. My shadows grow, expanding inside them.

The floor is covered with their blood.

They keep feeding me, and I keep expanding, until their bodies cannot hold any more. They explode, and I feast on their flesh and bones, pulling it into me until there is nothing left of them. Where enemies once stood, only a memory remains.

I pull my shadows back into me, bigger than before due to the mass feeding, and when the lights flicker back on, the hunters are left looking around, but all that is left of the attackers are their clothes.

The door opens, and Tate looks them over before meeting my gaze. “Good job, Tem. Let’s go. They are outside.”

“Yes, mistress.” I smile and skip over to her. I follow her out and up until we stand in the entryway of Stalkers’ Rest. It’s filled with hunters waiting for orders, and I see why. Grey metal shutters cover the doors and windows. The security checkpoint is empty, with weapons spread across the table.

“What now?” a hunter asks Shamus, who looks over their numbers.

“Rogue units as well as hunters who were on field work are gathered outside,” Shamus calls, but I follow my mistress as she stops before the doors. Her eyes seem far away for a moment. I feel her mind then, pushing and moving.

She is using her gift.

“This doesn’t end until they are gone. We make a stand here. Don’t you . . . Angel?” Shamus hurries over, placing his hand on her shoulder, but when he sees she’s concentrating, he silences himself.

She blinks a moment later and glances at us, her face closed down. Something in her eyes makes me narrow my own. She saw something that has made her more determined than ever. She looks at us as if she’s deciding something. Does she not realise we would march into hell for her?

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