Page 90 of The Cursed and the Broken
My eyes snapped open as Dante cried out, his blade descending upon Yaga’s neck, András and the other men roaring as they moved all at once. Time moved slowly, yet all too quick. Yaga’s eyes widened with surprise, her hand flying out as some darker power halted his blade mere inches from her flesh.
“You would slaughter your own mother?” she screamed, fury swelling her pupils, turning them black with murder.
He sneered at her, his shadows uncoiling with rage around his form, his hand quivering as he fought against her power. “You stopped being my mother a long time ago.”
With a flick of her wrist, his own snapped, the blade clattering uselessly to his feet as he cried out in pain. His eyes darted to my own, then to the blade still in Yaga’s hand, panic overtaking the usually stoic facade of the warrior.
His soldiers surged over the cultists, many of them equipped with new blades in hand. But how? More roars filled the space, and táltosok surged into the clearing, blades drawn, many tossing weapons to their still unarmed kith.
Among them I saw Erika and—my heart surged—my mother, twisting and arcing with the practice of a skilled warrior. Tears streamed down my face at the sight of her, fierce and unyielding. Dante must have alerted them ahead of time. My stomach flipped as hope soared through me. He’d had a backup plan all along.
Mama caught my eye, changing direction to crash like waves upon the cultists. Trying to break through, trying to reach me in time.
In the chaos, I swore I saw Fate standing within the treeline, little more than a blur of shadow and wisps as she watched the violence with a smile on scarlet lips. She couldn’t intervene in Middle World affairs, but she certainly seemed to enjoy watching the carnage.
That bitch … that mother fu—
A shout dragged my eyes back beside me. Yaga still had Dante firmly rooted in place, his face twisting, fighting whatever magic fixed him to the earth. The urn within the pentagram shattered as someone kicked it over and her beautiful face morphed into an all-consuming rage.
The knife shifted in her palm, angled to slice my torso, and she shrieked in anger as she plunged it into my flesh. My mother screamed with fear. And I …I screamed in painas that blade pierced my skin, slicing a deep cut down my chest. My skin burned as though someone had taken a poker to it, raking through the flesh in one long, boiling stroke.
Yaga murmured those hateful, ancient words and the blood swelled, surging from me in misty waves, swirling into that pile of ash scattered beside the urn. Beyond the pain I had the vague sensation of my power stirring deep within.
The beast was awake and it was angry. A presence stormed into my body, sucking at my blood and paralysing me with venom. I felt the darkness in me stirring, ripping inside me like a hurricane as it fought against the bonds restraining my magic.
Everything burned, everythinghurt.
Mama ripped Yaga from her feet, long vines curling around her legs and snaking over her throat.Too late. Too fucking late. I watched in horror as the blood kept pouring into the ashes until they seemed to shiver with a pulse of magic, the ground beneath that pile of dust crumbling and cracking.
Yaga faced me, a triumphant smile curving her lips, her eyes still black with the lustful swell of dark magic. She bared her teeth, slicing at the vines around her feet and throwing herself at my mother. The two writhed on the ground, grappling with each other.
“Mama!” I shrieked, watching helplessly. I thrashed against my bonds, the manacles sending hot blood trickling down my wrists and ankles. Panic clawed at my heart as Yaga slashed Mama’s face with dark magic, tendrils of black piercing her skin.No, no, no.
“Death,” I managed to choke out, blood dribbling from my lips. “If you’re watching, now’s the fucking time.”
The scars at my back rippled, surging with a cold bite of pain. He popped into existence, black robes swirling madly, his skeletal hand outstretched. With a click, he parted the sea of bodies fighting, throwing everyone back until they sprawled on the ground.
He pulled a smoky rope from his pocket and, with a snap, it speared through the clearing, past the cave and into the trees. A hiss sounded as the cord went taut and he hauled, piece by piece, until Fate came into view, arms bound and teeth bared.
She shrieked, her beautiful face contorting, eyes narrowed as she stared at the commotion. When her eyes met Death’s face, she stiffened, fear clouding those hard blue gems.
“Darling,” he purred. “How I have missed you so.” Coiling a lock of golden hair around one bone finger, he tugged her to his chest. “You’ve been ever so busy, scheming your treachery in the Middle World, but I think it’s overdue you took a little trip downstairs, don’t you? We haveso muchto talk about.”
His voice deepened, rumbling in warning and her eyes hardened to chips of ice, darting to the blood still misting over Sylvie’s remains. I’d expected anger in that lovely face, but her lips cut a harsh line as she looked pointedly at me.
“I will return, mortal. That crown will be mine and I will rule this world. And the next.”
Death gagged her mouth with a smoky cord, then looked at me, cocking his head. I nodded in understanding. He had dealt with one threat and would call on the bargain I’d struck. But finding the lost crown was a problem for another day.
The last thing I saw was Death whisking them away on smoky wings, the shadows of his face forming a demon’s smile. As I watched the cloud of blood above the urn turn to darkness and shadow, my heart sank, the faint outline of a body taking shape behind that whirlwind.
Sylvie was back. Fate had won.
I scanned the clearing. Mama was still battling with Baba Yaga and Erika was in the thick of the battle, her blades glittering in the firelight as she swirled and slashed like a dancer. Her beautiful face was set in a stern mask. Unfaltering, unforgiving. I watched as she wielded blade and power, her earth magic rupturing the ground beneath the cultists and sending many to an early grave.
András roared beside her, his eyes black as night as he summoned the dead to his bidding. All around, men and women fell in droves. A bloodbath, a massacre.
There was only one person left to call on.
