Page 22 of Blood from the Marrow
Moving with a grace that seemed out of place in the melee, Lib reached for Zuri, who stood with clenched fists and fury in her eyes. Marisol knew by the furrow in her brow that Zuri would not take a backseat. Not willingly.
“Zuri,” Marisol cried with a humiliating stress fracture in her voice. “Please.”
There was no way they were going to take on a room full of vampires. Not without a plan. But there was no plan. Just chaos. Pure, terrifying chaos. She needed Zuri to get out of the way. To survive.
Attention darting between Marisol and the rest of the room, Zuri ducked when Sofia leapt over her to tackle the vampire who’d materialized behind her. Decision made, Zuri darted forward, landing on her knees before scrambling to her feet next to Marisol.
“Are you okay?” Zuri inspected the gouges Librada’s nails had left on her shirt.
“I’m fine,” she lied through a dry mouth and frantic pulse. “How do we get them out of here?”
Zuri stood at her side, probably wishing her vision matched the speed of the vampire’s movements like Marisol did. At the center of the mayhem, Sayah and Elena circled each other. There was something unnatural about watching them prepare to fight in their fancy clothes. It highlighted how wrong it all was.
From measured movements to a sudden pounce, Sayah lunged. Marisol clutched Zuri when what she wanted to do was run toward Elena.
“Elena is strong,” Zuri said like she was willing it to be true. “We’ll get out of this.”
It was impossible to see exactly what was happening. They moved in blurs, breaking bottles and glass as they fought. Sayah and her six vampires had everyone locked in a one-on-one fight.
Marisol settled herself, shoving away the terror making her heart pound in her throat. Sayah probably hadn’t planned on her and Zuri doing anything. They had to use that to their advantage, but Marisol wasn’t a military tactician. She didn’t know how to turn a tide.
When the cyclone of movement slowed, Marisol’s heart went into free fall. Sayah’s mouth opened unnaturally wide andripped into Elena’s shoulder. Losing the feeling in her knees when Elena screamed in pain, Marisol let out her own cry. She willed herself to run toward her, but Narine moved first.
“Elena!” Narine broke free from the vampire who’d left a gash across her face and dove between Elena and Sayah.
Sayah’s fangs found their mark, sinking deep into Narine’s throat. A gurgle of blood, the sickening crunch of bone—Narine’s scream was cut short. Her body crumpled to the floor.
Despite the betrayal, Elena, holding her injured arm close to her body, tried to pull Narine back to her feet. From the way she hung lifeless in Elena’s grasp, it was obvious that it was too late. The sudden, brutal sacrifice bought Elena only seconds, but it was enough for Marisol to see the next move.
Before Marisol could warn Elena, Sofia, covered in blood, a dead vampire at her feet, launched herself at Sayah. But Sayah was too quick, too strong. With a cruel laugh Marisol would never erase from her memory, Sayah caught Sofia by the throat, crushing her windpipe before slamming her to the stone floor.
Immediately, Marisol knew it had been a fatal attack. By the color changing on Sofia’s skin, she was sure that oxygen and blood supplies to her brain had been cut off. There were precious moments to act.
Librada, face pale, struggled against a vampire who had her by the throat. Zuri leapt forward.
As soon as Zuri pressed her palms to the vampire’s head, she released Librada and bit into Zuri’s forearm to make her let go. But it only made Zuri double down, her magic a tangible force that choked the air. She released an animalistic scream, eyes blazing, and forced the vampire into her worst nightmare.
It was a small victory, but they were outnumbered. Overwhelmed. She had to do something.
On her back, Librada clutched at the deep gash across her own throat.
“More pressure,” Marisol screamed, covering Librada’s hands with her own and showing her just how hard she’d have to press to stem the blood while waiting for her body to repair itself. With blood pouring from the jagged wounds, Librada needed to heal immediately or she was going to exsanguinate.
Zuri released the vampire, who ran screaming and burst open the cellar door. Without needing to be told, Zuri took over Marisol’s job and covered the wound on Lib’s neck. More blood than Marisol had ever seen painted Zuri’s hands and the floor. Everywhere Marisol looked was drenched in nightmarish red.
“You can’t fucking die, you hear me?” Zuri yelled at Librada, clearing the vacant expression that had settled over the vampire’s graying face. “You can’t do that to Elena,” she shouted, like she knew the magic words to keep Librada in the fight for her life.
Letting instinct take over, a wave of energy, raw and untamed, surged through Marisol. She didn’t try to contain the force, reaching for it instead. Like she’d done the night before, she pulled the ripcord and unleashed her wings—solid white and vibrating with the most power she’d ever felt.
“Finally a fair fight,” Sayah said in open delight. “I’d heard about those pretty little wings, but I didn’t believe it.”
Stepping on the back of the armchair, Marisol flung herself forward. In a blast of gathering energy, she willed Sayah backward. Her expression changed from amusement only when she stumbled backward from the force of Marisol’s wings.
Hurrying to Sofia’s side, Marisol placed her hands gently on her throat. Instead of blindly hoping she could help, she imagined the damaged parts of her anatomy. Crushed hyoid and obstructed arteries and damaged cervical vertebrae. She poured herself into them, imagining new blood circulating fresh oxygen back to the dying tissue.
When Sofia’s eyes sprang open and she took a gasping breath with blue lips, Marisol reached for Narine’s crumpled body. She’d known the moment she touched her that she’d lost too much blood. That there wasn’t an ember of life for her stoke.
“It’s too late,” Elena said in a voice that didn’t sound anything like hers. It was heavy with grief and pain and shock.
