Page 23 of Hex
At the snap of a finger, we both whisper against each other’s lips.
“Fenrir.”
From there, everything moves at warp speed.
My bow and arrows are in my hands as Slay, Pierce, and Slash stand beside me. One of the valkyries takes a very uncooperative Sage with her to safety while the other two unsheathe their blessed weapons.
The howls continue, getting louder and louder as the entrance trembles and the rocks tumble down faster and faster.
Fenrirs are fucking rare, and I can’t remember ever having to go head to head against one, but I guess what they say is true; there’s a first for everything.
“Fucking fenrirs. I could’ve gone an entire existence without facing one.” Slash is ready for battle. Always is, to be honest. “How big is this fucker?”
We’re all staring at the wall, anticipating the exact moment the monster will leap out of the cave, but there’s no doubt the question is aimed at the valkyries.
“Really fucking big.” Sashayne isn’t much help with the specifics but at least we’re mentally preparing for a huge battle.
“Bring it the fuck on. They tortured Sage. They have to pay.” With every one of my words, the rocks take up more space on the ground. A small opening at the top of the cave gets bigger and bigger, as though there’s a direct correlation between that and the intensity of the fenrir’s howls.
It’s clear our adrenaline levels are skyrocketing, giving us just enough courage to face what could very well be our last fight. Fenrirs are more beast than anything. Their empathy levels are pretty much the same as a lump of coal. It won’t care that he stole my soul mate. He has a master and he followed rules. That’s it.
Before this shit goes south, I look over my shoulder to check on Sage, who’s standing stock-still with her hands covering her mouth. She’s far enough away that if the fenrir were to get through us, Lathuneh would have the time to run her to safety through the nearest portal.
When I turn back around, the massive paw of the oversized wolf wannabe whips through the hole and in one fell swoop, knocks down the rest of the rocks.
“Game time, motherfuckers.” Slash gives his war cry and we all crouch with our weapons ready to go.
As soon as I see flesh, my arrows start flying, but it’s clear pretty fucking quickly that his skin is nearly impenetrable.
“We’re gonna need a bigger weapon.” Only Slash catches myJawsreference, fist bumping me as he pulls out his second sword.
“Time to double fist it, brother.” Fucking hilarious. The closer the danger, the harder he gets. There’s a reason he’s the horseman of war.
As the sons of Loki, fenrirs are formidable opponents, and no one I know has survived a battle with them. Problem is, with peace time, they’ve been used mostly for con jobs or shit that’s forbidden by the laws of the Thirteen Dei.
Clearly, this asshole has been the guardian to Sage’s prison, and if I ever meet Loki, I’ll fucking slap him across the head for being so damn careless.
The giant wolf barrels through and we’re stunned silent for a brief moment as his almost neon eyes scan us, assessing the threat, before lowering his head and snarling with teeth bigger than our fucking legs. Don’t even get me started on the unnecessary amount of drool that’s flooding the space between us.
“If we survive this, I’ll personally bring flowers to the Moirai temple.” Ever the realist, Pierce is preparing for the worst. I get it, this monster of a beast seems impenetrable, but I’ll be damned if this is how we go down. No fucking way. Not when Sage and I are so close to our forever.
One more glance over my shoulder and I lose the fucking plot.
There’s something wrong with Sage.
She wasn’t like this a moment ago.
“What the fuck?” My attention is divided between the mammoth of a wolf counting the ways he’s going to chomp down on our torsos and the profound need to run to Sage and do…what?
Standing in the same spot, she now has her arms spread out to the sides, her head thrown back and her mouth wide open.
Before the others follow my line of sight, the earth trembles all over again with a scream to rival the sirens’ in pain.
Even the Fenrir freezes, his narrowed eyes fixed on Sage.
Not on my fucking watch, you motherfucker.
I take advantage of this moment to fire off a dozen magic-infused arrows into his eyes with enough power that I’m hoping it will reach his brain matter. Or something important enough to take him down, at least. It’s in moments like these that I’m most grateful for the spell on my weapon of choice. Where I do love to kill my enemies in hand-to-hand combat, hacking away at their limbs and organs, I love the beauty of aiming an arrow and watching it do my bidding. Especially when I have an unlimited amount at my disposal. My quiver fills back up as quickly as I aim the arrows.
