Page 47 of Fate Unchained

Kyril grabbed her and rolled. She was on the floor, his body on top of hers. The warehouse trembled beneath her. Wood cracked, and the entire building rumbled as if the earth quaked.

She peered over Kyril’s shoulder. Whatever Boris had detonated blew away half the warehouse. The roof was gone, and the walls had blown out, leaving a gaping hole leading out to the landing. “Are you all right?” She scrambled to her knees. Kyril was covered in blood, lacerations all along his back. He put a hand to his ear, and it came away bloody.

The two other vulk lay in a heap against a remaining wall, also covered with blood.

Gaze unfocused, Kyril staggered to his feet. Speckled glittery liquid dotted his fur and smoked slightly. Lilah yelped. It had to be silver. And silver and the vulk didn’t mix.

In one motion, she shrugged off her coat, then wiped at the substance.

“The vulk never did understand anything beyond their own claws.” Boris stood a few feet from them, his feet slightly splayed but otherwise looking untouched. He withdrew something else from his shirt. “There are many other ways to fight.”

Boris muttered under his breath, and the icy chill of powerful magic flooded the room. An open book fluttered in his hand, the same one he’d shown her back in the library.

The grimoire! Boris thumbed to a page and smiled his same, smug smile.

What could she do? Her heart pounded so hard she thought it would burst through her ribs. None of her runes for unbinding closed books was going to help her now. Or would they?

She squared her shoulders and faced him. One palm facing out, she murmured a runic word. Boris’s pages snapped together.

His head jerked up, and he hissed. “Unlock it.”

Kyril snarled and lunged, but he was slow. Boris sidestepped and grabbed a broken plank. Swinging, Boris cracked him across his arm and shoulder. Kyril swayed.

“It doesn’t matter if the book is closed. I remember.” Boris spoke runic words aloud, but they sounded twisted. Strange. Pain burst like she’d been stabbed in the heart. The golden rune on her chest ripped free and sprang into the air. Two black, smoky runes smothered it, binding it into place between them.

She gasped and fell to her knees, pressing a hand to her chest. She took her palm away, expecting it to be coated in blood, but there wasn’t any. Boris yelled a few last words, and the building shook again. A creature clawed up through a hole in the floor. Glowing, deep-set green eyes in an elk skull. Lilah screamed and jumped backward.

A leshak.

Kyril stepped in front of her, Finn and Zann joining him. Silver streaked across their fur, but they all stood solidly, ready to fight. The leshak swooped, and the vulk attacked. The battle was fast, all four figures only blurs. Lilah stood frozen for a moment, then scrambled backward. The desk had fallen over in the explosion, but it had remained intact. A glitter caught her eye.

The cepl.

Lilah reached down and picked it up. The handle was built to hold in a closed fist, and the blade curled up over the knuckles, the sharp edge pointing outwards. It was intended to be used in a punching and slashing motion.

Better than nothing.

The vulk and the leshak fought down the mangled hallway toward the landing, but Boris remained behind. Waiting. Lurking.

Lilah’s feet were moving before she had any kind of plan in place. She yelled and slashed the cepl down. It bit into Boris’s forearm, black blood splashing across her hand. He jerked backward, dropping the book.

Boris roared, but the grimoire was free.

Lilah tucked it to her chest and ran. Out on the landing, the three vulk smashed into the leshak, tossing it to the ground. It hissed a loud, rattling breath. “Go for the jaws,” yelled Zann.

Kyril snarled and grabbed the leshak’s head. Lilah sprinted forward, her feet digging into the snow. A hand grabbed her arm and spun her around. Boris reached for her, his eyes glowing green like the leshak’s.

She screamed.

Kyril was in front of her in an instant, ramming his shoulder into Boris. Boris ripped the cepl from her hand and swung. His fist, gripping the cepl, bit deep into Kyril’s side. Kyril kicked him in the chest, and Boris fell backward over the landing, screaming. As he fell, a blast of fire sprang from his fingertips, launching into the side of the building.

The landing groaned, shuddered once, then pitched forward. “Jump!” Kyril grabbed her around her waist and leaped.

Trees blurred past as they fell into the inky darkness of the river.

She hit the icy water face first. The cold was so intense it knocked the air from her lungs. She flailed, her pants and shirt heavy, as if they wanted to pull her to the bottom.

Kyril was next to her, but he was barely moving. Her head broke the surface, and she sucked in air. “Make for the bank,” she shouted.

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