Chapter 27:
Behind Enemy Lines
Margret finishes throwing together
the rest of her things in a small duffle bag that holds the minimal. The camp
is now almost all packed away, with little trace they were ever there. Vehicle
tracks visible in the mud will vanish after a few rains.
Margret throws the bag over her
shoulder and walks toward Colm and the unipegs.
He shoots her a sideways grin,
“You okay?”
“Yea,” she forces, her stomach
wrestling in knots with the thought of walking into a battle.
“Hey!” Lucas calls from across
the yard, carrying an appearance of chain mail, Dominious assisting him with the
load, it flapping from her arms.
“What have you gotten there?” She
calls letting her eyes meet Colm’s whom shrugs his shoulders with a smirk.
Lucas and Dominious set down the
bulky pieces in front of them. “Armor.” He announces. “For the unipegs.”
“Armor?” she grins.
“Yea, I’ve been working on it.
Opal and Nacreous were quite cooperative once I tried to explain…” Lucas shoots
his eyes toward Colm.
“You know about this?” she eyes
Colm whom again shrugs with a smirk.
Lucas picks up the mask, “May I?”
“Yes, Opal, obviously doesn’t
mind.” Margret stands out of the way so he can fasten the mask the muzzle. “I
had this idea to keep them safe, especially they could be easy targets in
flight. It appears as chain mail but doesn’t have the heaviness. It was approved
and…” he turns towards Dominious, “Other piece please?” she hands him the body
shield and he carefully places it around the wings, “I know your weapons come equipped
with some shield protection, but if you aren’t on them the whole time… I’m sure
it’s plain compared to what you’re planet might have come up with.” He winks toward
Colm finishing the latch on Opal’s attire.
“Nacreous it is your turn.” He
grabs the other armor.
“Wow, he looks amazing. You look
amazing, Opal.” Margret taps him. “It’s very sleek and form fitting.”
“Bullet proof underneath. Same
stuff law enforcement and well, I wear.”
Lucas informs finishing up Nacreous’ final latches.
“Well, done,” Colm nods to Lucas
embracing him into a partial hug, “Thank you so much for your generosity.”
“The honor is mine.” Lucas nods.
“I need to go catch my ride.”
“Dominious is riding with you?”
Margret wonders.
“She is. And the Commander, along
with Zulima.” Lucas informs.
“Okay,” she nods giving approval,
though she knows the decision wasn’t hers to make.
Margret’s eyes shift toward
Dominious, whom has already checked out of the conversation, anxiously
fidgeting as she observes soldiers loading the vehicles.
“We will meet at our next
destination. Thank you again for taking care of our friends.” Colm goes in for
a hug and Lucas stops him.
“Handshake works, mate.” He
smirks taking Colm’s hand and giving it a quick shake. “Margret,” he nods head,
“Safe flight. I will see you both on the outskirts.”
Margret watches for a moment as
Dominious follows behind him showing little expression upon her pale face.
“What do you think she’s
feeling?” Margret turns toward Colm.
Colm steps into Margret, pulling
her torso against him, “I think the same thing as all of us.” He tilts his head
toward her pressing his forehead against hers. “You okay?”
“You already know I’m not,” her
voice trails.
“We all feel….” Colm begins.
“Don’t.” she softly interrupts.
“I feel your optimism. It often trumps your fear.”
“Not trumped. Redirected.” He
kisses her forehead. “Look at me.” He tips her chin toward him. His eyes feel
as they gaze through her skull, grasping at every nerve center, trickling until
grabbing her heart, tugging at it. She gives a forfeiting sigh, wrapping her
arms around his waist.
“I don’t know if I will ever be
comfortable with these feelings. What you do to me.” Her voice barely reaches
her mouth.
“It’s not what I do, it’s who we
are.” He leans in passionately kissing her as if they were the only two
standing among the armies.
“Yo! You two ready?” a voice
calls across the field.
Commander DuPont stands over the
open vehicle door.
Margret hides her face into
Colm’s chest as he calls over, “All ready, sir.”
Margret peels her body away from
Colm, ready to mount Opal. Colm suddenly tugs on her hand, “We’re just going to
the front lines. It is only another journey.”
She forces a smile while hopping
on Opal, giving him a pat on the neck. “Let’s do this.”
*******
The front line. The moment that
everyone gathers before officially going into battle; making sure the plans are
secure and flawless, setting up for war. Against vampires.
Margret lays her head on Opal for
a moment, muffling the noise around her, taking a deep breath. She allows the
moment to feel their spiritual connection, a moment of a feeling…her heart steals a double beat. “Love you, Opal.” She
kisses his nape before dismounting, seeing Colm eagerly awaiting her only feet
away with Nacreous.
She inflates her cheeks a bit,
posing a grin for Colm and he meets her half way. “Don’t pretend.” He whispers
to her, guiding her toward the other Ceapaens.
“Pretending what?” she ask
offended.
“You’re okay. You wear your
emotions.” He reminds her.
She scoffs, “I am haunted by the
man who gunned down an entire restaurant. I ran away. Now I’m about to run into
gunfire, by vampires, no less, who are almost indestructible. I don’t think any
of us are okay.”
Dominious intrudes in the
conversation, “Try being a vampire,
so powerful and then adjusting to being mortal. My body feels fragile. I’m not
coming out of this alive. But I don’t care. My agenda is what will make me powerful.”
Colm and Margret both stop,
staring at Dominious. “You will come out of this alive,” Margret finds herself
suddenly sympathetic and convincing.
“You don’t believe that…” Colm press solemnly against Margret’s
conscious.
She pushes him out, “If we
believe we will die, we will. You are more powerful than any of us; you know
exactly how the vampire body works. The weakness of the vampire. You are our
biggest hope of defeat.”
“I won’t go down without a fight.
Queen Sultana deserves the worse.” The furry in her eyes appear to blaze,
quickly fizzling at the sound of Lucas’ voice.
“Mates!” he calls, cheerful as
ever, waving his arm to the air.
Their heads swing toward him,
Zulima with the warriors and healers another direction, as if the three of them
were the center of a committee. Margret scans the area, a groups falling into
formations, groups she has never seen before, all appearing human, yet the
cultural appeal was nothing she had witness on Earth.
Margret’s hand is suddenly
wrapped in Zulima’s and her fingers naturally wrap between her delicate, silken
tips. Natika’s wings subtly brush against Margret’s arm as she passes,
wrapping herself in Colm’s arms, but the visual rolls off Margret’s bitterness,
they were all in jeopardy of not being able to feel one another again.
The Cepaen people embrace one another;
console, comfort and reassure while the Earthling armies giving inspirational
monologues.
“Zeebla is fashioned in the
burning oranges and reds; the representation fits them well for their planet.
Brenton and Misha are to lead their people.” Zulima’s words are slow spoken,
unhurriedly parting between her lips.
Margret searches for Zulima’s
focus, spotting a male and female chatting amongst them, laughing and relaxed.
Misha was dark complexion, her black hair twisted in braids leading to a
tightly fit roll secured to the top of her head. Misha’s lean body was wrapped
in tight orange suit, backless, blazes around the leg, peaks to her bare skin.
Brenton was stalky; his hair
white, orange color peaks the tips that spike above his head. His red tethered
pants cling to every inch of his body, boldly drawing attention to his
well-endowed crouch. His black shirt appears ripped; allowing a preview of his broad
pecs. His style reminds Margret of an eighty’s rock star but his built was much
more of a wrestler.
They chatted amongst their people,
as if little fear hovered.
“What are their weapons?” Margret
finds her wondering thought escaping her lips before she has a chance to
process it fully.
Zulima, off guard thinks for a
moment, “You would refer to it as whip? Their reference is a ‘LaGoad.’ If you notice the bands on their upper arms,
it fashions into their weapon easily, much like our swords and bows. It makes
for easy grab.”
“Wow, they reek of coolness.”
Margret finds a grin. “The people…not just
their weapons…”
“They have a few other weapons,”
Zulima continues, “The ‘LaGoad’ is
usually of choice.” Her attention now focuses on the Planeteers coming to
interact with the Zeebla people as they greet one another, “Their planet is
YaKayo. Czar Umberto and Herminia leave Ceallach to lead the planet. The femme
that strolls in the center.”
Margret searches over the people
and as they spread amongst the Zeeblings she spies a woman with long black
hair, tightly pulled away from her face, olive skin, shorter yet muscular, her
abs bare, and breast lifted in a halter.
“They have many weapons…” Zulima
continues as if Margret has already inquired, “Mostly using the VoltaicRapier. I do not know what you
would refer to it as…” Zulima continues, “To your left is Planet Joko…”
“Wait,” Margret interrupts, “So,
the VoltaicRapier would be like an
electrical sword?”
“Precisely,” Zulima answers trying
to continue with her introductions.
“Do you know how epic it is to be
the planet with an electric sword? That is almost like a…” Margret doesn’t get
to finish her thought as they are interrupted.
“Dear, Zulima,” a tall thin man
smiles, his white teeth almost invisible to his porcelain skin.
“Dear, Tushar.” Zulima warmly
smiles leaning in with an embrace.
“Allow me to introduce, Margret.
Proudly she is an Amalgam.” Zulima
slightly nudges her forward and Margret is suddenly pulled into a frigid hug by
Tushar. His body feels like a morgue corpse but his hands are clammy, pulling
hers into his, arms lengths and admiring.
“My eyes bestow a faithful Amalga; willing to stand among her
descents during the shift Planeteers has come to settle upon.” He gives a lasting
awe before allowing her hands to slide against her thighs.
“Tushar has been a cherished
friend of mine since we were children. Our planets have found great comfort in
one another over the lifetimes.” Zulima explains.
“I didn’t realize,” Margret
warmly returns the introduction, “It is my pleasure in meeting you.”
Margret finds that they are now
surrounded amongst the people that Tushar represents. “And their weapon of
choice…” Zulima concludes.
Tushar chuckles, “We, DaSowdians
are the weapon in itself, I suppose. At least that is what the planet Earth
perceives.”
“I do not follow…” Margret feels
lost with their inside jokes.
Tushar holds out his hand, his
fingers forging into a cup position, the bright blue veins pulsing at his
wrist, a hard ice crystal begins to form in his palm. “What is your color of
choice?” his eyes squint.
“Uh….” Margret tries to quickly
think, not really having a color preference, “Blue, I guess?”
“Blue…” he repeats, and the icy
crystal’s hue slowly transform into an electric blue. “For you.” He hands it to
her.
She grasps the cold ice between
her fingers, “Wow.” She softly gasps.
“Editable if you choose.” He
chuckles toward Zulima who widely grins.
Margret’s cheeks puff; she feels
she has never seen Zulima so joyful in enjoying someone’s company. ‘How was he not her soulmate?’ she
wonders.
‘Just friends.’ Margret hears an answer probing at her
thought.
She quickly turns finding Colm
across the way, winking at her.
“Excuse me.” She nods respectfully toward Zulima and Tushar. “And thank
you for the ice crystal. You have no idea the comic books you would be in, for
such a talent.” She snickers to herself,
grabbing one last glance as Tushar tries to process her words.
Margret finds herself against
Colm, “You know I find it annoying when you pry.” She pesters.
“I wanted your attention.” He
pecks her forehead with his lips pulling her tightly against his chest. “We
will be away from each other in battle.” His words soft. “It keeps me uneasy.”
“I will be okay,” she tries to
convince the both of them, “Just take care of Zulima. The other healers. To be
in battle unarmed…”
“The protective shields will be
available to them. They will survive.” He assures her, pulling her face to his.
“Come there is a few from the DaSow planet that are long friends of mine. You
will appreciate meeting them.”
He tugs on her hand and she leans
up placing the ice cycle on the back of his neck, forcing his body a chill. He
quickly turns toward her, his mouth resting on his chin, “You…” he chuckles and
she laughs disclosing the ice. “Too bad my souvenir is destined to melt.”
“My friends much outweigh yours
on this planet… and your one little
piece of ice.” He playfully reminds her trying to pry the crystal from her
hand, eventually surrendering her into a kiss.
********
Sultana’s fingers wrap around the
stone of the balcony, looking over the trees to a town, nonexistent when her
long ago ancestors walked these lands.
She only wanted to take back all they have lost for so many years. A
place where the sun would shine, amazing eclipse would prevail themselves, a
place all her subjects had once called home before they left, fearful for their
lives. The prejudice and persecutions they have faced on this planet, would now
be brought to justice.
“My Queen.” Lucius steps out into
the breeze.
“I am aware.” She breathes in,
deeply staring over the trees.
“Then you are aware only two
planets have gone to find Dart. All other Planeteers are with the Union
Countries of Earth… ready…” she cuts off his explanation, turning her body and
perching against the stone.
“She’s useless.” Sultana ponders
for a moment, “What preparations have you already placed?”
“Our old and new armies are prepared
in all major cities. In these areas we will use ambush tactics. I also have a
perimeter of ambush surrounding your castle. Our army will lead the enemy to
the ambush team.” He discloses.
“I want the new born Romania’s in
front of all lines. I want their men, women and children whom are found alive
or dead, used as shields.” She sways past him deep in thought.
“The united nations and
Planeteers calibrated much more quickly than we expected. The armies outweigh our people twenty to one.”
He eases into the reminder.
Her hips stop swaying and she
holds her posture still, gritting her teeth. “Is this your way of informing me
we’ve lost a battle we have not yet began to fight?”
“My Queen, I hope your knowledge
leads to remember that the word lose is
not in my vocabulary.” His voice becomes intense.
She turns to him, “Thank you,
Lucius, for the reminder. I appreciate hearing it.” Her hands fold into one
another, “I want you here with me.”
“Our soldiers are week without my
commands.” He steps to her. “We will take no prisoners. We will kill
unmerciful, for if they have made the choice to battle us, they will know we
battle to bloodshed. We will take many lives; let them not forget we are
mighty.”
He tilts his head toward her and
then begins toward the door.
“Lucius.” She stops him, “Do not
allow your life to be taken.”
“My, Queen, I will assure you,
that I will do everything in my power to return to you.”
******
Margret’s knees are weakening by
the visual of soldiers unloading weapons and prepping brigades. She tries not
to slump her body over Opal, sitting tall next to Colm who straddles Nacreous.
Neither of them makes effort to tap the others soul, trying to conceal their
nerves.
She turns her head to him and he
gives a forced smile, one she will never forget as he has never had to falsify
being optimistic. There was worry buried in his forehead and a lump in his
throat; Margret suddenly felt the urge to comfort him for once.
She dismounts Opal, tapping his
nape, turning to Nacreous and stroking her velvet, pearl skin, sliding her
fingers against the three-dimensional metallic on her chest; finally she rest
her palm upon Colm’s knee. She struggles to finds words, and her body falls
against him as he leans in, stroking her shoulder. Her head tilts and her eyes
meet his, “You know you are coming out of this alive.”
“It is not my life I fear. The
loss of others is the torture for the living.” Colm’s voice is flat; his eyes
focused on the trees, blowing against the wind that has gradually increased its’
speed.
Margret knew he was right, but
quickly searches for words to smooth over his haunting thoughts. “It looks like
rain.” The words stumble out of her mouth, an obvious observation.
Colm dismounts Nacreous, wrapping
Margret into his arms immediately, grasping her tightly against his chest. His
heart thunders against her ear as she watches the final preparations made, readying
for battle. His cheek rest on her head and they both stand silent, what feels
like minutes, probably only seconds before Zulima approaches.
Colm and Margret are about to pry
their bodies apart but Zulima, unexpectedly, leans in hugging them both, her
longing gaze as a proud mother would admire her children. She delivers one last
longing look, patting them on the back, and then freeing them from her grasp.
“You both will meet again
after...” Zulima abandons the words but then continues, “I recognize it is not
ideal for you not to remain at one another’s side, but one of each Planeteer,
and Earth army, is to join the castle mission, and Margret’s possibility of
intuition through the darkness is vital.”
“I have had no visions since Dominious,
I think. I can’t have anyone relying on me to make decisions…” the worry in
Margret’s voice excels.
“No need to anguish yourself.
Lucas will be there to lead. Just if you do…You are to inform him. Expectations
are nonexistent.” She gently reminds her.
“It makes sense to have a healer
on board with us. Zulima, you should come with me.” She decides.
“A healer is collateral damage to
the mission. I am to give our planet inspiration as they move forward to
battle. It is I that represent Mother and Father.” Zulima wraps Margret’s hand
into hers.
“I can go with you. Zulima will be protected
entwined in the healer shield. I am a healer and have been trained for battle…” Colm presses against Margret’s thoughts.
She presses back, “You need to protect Zulima. You need to…”
Margret’s eyes shift toward Colm,
with a stern gaze, Zulima interrupts with a sighing laugh, “Please, do share.”
Margret and Colm spin their heads
to her with a bit embarrassment, flushed over their faces.
“I am the daughter of Mother and Father;
I’m too familiar with the visual of thought swapping. Please share.” Zulima’s
mouth purses, waiting for an answer.
“Colm, just had a silly idea
and…” Margret stammers, Colm grabbing the opportunity to chime in.
“I am a healer but now also a
warrior. I could go with them in the castle. Margret however, insists you need
my protection.” Colm gives a satisfactory smirk toward Margret as she rolls her
eyes.
“While I appreciate both points of view,
neither will be necessary.” Zulima insist.
Lucas approaches, reversing their
attention toward him, “It is time for final formations. Margret, you will
travel with us. There is an old escape tunnel they used from the castle. We
will enter that way.”
Margret gives him a nod, “Yes,
I’ll be right over.”
“Colm, Zulima…” Lucas nods, “No
matter what your belief, may God be with you.”
Lucas speeds off, avoiding lingering
words.
Margret turns to Zulima embracing
her in a lengthy hug before releasing, Zulima pecking against her forehead.
“Let the light be with you.” She leans in giving a short embrace to Colm and
repeats, “Let the light be with you.”
Her hand finds Margret’s giving
one last squeeze before allowing it to drop and trailing away. “Let’s do this.”
Margret, suddenly with a bout of confidence, she grabs Opal’s neck, ready to
jump but is yanked into Colm’s arms, smothered with a passionate kiss; their
tongues tangle, his hands clutching her buttocks, pressing her tight against
him.
For the moment, the wind against
the shuttering leaves is all that fills her ears. Margret’s heart pumps a power
that ravishes her body, allowing her soul a lifting, soaring moment. He finally
frees her, assisting her on Opal’s back. They stay silent, only glances of
reassurance, and forced, tight grins upon their face. He gives her hand a final
squeeze, now peering up at her, his voice forced, “Let the light be with you.”
Margret’s voice was lost and she
can only find it in herself to give a reassuring nod before pulling Opal away.
********
The woods are becoming dark as
the clouds continue to hover in thicker formations of gray. Dominious’ arms clutch
to Margret as they ride upon Opal, while the others walk. Lucas leads the
front, Margret to the back, with the other Planeteers and Earthlings centered.
There are eight all together; Lucas, from the German-Franco Brigade, Levente
from the Hungarian army, Misha, from the planet Zeebla, Cayden, from Yakayo,
Cirocco, representing Joko, and Eryi, coming from DaSow.
Everyone is quiet, even careful
not to step on lingering twigs, except Opal, seeming that he would try to stomp
down every branch that might touch his knees.
“You go on foot from here.” Lucas
stops everyone, breaking the silence, instructing Margret and Dominious, “Opal
will be safe.”
Lucas passes everyone to help
Dominious off the unipeg, trying to maneuver around his large wings. Margret
leans in whispering toward Opal’s ear, “I’ll let you know when I need your
assistance. Don’t stay if there is danger.”
Opal clearly understands, giving
a tap against the leaves and a short snort, and then pushing his muzzle against
her hand. She strokes the velvet before wrapping her arms around the armor
protecting his neck.
“Thanks for the ride, Opal.”
Dominious gives him a slight tap as she joins the others.
“Should she tie him up?” Levente tries to discreetly
lean into Lucas.
“No need.” Lucas informs him, now
directing everyone, “We will move to the passage exit, when we are close I will
use hand signals. Stay in twos to whom you have been partnered with. We each
understand where we are heading once we are out of the passage inside the
castle?” he scans the faces before him, as they nod in agreement. “Dominious
has informed me, the vampires main form of attack is ambush. Because you see no
one, expect them to always be there. Let us travel forward.”
Opal bellows a whinny as he stretches
his wings fully and lowers his horn. They pause for a moment, Margret translating,
“That is just his way of wishing us well.”
The group stays silent and begins
to walk on, but Lucas falls behind for a moment, giving Opal a reassuring tap
against the chain mail, “We will meet again, my friend.” He passes Margret and
Dominious and returns to the front of the line.
Dominious stays close to Margret,
whispering toward her, “Our goal is to find Sultana. Lucius will be on the
battle field, they will have the pleasure in killing him.” voice spitting hatred
as she continues to move forward.
“We need to stay level headed.”
Margret follows her, “Revenge can make us unfocused and week.”
“Revenge is what gives me power
and determination. They will suffer for what they have done to Figaro and every
child that burned in that village. For every mother that had to feel helpless.
I want them to have a slow death, tearing at every inch of them before killing
their black hearts.” Dominious stays focused on the path before her, avoiding
Margret’s judgmental eyes.
“You are a good person Dominious.
Torturing them will only torture you.” Margret tries to level her.
“Ugh,” Dominious tears away at a
vine before her, “Much easier be a vampire through woods; I feel so slow and
week as a mortal.”
Margret appreciates her trying to
change the subject but has little words for response. Dominious has been
through so much while returning to Earth; sometimes just letting her vent was
what she needed most.
Lucas comes to a halt. “We’re
here. Everyone approach smoothly. To the left will begin. We will try to draw
out the hiding.”
“Trees.” Dominious reminds Lucas,
“Likely to be up.”
He nods giving Misha and Eryi the
signal to move forward. They split from the group, heading toward the opening, surrounded
by few trees. There is silence in the air until the wind howls and now a flash
of lighting flickers in the sky, accompanied by a rumble of thunder.
Misha and Eryi head toward the
passage door with no interference. Misha yanks on the old door and it squeaks
open, only darkness on the other side.
Margret shares glances with the
others, Dominious leaning into Margret whispering in her ear, “They’re out
there.”
In that moment Margret wasn’t
exactly sure if she was referring to Misha and Eryi or the vampires, but
suddenly the clarity was obvious. Branches and twigs crack loudly behind the
remaining six, accompanied with snarl and growls.
Margret flings her body around,
falling backyard and tumbling down the hill. She struggles to find her footing,
catching a glimpse of Misha and Eryi running into the dark passage.
Dominious throws herself down the
hill, landing at Margret’s footing, and “Draw your weapon!” she screams at her
while transforming a ring upon her finger.
She aims it at a vampire leaping
toward them; disintegrate him in midair, then grabbing Margret’s hand and
dragging her to the tunnel, slamming the door behind them. It is pitch black,
she can barely see Dominious standing in front of her face.
“What happened back there?”
Dominious scolds.
“I…I…” Margret takes a deep
breath.
“Draw your weapon.” Dominious demands.
Margret slighting twist the ring
on her finger, allowing it to transform into her sword.
“Take your advice and stay level
headed,” Dominious mocks. “Or it will be my head that Colm and Lucas will have.
I am an enemy until I prove myself otherwise. Understand?”
Margret nods, “I’m ready, I just
didn’t expect them behind us…”
Dominious pushes forward abruptly
swinging her sword and beheading a vampire that leaps at them through the
darkness. Margret’s body jolts, not having time to realize it was there, “Be prepared
for anything. You’re not dealing with humans. They are speedy. Hunters.”
“Okay, I’m ready. Going to
pretend they are raptors.” Margret tries a pep talk with herself.
Dominious shoots an odd glance
her way, “Whatever you propose, just do it.”
Dominious tugs at her to follow, leading
her up the stairs through the narrow passage, “Watch your step,” Dominious
warns, stepping over an icy body. “Misha
and Eryi should’ve taken care of most through here; Doesn’t mean more won’t be
coming.” Dominious runs the sword through the body, shattering it to pieces, “He’d
still be alive if he’d ever thaw…”
“I didn’t notice they gave you a
sword.” Margret thinks, “I didn’t notice the ring at all.”
“They offered arrows, I’m no good
with them.” She says placing her palm on Margret’s chest halting her and
pointing up ahead.
A brim of light touches the crack
of a door, “Ready yourself,” Dominious whispers, anyone could be on the other
side.
Margret nods, following her as
they creep up to the opening. Dominious taps the door, letting it open wider.
Silence.
Dominious slinks her body out the
doorway, pressing her back against the door, signaling for Margret to lean
against the railing, they both slowly slide down the wooden stairs.
Without warning, Margret’s arm is
grabbed, swinging her over the rail, causing her sword to fling from grasp. Her
back thuds against the wooden floor, the shock tingling against her spine.
Dominious leaps over the railing,
ready for battle… but it is only Misha and Eryi.
“Apologies,” Misha extends her
arm pulling Margret to her feet, as she tries to rub the burn out of her back;
Eryi shoves her sword back into her hand.
“Anyone else make it through?”
Eryi asks as if no mistake was made.
“We went in after you,” Dominious
informs, “I closed the door to slow down any vampires that might follow.”
“We should move forward as planned,”
Misha decides, pulling the lagoad from her arm, resting it on her shoulder.
We split up as planned.” Eryi
confirms with a nod and without hesitation Misha and him slide out the door
before Margret and Dominious can respond.
“You’ve got your shit together?”
Dominious glares toward Margret.
“It’s together.” Margret stands
tall, “Let’s fuck up some vampires.”
