Fluffy’s hackles lifted, a pungent odor filling the air. His greatest defense. Few could withstand the stinging aroma. He bared his sharp little teeth and screeched so loudly while spinning in circles.
The immortals cringed and stepped back. But they didn’t flee.
The taller vampire rubbed pale hands together. “Look at the high and mighty goddess now. Dressed in rags and covered in filth. Finally, the outside matches the inside.”
Viola flinched. Someone lifted a sword, the metal gleaming in the moonlight. Rallying what little strength she had left, she climbed to her feet. Standing between her baby and her enemies. Or teetering between her baby and her enemies.
“Hello, gentlemen,” she said with as much nonchalance as she could muster. “I’m so glad you found me. Are you here for the forgiveness seminar, too? Let’s attend together. I hear there’s a banquet afterward.”
“I will enjoy shredding your body into too many pieces to count.” The berserker’s voice dripped with relish.
“You can have her body,” the second vampire said, “but only after we’ve drained it.”
“Fluffy,” she intoned, and he knew her well enough to guess her expectation.
He leaped into her arms as the trio lunged for her—just as she’d hoped. At the last possible moment, Viola used what remained of her strength to mist herself and her trembling pet, becoming intangible. The men hit the trunk and stumbled back, cursing.
She tried to run, but her legs failed her. Weakness settled into her limbs.
Within seconds, her misting ability failed her too, and she began to solidify. Fluffy possessed the same ability, and he was able to utilize it, returning them to their insubstantial state. She tiptoed away, but it was too late. Again, she began to solidify, Fluffy’s strength depleted as much as hers. Everyone circled them.
“Go,” she commanded Fluffy. “Fetch Br—Cameo.” The Forsaken had missed his chance. He’d declined her goods and services. Now, Cameo and her new husband were up to bat. “In Budapest,” she added.
The couple currently stayed in the Underworld, where Fluffy couldn’t travel. He could only flash places he’d previously visited, and Viola avoided the Underworld at all costs. Too many admirers awaited her. But Fluffy would be safe in Budapest. By the time he figured out the truth, Viola would be victorious or dead.
The trio drew closer, forming a circle around her. Aggression pulsed from them.
“She’ll help me.” Truth. Cameo would absolutely help…if she could. But she couldn’t.
Though frantic, Fluffy obeyed, flashing to Budapest.
Alone with her would-be attackers, Viola clutched her mutilated arm to her chest and grinned. “Shall we proceed?”
One of the vampires grabbed a handful of her hair and forced her to her knees, jostling her. Ripples of agony blurred her vision. Pass out here, now? No! She refused. But though she fought, darkness crept closer and closer.
“Tsk, tsk. You should have been nicer to me,” the berserker said with a grin of his own.
As he popped the bones in his hands, the darkness swallowed her whole, and Viola knew nothing more.
Chapter Twelve
Brochan flashed to the fortress in Budapest, exactly as he’d done for the past four days since Viola’s disappearance. Just in case. Desperation had become his constant companion. As he moved from room to room, disappointment set in. No sign of his goddess or her friends yet.
He visited the Downfall to question Xerxes. Or Thane. Or Bjorn. Anyone would do. None were there. The world conspired against him.
McCadden remained in the abandoned realm, interrogating anyone Brochan brought to him. Meaning, anyone Viola had spoken to in the past who might know her whereabouts today. He’d gone from one realm to another, visiting all her favorite places and rounding everyone up.
The abandoned realm missed her greatly—and protested mightily. The oasis had already dried up.
Farrow spent the time tracking Forsaken, unwilling to let them find the goddess first. Her dedication remained unwavering.
Brochan braced to flash to a world he had yet to search. Only forty-two others to go. A familiar noise caught his attention, and he paused. His eyes widened. Fluffy? Heart drumming, he appeared in different hallways until he found the devil-dog racing through a bedroom, frantic.
When Viola’s pet noticed him, it halted, though awful sounds continued to leave it. Blood splattered its fur, both wet and dry.
Panic infused his every cell. “Where is she?” Brochan turned left, right, shouting, “Viola? Viola!”
The devil-dog spun in circles, the only response Brochan received.
She wasn’t here? “Please, take me to her. Let me help her. I need to help her.” The animal always seemed to understand Viola, obeying her wishes. He prayed the same was true for him. “I’ll protect her. This, I swear.”
He had hated this creature for so long. Now, he had to rely on its—his—mercy.
“Please,” Brochan pleaded.
Fluffy lunged at him, sinking sharp teeth into his calf. Brochan let him, unwilling to harm the—the fortress vanished, a forest surrounding him only a second later. The devil-dog had flashed him?
Relief morphed into alarm when he spotted blood but not Viola. He scented…multiple vampires and a berserker. Males. His claws extended, sharpening as he leaped into motion. He followed the blood.
Fluffy raced ahead of him, taking the lead. If the males had harmed his goddess…
Rage overtook him. They will pay with their lives.
Leaves and branches slapped his arms and grazed his wings. His bare feet stomped upon rocks, grinding them into powder.
His ears twitched. Gleeful laughter. Cheers. Eight distinct voices. There! Brochan picked up speed and burst through a wall of thorny foliage.
A group of immortals came into view. Twenty-two individuals, mostly male with only a few females. An assortment of species. The vampires and berserker Brochan had scented before, plus a handful of shifters, warlocks and banshees. They stood in a circle, surrounding something—or someone—too enraptured by whatever was happening in the center of the circle to notice him.
“Not so boastful now, are you?” a banshee called, earning multiple snickers.
Brochan didn’t stop to ask questions. He struck. The banshees, the most dangerous beings, dropped first. He slashed his claws through their throats, silencing them before they could scream. As they collapsed, the others noticed him, gearing to attack.
Too late. He swiped with his wings, knocking half the group to the ground—in pieces. To his astonishment, Fluffy fought at his side, preventing a vampire from sneaking up on him.
A pale form capped by twig-tangled blond hair came into view, and Brochan nearly lost it. Viola was on her knees, her arms tied to a stake behind her back. Her head hung low, a gag stuffed into her mouth. Dirt and blood smeared her from head to toe. Her gown remained on her body by only a few threads.
His confident goddess looked…broken.
His knees shook. The urge to go to her assailed him. Resisting tore him apart but resist he did. These people had harmed her. They must suffer.
Vision redlining, he attacked with renewed vigor, slashing through their numbers without mercy. Laughter and snickers became screams. He ensured every blow caused maximum pain and damage.