Curse Of The Aswangs (The Vasquez Brothers #1)[COMPLETED]

44:ZADE

 For a second, I thought about cracking a joke to break the tension. Yeah, we're about to get swarmed by aswangs, but what's a little impending doom without some snark?

I spotted the first aswang lunging at us, and before I could open my mouth, Trevor was already moving—sword flashing, slicing through the air with that whole "deadly grace" thing he's got going on. The sound of metal hitting flesh? Yeah, that's the sound of a successful swipe.

"Nice one, Trevor," I called out, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You'd make a great butcher."

Trevor didn't even bother looking at me, but I could tell he was rolling his eyes on the inside. He turned and sliced through another aswang without missing a beat.

Frankie was in the thick of it too, throwing salt like he was seasoning a steak. One of the aswangs screamed as the salt burned through its skin. I raised an eyebrow. Salt. Seriously?

"Salt? Really? What is this, a cooking show?" I shouted over the noise, dodging an incoming claw.

Frankie shot me a look, his face twisted in frustration, though I swear I saw the hint of a smile. "Would you shut up for once, Zade?"

"Hey, I'm just saying," I replied with a grin. "Throw in some garlic and we've got ourselves a full buffet."

Before Frankie could retort, Dylan blasted a group of aswangs with his light magic, holding them back like some kind of glowing superhero. I couldn't resist.

"Nice light show, Dylan. Too bad we're not selling tickets—we'd be rolling in it."

Dylan gave me a sharp look, his brow furrowed, but I could tell he was trying not to laugh. "Focus, Zade."

I blocked a swipe from another aswang and snorted. "Oh, I'm focused. Focused on staying alive, no thanks to you guys."

The battle was getting more intense. Trevor's sword was a blur, Frankie was chucking salt like his life depended on it (because, well, it did), and Dylan's magic flared like a mini-sun. Despite the chaos, my brain was ticking away. We had to make our move.

"Trevor, Frankie, Dylan!" Ash shouted, already planning our next steps. "You guys hold them off. We're going after Enrique."

Trevor didn't even stop to argue. He just gave a quick nod and sliced through another aswang, his expression focused. "Got it."

Frankie flung more salt at an aswang that got a little too close for comfort. "Try not to get yourselves killed."

I shot him a smirk. "Please, who's gonna come up with all the clever remarks if I'm not around?"

No more time for banter. I glanced at Jasper and Ash. They were already with me, both of them ready to make the move. We had to catch Enrique, and fast. We bolted, sprinting away from the fight and into the shadows of the shrine.

The sounds of the battle behind us—Trevor's sword clashing, the aswangs shrieking, Dylan's light crackling—faded as we ran. My heart pounded in my chest, but this was it. This was the chase.

Running through the darkness of the shrine, I couldn't help but mutter, "Of course the middle child has to do all the hard work. Typical."

We skidded to a stop outside the entrance, my lungs burning from the sprint. And there he was—Enrique, standing over the scroll, already opened, with this smug, satisfied look plastered on his face. I could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on us. The air was thick, not just with the stench of impending doom, but with something darker, more sinister.

"Well, well, look who's finally caught up," Enrique said, his voice dripping with condescension. He didn't even bother turning to face us fully, his attention fixed on the glowing scroll. "Took you long enough."