His Miracle Mate: Rise of the Moon Children

Chapter 46

The mansion was a creation of glass and gray stone, with sharp angles and glimmering lights. Even the green hill atop which it sat was cut into square shapes of grass, shrubs and neatly defined paths of white stone. The modern style of it was jarring in the midst of the vast forest. Even more so now that Zyron and the others filled the air with wild growls and snarls, disturbing the peace of the night.

They charged towards the hillock. They hit the spell barrier and kept going. The guards surrounding the mansion saw them. Someone screamed a warning out and rushed into the house, the others all charged down, brandishing swords and all kinds of edged and bladed weapons. Their masks made them look straight out of a horror movie.

Crouched behind the shrubs next to Hayden, Alpha Blackrock and Dalia, I followed Zyron with my eyes, mostly because he was the biggest person on our side. He carved a path in front of him out of enemy guards, like they were nothing more than bowling pins.

Two men charged him at once, swinging short, thick bladed swords. Zyron dodged down and left, striking out with his leg. He kicked the arm of one of his attackers. Bones crunched even through a distance. The man screamed and dropped the sword, his arm twisted back at an unnatural angle.

While Zyron slashed his short sword across the fallen man's neck, the second attacker swung again. Zyron ducked and lunged into the strike. The blade caught his shoulder, slicing through. But the werewolf King tackled the man down. In a moment he had the man's sword arm broken and the man's own sword impaling his chest, pinning him to the ground. Then he rose and charged again.

A flash of white blond hair. Wren was a few steps behind Zyron, choking a man's neck and using him as a shield when a throwing dagger flew her way. The dagger struck the man's throat. Wren pulled away the dagger and threw the man aside. He writhed on the ground, choking on his own blood.

"The problem with throwing knives is that eventually, you run out. And if you don't know what you're doing with them, your opponent ends up with your own weapons," Dalia mumbled next to me, her eyes glowing red as she watched the fight. Alpha Blackrock's eyes were also a green so bright it appeared lit from within. I guess they wanted to be over there, fighting. Instead, they were stuck with babysitting duty.

A man charged at Wren from behind. I covered my face and peeked through my fingers. "Behind you," I whispered.

Wren spun a kick. Her foot caught the man's temple. His head spun, his body facing one way and his head another, and the man toppled to the ground. My heart hammered. Wren moved on.

I scanned the fighting for Dad. He was out there, fighting, even though witches and moon children were supposed to stay behind because their physical abilities were inferior to werewolves and vampires.

He fought side to side with Vlad, their arms a blur as their opponents dropped like flies.

We were winning the fight. Even when the doors burst open and vomited more supernaturals into the fray. In minutes, our ranks reached the mansion door and barreled through, leaving the slight hill dotted with writhing bodies, dark stains covering the stone pathway, glistening under the garden lights.

Chaos broke inside. All I could hear was shouting and growling. I startled when a window on the second floor broke in a shower of glass. It sparkled like rain outside, followed by a body. It dropped and rolled a few feet down the hill. Then stopped and stayed still.

I swallowed, my throat dry. So much violence. So much death. My magic buzzed right under my skin, wanting to lash out, and my senses seemed to have grown twice as sharp. I had the absurd notion that I could feel magic in miles all around me. It must be the adrenaline.