The Monster Apocalypse

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Brin landed in a large clump of snow at the bottom of the standard mill. She hit the ground hard, but not hard enough to knock her out. She pushed her right hand up against her chest—and felt nothing but warm, fresh blood.

"Damn it," she said. "Damn it, no."

She examined the wound, which hurt like hell but didn't appear to be life threatening. He hadn't pierced any major arteries—the sword had only torn up her right hip.

"Damn it, yes," Droz said, as he jumped down from a ladder and landed firmly on the snow. He twirled his sword around, showing off to no one. "You barely put up a fight. That first class devil inside of you is shaking his head in shame."

Brin reached for her sword. But there was none to be found. She had dropped it the minute he stabbed her.

"Whatever," he said. "It doesn't matter. I kill you, and Satan will just find another vessel. There's no killing him. There's only more waiting, for when he at his most powerful will strike and change the world for all eternity. It was supposed to be you this time around. But I don't think you have the guts to be everything that you're capable of."

Brin tried to sit up. The pain overwhelmed her. She saw two images of Droz in front of her, and a ringing in her head made her want to scream.

"Please," she said. She finally was able to scoot herself back up against the snow. She watched as Droz marched toward her, the sword out in front of him. She glanced to her left and right, but, even though she was outside, in the snow, walls still surrounded her.

"Please what?"

"Please... at the very least... let my mother go..."

He stopped. Then he swung the sword through the air one final time. "You will be gone. But your mother won't care. She's already stepped over to the dark side. You see, I didn't even have to make her bad. She didn't want to be your mother anymore. She wanted to be with me. She wanted my power, my energy, my—"

Brin didn't have much energy left. But she had enough for one more hit.

She brought her leg back and kicked Droz in the crotch.

He looked down in confusion, then back at Brin. He shook his head in shame.

"Really? Nothing?" Brin said. "I'm sorry, but you're not going to be able to make my mom happy forever if you can't... you know... satisfy her."

He raised the sword up high. "I've had enough! You're dead!"

Brin glanced to her left. She saw a shadow.

"I'm sorry, Satan!" Droz shouted. "But now is not your time! Now is my time! It's Droz's time!"

He brought the sword all the way back over his head, then swung it down.

But it didn't hit Brin.

The sword struck Paul—in the neck.

Brin landed face first in the snow; she had been pushed away at the last second before impact. She pulled herself up and turned to her right. The spite on Droz's face diminished. Paul let out a loud gurgle; he tried to move, but couldn't. Droz also didn't budge.

"Paul," he said. "What have you done?"

Paul breathed through his nose, as black blood spurted out all sides of his neck. He just stared at his father, not with pain or sadness, but with disappointment.

Brin reached for Paul's hand, and he reached for hers. Their fingers touched, only briefly.

"You always were a stupid boy," Droz said. "But you were my stupid boy."