Winged

Chapter Thirty

Annabelle

Oh, bloody hell. I was not hoping to see him again.

A rampage of words I'd like to call the man standing in front of me rummage through my mind, nothing I'd ever say in front of ma or pa and get away with- not without a hiding. Words I'd laugh about with Xavier, signs all of us girls would make behind people's backs that only we knew, to laugh over and share.

Trout-faced bastard. Ferger. In what way are your parents related to one another? Pillock.

Twatwaffle. Lucy thought that one was hilarious.

There are more than a million words in the English language and yet there is no way clear to me as to how I can combine them into an accurate description of how much I want to beat this guy with a chair.

He speaks into the cold air in a husky, panting voice, as if he's sick. He's old, at least forty, and looks out of breath. His silvery eyes are locked on mine but keep stealing quick glances at the others. Of course- I'm the one without the bracelet. I'm the one who broke them out.

"Put your weapons down." He glares at my arm that I didn't realize I had already raised, correctly angled so that I only have to swipe up and left for the contents of his stomach to spill on the rocks.

I'm also the one with the bloody blade for an arm. On second thoughts, that might be why he's addressing me.

"I'm sure we can make a settlement, let's work this out together. There's a fire and some tea inside, we can warm you all up and get the girl sorted-"

"Yes!" Harriet and Rhem call hoarsely.

"No!" Jackie shouts, glaring at our sister and Rhem.

"No." Sabrina backs herself up, placing herself quickly by Jackie and Harriet's side, between Grant Washner and Lucy.

His hands flicker at his belt, catching my attention. The plain leather holds a small sheath for a dagger, and two rapiers are strapped across his back in an X.

"No," I tell him, looking at my sisters, Rhem and Sabrina.

There is only a heartbeat of wait before the whole world kicks back into action.

I swing first, but we all attack. As my blade meets his, Harriet throws the dagger at his head and barely misses. Jackie's already on her feet and running at him, almost growling with her teeth bared as the dagger hits the ground, and Sabrina's somewhere behind me- I catch one glimpse, two, as I spin in fight- standing over Lucy and picking up rocks to throw. In my distraction, Grant Washner swings with his free hand.

Ow. Fist in my face. My eyes water, even if it didn't really hurt that much.

Chomp! I lift my chin and bite down with razor-like siren teeth giving a sound much to close to what we heard when Xavier was mauled beyond recognition by those disgraceful mutts.

The screaming makes my bones shudder.

But the fight continues and I forget for now the day I lost my brother, in the flurry of movement and the need for concentration I have to control to win the fight.

He's more talented than the girl thousands of flights beneath us. Sharper, neater and stronger, his training evident in his technique and movement.

Before I can search for a weak spot to take advantage of, Grant Washner lunges forward as I feint right, inevitably stepping out of his way. I follow through with the movement and spin on my heel, arm raised. I then stand there dumbfounded as I see Jackie clinging to Grant Washers' shoulders as she tackles him to the ground from behind, sending his head smashing to the ground and laughing wildly. She slips his second rapier from his back and into her hands, testing the weight of it.