Dark Passions at Death's Door

2.2 - In the Swamp, Part II

That crazyass shit was for the cartoons! But the demon was holding an arm severed just below the elbow, blood flowing. Incredibly, the thing's arm was sealing. Healing.

Friendly, enemy? He couldn't tell. The male looked up at him. It snarled, black pits where its eyes were. Instinct. Enemy. He wound the blade back and cleaved through the thing's neck.

Something else barreled into him hard from the side. He twisted, grimacing, wrapped his arm around the neck of whatever this was.

This one had no horns, it wasn't demonic. It was... the Hell? Fangs?! It had lost a leg. Now it was struggling, reaching to bite him.

He slung the sword under its chin, pulling the blade up and back, hard, like he'd been trained. Pull head to the side, twist, slice back hard, sever carotid, sever the throat. FUCK YOU!

The thing fell over, but the hands were twitching. Jesus, they wouldn't die from that?

Byron rolled the sword around, up and over in a hard swing. Cleaving through the rest of the spinal cord. The – fangs, had to be a freaking vampire – stilled.

He inhaled at the way wrong time. Smelt the fetid shit the thing let loose with its death. He puked up whatever it was he'd had for his late dinner.

The vamp's rusty blood was so rank, congealed. It was black tar in the swamp's muddy water and ground. Byron turned and pushed further on, seeking a way out. He spat out the last bits of vomit.

Whatever the hell those centaurs were, they appeared to have stopped coming this way. Had those couples been responding to a flanking maneuver?

I gotta be dreaming, I gotta be...

Roses, almond oil, shea butter... what... who smelled like that in this disgusting Hell? Byron looked around, seeking the source. Then his eyes landed on a female walking alone through the swamp.

His heartbeat thudded.

Her. Who? What? Are you?

She was shorter than him, maybe four or five inches shorter, but sweet God in Heaven, she was beyond gorgeous. Hourglass curves, and raven-black hair. But her outfit? She was dressed in a t-shirt and a miniskirt with... He did a doubletake. Were those frigging combat boots?!

He looked her up and down, mouth hanging, eyes blinking hard. Jesus... yep, those are desert Oakleys. Pretty penny for those, and she's got blood and muck all over'em.

Something appeared beside her in a blur. Male, vampire, a sword raised. Threat! He leapt forward, mouth opening to shout a warning.

The woman swung her right arm out in a simple flick. The threat lost its head.

She didn't even look!!!

Another vampire rushed her, and he started forward, but this one was paired with a female. A vampiress? Then the woman's whole body shifted, and she lifted a hand. What in the world?

She was done up in an old-style party dress. Something he'd seen maybe in the old black-and-white films. She reached out, and one of the other demons was lifted up, struggling. He blinked.

Okay, what, was she a freaking Jedi or some crap?!

The male had red eyes, towering over most any human being Byron had ever seen in real life. He howled, "Stop ruining all our fun, Valkyrie!"

Was that a freaking Russian accent? They were friendly? Enemy?

Both were past the raven-haired beauty he was watching in less than a second. She wasn't even looking at them.