Rage of Vendetta (The Vendetta Series #2)

Chapter 38

Author's Note: Early update! (Despite the fact I've had this chapter sitting for eons and I'm going to have to shut my eyes to force myself to hit Publish.) One word: enjoy. (And a few more: I would love to hear your comments. Or feel the love with the votes. Also friendly reminder that this story is indeed rated PG-13. Let's not forget that, in case there are any little readers...)

Chapter 38

“You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Valencia reaches down, and pressing her palm against the tip of the sword, pushes the thick metal out the way it came in. I scramble back against the wall, feeling slightly nauseous. 

The dark-haired man who had stuck the sword in doesn’t seem surprised she was hardly affected. There are two of them, and they’re stocked with weapons. I can smell their allegiance to the Fourth Branch.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Valencia demands. “Murder of a leader is punishable by death.”

“We’d rather turn into ash than see demon-bloods rise to our equals,” the taller one with the still-clean sword says. They’re both looking at me as they say this. I’m still a little disturbed by the giant hole in Valencia’s torso that she barely notices to take them seriously. 

“And you’re doing this by stabbing me?” Valencia says, equally unimpressed.

The first Nephilum whips out a knife sheathed by his thigh. “We do this by killing the two trying to initiate an alliance.”

My eye actually twitches.

“We haven’t tried to initiate an alliance,” I cut in, “there is an alliance.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

I jump back as they charge, moving at a blur. But this time, I’m ready to deal with the repercussions of provoking them. We match their numbers equally, and when I reach into telekinesis, every weapon they have on them goes flying towards the ceiling, plunging themselves into the plaster and staying up there. 

They’re fast even without weapons, but Valencia is faster. She side-steps into the diverging gap their formation creates and kicks out with her foot: ducking from the stout, dark-haired one and effectively taking down the taller, blond one in one swoop. I’m suddenly glad I never attacked this woman and stayed on her good side. Very glad.

She blurs out of existence when the stout Nephilum charges a second time. He halts, puzzled, and then she appears behind him, shoving her elbow into the back of his head. He falls too. 

The amount of strength she must have used to actually knock them out so fast scares me. It only takes her a matter of seconds to end a fight.

“Well,” she says to me, when neither of them stir, knocked out cold. “You want to help me drag them to Plum? I’m actually supposed to meet her right now.”

I shrug, grabbing a random arm and beginning to tow the heavy body. 

“Who’s Plum?”

“The leader of these poor bastards,” Valencia answers curtly, towing the other one. “This is the goddamn rebellion Cyreel is inciting in other Branches. I can’t wait until the Fifth Branch switches leaders.”

We lug them up a set of stairs, their heads knocking against every step. With two grown men trailing face-down behind us, we arrive to a door. Valencia knocks quietly. 

Immediately, a short woman with a tawny-beige complexion and plum-colored hair opens the door. Her marks are more elaborate than any I’ve seen, twisting up to nearly her elbow.