“Do we call the guards?” Snow yelled. “This has just happened, maybe we can save her! She could tell us who did this!”

  “Even if I gave her the rest of my amassed power, the damage done to her body is far too much,” Death said. “At this point, death is the kinder option… so we should leave her to suffer.”

  “What would we tell them?” Vera growled. “We killed two of those Valan knobheads to get in here, they’re not going to forgive us for infiltrating their library just because we report a murder! We murdered to get in here, they’ll blame us.”

  The woman’s eyes followed Death as he knelt over her. He put a hand in her warm entrails, digging around as she groaned in pain. With a bloody hand, he pulled out nothing, disappointed that he found no answers in her stomach. He wiped the blood off his hand onto the dying woman’s breast.

  “I can’t help you live,” he told her. “Your throat has been cut, you can’t speak, you are alive because the ritual you were being sacrificed for is incomplete, disrupted by your torturer fleeing upon hearing our voices.”

  She opened her mouth to show that her tongue had been taken too and stared at a specific book on a table with ordering groans.

  “It’s a book on the Valan family tree,” Vera said, grabbing it. “I don’t see anything scribbled inside—wait, two names have a bloody thumbprint.”

  “She doesn’t have the arms to tell us if it’s from her,” Snow said. “They seem small, like a woman’s finger.”

  “A ritual of murder,” Death said. “Had this ritual been seen to the end, this woman would’ve transformed into something ugly and unforgiving, with only one goal—kill the highlighted names, end her torment and pain.”

  “I’ve heard of those,” Vera said. “But they require—”

  “It is the same from my time,” Death interrupted. He slid his hand into the walls of meat on her chest, a sensation that felt like a toothless horse sucking on his fingers. He felt her heart pumping at his fingertips, booming harder as he explored a small cut in the muscle. He pulled out a black stone, wiping it on his clothing. “A petrified tear of an angel, corrupted by demon-blood. What names are covered?”

  “Godwin Valan, Harren Valan, siblings,” Snow answered.

  “Are they the only two siblings?”

  “No,” said Vera. “The third sibling, Stroke Valan, the one who gave me my scar, is unmarked.”

  Odd, Death thought. All male names, a brother seeking outside influence to murder his own family doesn’t seem right.

  “We kept going up and down,” Death said fast. “Which floor are we on?”

  “The lowest,” Vera said.

  “Then our culprit is within running distance. We must chase them and discover why this happened.”

  “Why does it concern us?” Snow squeaked.

  “Because there is an infinitely small chance that the succubus bitch might be commanding the cambion that did this.”

  The door to enter the library was kicked open, as were the many other entrances scattered across each layer of floor. “We received word that—oh, gods,” a guard said. “Send word to Quinn that our tip-off was true, the Great Lizard Hall has been invaded, not by a demon-blooded, but one of our own.”

  A tip? This really is one big coincidence; I’m thrown into a conspiracy that doesn’t even involve me.

  Snow used Death as a shield. Vera summoned her daggers and shown her teeth.

  “Lay down your weapons, scum!” the soldier shouted. “Under the name of Prince Godwin, I sentence you to die for the murder of a protected individual!”

  “She’s not dead!” Snow yelled.

  “Quiet, Snow,” Death hissed. “I will do the talking.”

  Dozens of guards circled them above, aiming crossbows for them and waiting the command to fill them with arrows.

  “I shall take it from here,” said a grumbly voice. “Whoever these idiots are, they do not scare me.”

  The voice grew closer, rumbling thuds from the hallway as a massive figure, just over eight feet tall, ducked under the doorway in Valan armour and a red cloak. His sword required two hands, and was too large for a scabbard, he wielded it constantly.

  “That man shouldn’t be here,” Vera squeaked. “He’s too high up the chain for something like this! I can’t fight him.”

  “I hear you,” he grumbled. He removed his hood and shown a scarred face, auburn hair, greasy and sweaty. “Speak louder in the presence of your superiors. You have a familiar face… ah, I know who that one is… Vera the Vixen, there’s a bounty on you.”

  “You won’t be the one to claim it!” she said unconfidently.

  “We shall see.”

  Death saw the scarred eye and felt angry, but it wasn’t the scar he was searching for. “I didn’t do this,” Death snarled. “I will kill you and every single man here if you do not stand down.”

  The large man gave a contagious laugh. The guards mocked the three of them with slurs before their commander clenched his fist.

  “You don’t know who I am?” he asked genuinely. “You must be new to the nation of Valan. I am the Blood Swordsman, slayer of ghouls and monsters, trusted friend of the great Harren Valan. My name is Killian Entrail, and you will never forget that. We received a tip that this hall would be infiltrated by a demon-blooded cambion who wished to kill the heir and the two princes… oh, that is a shame—the reports of you kidnapping and raping the childhood friend of Stroke Valan was true…”

  The dying woman moaned like she was upset, not in pain. Death withheld the book, silently ordering Snow to keep it safe.

  “We didn’t do this,” Death repeated. “I will give you one last chance to take my words as truth. The culprit fled moments ago, and it is of mutual benefit that we catch them.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “You are the culprit,” Killian claimed. “I will kill all three of you once this ritual has been snuffed out.”

  “Do it,” Death challenged. “I don’t care about whatever this is. By any means necessary, do your duty.”

  “Your ritual has failed.” Killian pointed at the dying woman. “End it, men, our mission to save the princes was a success.”

  Death shielded the two women and thought the arrows were coming for him and the others, but he was wrong.

  The woman’s body was riddled with arrows, nearly a hundred in total. She was still breathing, Killian swung his sword and cut off her head, yet still she sucked in air. “A strong ritual,” he joked, grabbing her head and placing it under his boot. “This is over… I will kill the three of you next.”

  He crushed her head, and a puff of purple smoke filled the room like a fog. Some of the men that inhaled it died immediately, their heads popping after pulsing purple and their veins popping against their cheeks. With each death, the room filled up more.

  “Kill them!” Killian ordered, inhaling the smoke and moaning like it was a drug to him. “They are the source!”

  He swung a sword for Death, which he ducked under. The two danced in battle, every swing from Killian a miss. Vera had never heard of the Blood Swordsman ever failing a strike, and now she had seen him miss a dozen with her own eyes.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Killian yelled. He slammed his blade into the floor, missing Death again. “You’re breathing the smoke of a powerful ritual, your body has natural resistance to magic… have we met?”

  “I do not associate with weakness.” Death ran up the slant of Killian’s sword and kicked his jaw, sending him staggering back into a wall of the ritual’s mist.

  After landing, Death was then struck with an arrow to his hand. He pulled it out with a yank, staring at the one that fired.

  I can’t get up there fast enough to kill him, Death thought. More arrows will come if they… aren’t…

  Death was speechless as he saw Vera cutting through the guards faster than he could see. For every man she’d killed, she’d pounced on another target before the first hit the floor. “Find a way out!” she shouted. “We’re not affected by this purple shit, but she will be!”

  “Death!” Snow yelled, stuck in the corner as tentacles of purple fog tauntingly got closer. “I don’t have any strength! Where do I go from here? I can hold my breathe but I don’t know how long for!”

  Distracted by her, Death was struck by the swing of a table that snapped in two upon the hit. He felt his body break as he smashed through the window and into a field of grass. He saw a trail leading into the trees, the trail of the culprit, revealing they had tiny feet.

  What just hit me? Didn’t even see it coming, he thought. I have no time to wait, I must get back in there… if Snow dies, I die.

  He forced his body to his feet and dove back through the window, slicing open his arm on a pointy glass spike.

  Killian removed his sword from the wood. “Puny, weak man,” he taunted. “I will slice you in half.”

  Death then saw Snow with only a single step of safety left. He rushed for her, not trusting her to hold her breathe, and tightened his hand against her throat.

  “I will not let it into your lungs!” he screamed. “I must do this, Snow, fight the pain and do not let darkness take you!”

  The purple swallowed them both, and he pressed tighter. Snow fought against his strength, choking and suffocating. She hit his arm, begging to be let go, but he knew to release her was to send them both to death.

  This cannot be the end, Death thought. I don’t see a place to go. I can’t go through the window again, he will give chase and kill Snow. I don’t know how to fight this.

  “You are a little shit,” Killian said. “Why are you stopping that girl from taking in the fog? Let her smell the magic of the demon-blooded… I let my men do it, the fog eliminates weakness.”

  Under different circumstances, I think this large fool would have a similar mentality to mine… a shame he uses his weapon rather than his mind.

  “Be a man,” Killian taunted. “Drop the whore, fight me to the death and let one of us have a tale to tell… I can tell you are strong, I don’t care why you’re trying to kill the three princes anymore, I want your skull decorating my fireplace.”

  You have no idea how much I would relish fighting and killing you, draining all that physical strength and any power you may be hiding all for myself. Death saw a shine beneath the arrowed corpse. there was a smashed lock hidden under her peeled scalp, glowing from the moonlight. A hidden hatch? That is my way out.

  With Snow in his grip, he made a run for it. He ducked under Killian’s swing, then slid between his legs, kicking away the body to reveal an iron handle. He yanked it open and saw a ladder.

  I can’t climb down that… this bastard will just drop his sword on me and I’ll be dead.

  “Go!” Vera had a corpse of her own. “Just jump! You can kill this one to repair yourself!”

  Death turned and saw Killian charging, then threw his body down the ladder, protecting Snow from the fall. Death’s back broke as it hit concrete, his spine snapping and paralysing his legs.

  Vera shut the hatch, the tip of the two-handed sword poking through the wood. She looked it from the inside, and it held well against Killian’s rage.

  “This’ll hold, but not for long,” Vera shouted. “We have about a minute to gather our thoughts, then we’ve gotta start running.”

  Just keep grip, Death thought. Don’t let her go.

  Snow was now purple, seconds from death, Vera threw her half-dead man to the side and kissed Snow, sucking the smoke from her throat and nostrils, then whacked Death’s hand away.

  Snow coughed and sucked in breaths, coughing on her hands and knees, tears streaming from her eyes. When she felt able, she crawled to Death and thanked him. “I’m okay,” she whispered. “I knew you were doing it to keep me safe… we’re safe, you’re safe.”

  “We are not safe,” Vera reminded.

  “I do not need coddling like I am some child,” Death snarled. “I cannot move my legs, but I have control of my upper body. Vera, bring me that man before he dies.”

  Vera threw the man onto Death’s lap. “He’s unconscious, but he is alive,” she said. “Does that count?”

  “Yes.”

  He sliced the throat of the unconscious man with Vera’s dagger, his eyes opened quick, bulging and shaking as he died.

  Death’s arm healed, his back snapped into place, his legs slowly returned to a functioning state. He stood, unable to shake off Snow who kept hugging him.

  “You are strong,” Vera said. “Killian Entrail is not someone you just send to a town like this… even Quinn the bounty hunter is too high of a status to protect this place and he is nowhere near the level of Killian.”

  “He didn’t seem strong,” Death said.

  “He was playing with his food. I’ve seen him fight when I was a little girl at Vatanil, and that was without whatever power he hides. We’re alive because you impressed him.”

  He ignored her. “It’s dark. We’ll have to use the glow of your dagger’s edge to lead the way… what is that putrid stench.”

  Vera held the dagger up to the end of the pathway. There were piles of shit, rats crawling everywhere, puddles of piss.

  “I have the book,” Snow whimpered. “I protected it just like you told me to! I did good, didn’t I? You owe me a kiss!”

  “When we escape from this, you can have it,” he sighed. “We’ve been accused of something we’re not a part of. I am interested to know what scheme we’ve disrupted, the timing felt too deliberate. I think the ritual was supposed to be completed the exact moment that brute and his men entered, the monster that woman turned into was supposed to kill all of them. You heard him say it, the ritual was a strong one, summoned by a strong demon-blooded magic caster. I am more certain than ever that this cambion must have a lead to the bitch succubus that took my powers. We will take credit for this mess, my red eyes are enough to falsely claim I am a low-blooded breed of cambion… we shall join this act of theatre to get what I need. Now, Vera, where are we?”

  “The sewers,” she said. “We must move fast, they could try to block our exits if we take too long.”