Chapter 215: Kill Them All
Chapter 215: Kill Them All
\[Parris\]
My wolf’s voice fades and my eyes snap open.
Nothing has changed about my situation except for my resolve. What do I have to lose? I’m either going to shift or I'm going to die. Either way, I’m going to make it worth the sacrifice.
I was brought here to be a distraction. I guess it’s time to do my job–even if it isn’t in the way that was expected.
“So what’s it going to be, Commander Paige?” Chancy demands, informing Prince Calyx of his choices. “Will you take the lead on this, or will I need to do the honors and explain to your father why he’s lost another son?”
“Your lack of faith in my loyalty is heartbreaking, Commander,” Calyx states, replacing his barely masked horror at finding his reinforcements strapped to marble slabs with his usual cocky devil-may-care bravado. “Hand me the blade, Commander,” a faint smile of satisfaction curls his lips as he adds, “I’ll see this is done right.”
The room is tense as everyone waits to see what Chancy will do next. Will he hand the blade to Calyx, or will he stab the young hybrid in the heart after cutting my throat open as well?
“Good boy,” Chancy smiles, his yellow teeth gleaming gruesomely in the golden light of nearby ceremonial torches. A crackle of power rushes across my fingertips as my nails begin to elongate to their usual, perpetual claws as the last of the potion fades and my body reverts to its natural state. If I wait too much longer, I may lose my chance to shift. Max is so sure it will work…
…but is it already too late?
Prince Calyx takes a strides forward, his mate, Amaryllis, waits a few steps behind, draped in a sheer cloth that presents her glowing body like a lustful offering.
Turning my head slightly, the blade burns as it slices through. Sucking my breath, I hold in my wince as my eyes connect with hers.
And I smile.
She catches my expression and a thread of worry fades from her brow. Smirking back, she turns her head down to hide her humor. She’s the only other person in the room who is witch enough to sense my returning spark. To everyone else, I just smell like a wolf.
Chancy, sensing something was different, looks down at me, confused. But I am past caring if he kills me or not. If my sacrifice is the distraction they need to end this, so be it. I’m willing.
And if my shift works, and I’m not a sacrifice after all, even better.
Regardless,I’m going to give everyone a really good show.
“Enough stalling,” Max huffs. “It’s go time.”
“Yes,” I hiss aloud, taking pleasure in the burn of the knife at my throat as my laughter struggles against it, slicing my flesh a little deeper as my madness rolls from my throat in a vicious crackle. The burn of my magic rushing through me feels so good even as the pain digs in. It's such a weird sensation. Like making love to my mate, it burns so good.
“What is so fucking funny?” the old beta growls, not seeing the humor.
“This,” I bark back, my laughter shifting to a roar as I tear my hands free of the zip ties holding them back and I snap to my feet, not feeling the kiss of the blade as it tears through my neck, painting the room in my blood even as I knock the old beta unconscious with the sheer force of my skull pummeling his nose.
Beta Chancy flails backward, hitting the ground with a sickening crunch that on any other wolf I’d think meant he wasn’t getting up. But this sick bastard has been spelled so thoroughly, that I’m not even sure that a fatal wound would be enough to keep him down.
And it isn’t. His skull is cracked open, blood and other thicker things oozing on the floor beneath him, and yet he still struggles at my feet, trying to right himself to stand again.
We need to be done with this before then. We can’t let this monster rise to cause more pain.
With a rush of power, I let my wolf take control of my body as he comes to the surface for what I hope will be my first shift. I’ve tried at least a dozen times before, but something feels different this time. Usually, I can feel his power pushing against the barriers of my flesh unable to push forward to bend and twist my limbs into something new. But this time, as Max comes fully awake within me, I feel his wolfish form fill my arms and legs with warmth, making them his as he heals my wounds and elongates my body, stretching my spine and bones.
But then, the power stretches my hands and legs, riding on magic as if trying to fill the room with power.
A deep growl rattles free from my throat as I tip back my head and feel my teeth lengthen as power blossoms from my core essence as a ray of bright blue light that soon takes the shape of a larger-than-life wolfman. Unlike other hybrids, who find themselves shifted between forms, taller than other wolf men, their flesh glowing–I already have a natural form that is in between man and wolf, and like so many other things about me, I’ve become something new. As my physical growth halts, leaving me only a bit lankier than my usual figure, my spirit form extends the measure of my arms and legs, crafting limbs made of pure light and power, encasing me in bright, blue light.
Standing before a mirror brought in for the spell, I catch a glimpse of my new form and can’t help but smile as I see myself hovering above the ground, supported by luminescent limbs while on my head rests the wide-shouldered mantle and face of a powerful wolf.
My wolf.
Me.
The room falls silent as the last of my roar subsides and I stand, glowing, in the center of the room with all eyes on me.
Looking back at the fallen Chancy from my new-found height, my grin spreads from ear to ear, as my fangs extend.
I take a step forward, reaching down towards the startled elder wolf.
“SLICE THEIR THROATS!” Beta Chancy growls at his men, as he struggles to regain his footing, blood and gore rolling down his shoulders as he moves his head, his eyes white and blind as the spell that reanimates him struggles to keep itself going within the aura of my new form, which seems to feed not only off the natural energy of the world around us, but from every device and stored spell within the room–including those that make him work.
“KILL THEM ALL!” Chancy growls, not seeing that his men are scattering, most of them dead and dying at the hands of the gammas that were only a moment ago prone beneath their blades. “KILL THEM…”
With a sickening pop, his screams stop and he falls to the ground again, this time for good.
\[Amaryllis--a few minutes earlier\]
The small wolf mage looks up at me, a strange grin on his face as he catches my gaze. I can’t hear his thoughts, we aren’t linked in that way, but I can read them in the spark that shines in his eyes.
He’s about to do something. Something big.
“Parris has a plan,” I speak through the link I share with my mate. “He just needs a bit of time. His spark…”
“Then let’s give it to him,” Calyx replies mind to mind, before turning to my uncle and offering to do the honors and end our tech mage’s life. “And then, let’s give Chancy exactly what he deserves.”
Holding my breath, I watch the interaction. Calyx steps forward, offering to do the necessary deed to prove his loyalty to the Brotherhood.
And just like expected, as soon as Calyx reaches forward for the blade, the building pressure in the room pops as something inside Parris, shifting him, and he becomes the distraction we needed.
As all eyes watch the scene before them, I raise my head, and do something I haven’t done since discovering who I really am. I let my spark ride free, filling my body with light.
My mother, Araminta Thorpe, is one of the most powerful witches to ever live, her essence only rivaled by our ancestor, the legendary Witch Queen. And my father, Channing Sterling, was a powerful alpha, blessed by the Moon Goddess.
I am their daughter.
And I have power.
With a flick of my wrist, I take control of the hands holding the blades against the necks of our soldiers enough to give our men enough space to breathe.
And they do. Seizing the opportunity, they shift their way out of their bindings, turning on the humans and witch hybrids who had been holding them down, using the distraction to regain their freedom. My mate, Calyx, shifts as well, his bright red wolf tearing the throat from a soldier who had almost impaled Parris before he could finish his transformation.
His eyes blank and staring, Chancy is flailing on the floor at Parris’ feet, scrambling to regain himself, the waxy skin of his face fading to the gray of old death.
Parris takes a step forward, laughing.
Rushing forward, I shift my hand into a clawed fist just as my uncle stands, his back facing me…
…and punch my way through his throat.
His blood still oozing down my arm, rancid and brown, I pull my arm from his neck and aim again, this time at his spine, which I rip from his body with the strength of an alpha.
But I’m not satisfied, not yet.
Lifting my scented and oiled foot, I lift my leg and crush his skull repeatedly, reveling in the feeling of his broken bones as they cut the soles of my feet as I take revenge on the wolf who twisted my heart and used my body.
“Stay dead this time,” I growl as I stumble back, viewing the mess I just made. “Goodbye, Uncle. Rot in Hell.”