Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
Just as I turn back around, he drops out of Limbo—directly onto Maven’s back.
Oh, fuck. The berserker is going to rip him limb from limb, just like she’s done to everything else that has made the mistake of getting too close to her.
Crackling black magic blooms around the death-craving revenant as she tries to attack Crypt, but even though he must be in agony, the incubus reaches down to cradle Maven’s head. He grimaces, swearing viciously as his markings light up brightly.
Silas and I move to shield the two of them from any more threats. Luckily, the fight is waning as many opponents have started to run from the terrifying revenant. The few who remain are primarily focused on the biggest target—Baelfire. Silas and I take care of any legacies or hellhounds who approach as Crypt tries like hell to use his sleep-inducing ability on the berserker.
Her dark magic finally dissipates. I risk a glance over my shoulder, relieved to see that Maven is blessedly unconscious.
“Thank the gods,” I mutter.
Silas sends some necromantic spell at two wolf shifters racing toward us, but his gaze slips to the sky.
“Those godsdamned humans and their love of drama,” he scowls.
Glancing up, I swear.
A news helicopter is hovering high in the sky, getting footage of the fight in the street below. Baelfire snarls and pauses in chasing enemies away to shoot a warning column of blinding blue fire into the air. It’s nowhere near close enough to endanger the idiot humans looking for a scoop, but it does seem to frighten the pilot into his good senses because the helicopter slowly backs off.
Not nearly as many enemies remain now, and the ones that do are attacking Baelfire. I let Silas stay on guard and crouch beside Maven, who is sleeping on the black pavement of the blood-soaked street.
Crypt looks exhausted as he finally pulls his hands away from her head, wiping sweat off his brow. His leather jacket is missing, and he has a nasty-looking cut on one forearm that’s struggling to heal.
“Scyntyche’s scythe, our girl is strong,” he mutters. “That took nearly everything I had.”
“Let’s hope she wakes up as Maven instead of the thing that did all of this,” I say, turning to survey the dying aftermath of the battle.
But then I freeze.
Natalya Genovese is standing at the end of the blood-and-corpse-filled street, dressed in a shimmering cut-out dress like she was just about to hit her favorite high-end club. Her auburn hair is brighter under the rising dawn as her glowing blue gaze falls to Maven, still unconscious on the ground.
Silas spots her, too, and swears. “She can’t get into our heads, so why are her eyes glowing?”
Shit, Baelfire says through the bond.
This is so fucking creepy.
Not willing to take my eyes off Maven’s final immortal target, I use my peripheries to see what he’s talking about.
The remaining legacies who were just retreating are now approaching, their movements and steps in perfect synchrony.
A dozen or so casters raise their hands at the same time. The handful of remaining shifters howl, snarl, hiss, or roar at once. Three bounty hunters cock their guns and take aim simultaneously.
They’re like puppets now. Completely under the vampyr’s control.
All at once, perfectly coordinated attacks surge around us. I throw a thick ice shield around Maven just as Crypt leaps away, drawing out his enchanted sword to attack the nearest enemy. Baelfire swivels, his neck swinging low as he goes right for Natalya—but just as he opens his mouth to breathe fire, one of the mind-controlled bounty hunters fires off a tranquilizer that tags the beast in the roof of his mouth.
He roars, shuddering as he crashes into the row of historic Baltimore houses. I’m so busy freezing anything that comes close to my shielded keeper that I don’t see the toppling building beside me until it’s too late.
“Shit,” I swear.
I try to roll and end up buried in debris up to my neck, weight crushing my chest. Pain lights up my right arm.
Broken. Great.
I try struggling, but I’m completely pinned as the others fight the creepily coordinated attacks of Natalya’s puppets. Baelfire has lost his dragon form and is passed out from the tranquilizer. Crypt and Silas try to keep the mind-controlled legacies away from Maven’s icy enclosure. But Silas’s magic is flagging, and as I watch, Crypt is tackled from behind by a fucking bear shifter.
Meanwhile, Natalya Genovese uses her vamp speed to dart to where I’m trying to summon ice—but I’m also running out of steam. I can’t breathe under this heavy mass of bricks and shit.
Natalya shows off her fangs as she examines me, preening like the well-dressed predator she is. “Why can’t I get into your handsome head?”
I’ve never been so grateful for Silas’s magic. If we survive this, I’ll even thank him.
The immortal reaches down, her hand wrapping around my neck. I choke in pain as she pulls me out of the crushing debris like it weighs nothing to her—but then, in a blindingly fast move, she pins me to the asphalt with my hands over my head. Struggling against her is like fighting against steel bands.
Fucking vampyr strength.
Natalya’s blue eyes still glow, her pupils like hungry pinpricks as she bares her fangs at me again, this time with a carnal smile. Somewhere in the fight, I hear a loud crack?—
Like ice breaking.
Like someone just got through Maven’s shield.
Maven? I send through the bond, alarmed as I struggle.
I try to send a spike of ice up beside my head to stab Natalya, but she’s too fast and dodges the spike with ease.
“Worry not, I’ll let my new friends rip that hideous revenant of yours to shreds,” she purrs. “It won’t be long now, and I just cannot stand getting my hands dirty when they could be so much more pleasantly occupied.”
I strain away from her, bending my neck desperately to see if Maven is okay—but the bitch takes the opportunity to lick my neck.
Dear gods, that is fucking repulsive.
I gag and try to freeze her, but the glaze of ice barely encompasses Natalya before she breaks out of it as easily as a snake shedding its skin. Proof that I’m tapped out from the fight.
“Get the fuck off of me,” I grit out.
From somewhere beyond this horrific moment, I hear Silas shout before it gets quiet.
Really damn quiet.
Natalya has the audacity to fucking giggle, batting her eyes at me. “I think I’ll keep you alive. I’ve always wanted to play with a Frost. Now that your brothers have fallen and I’ve won, let’s take a look at how your keeper looks in pieces, shall we?”
She darts upright, pulling me with her. I struggle to keep my footing, looking around desperately for Maven.
I don’t see her, but I do see why it’s quiet.
The rest of Natalya’s puppets are now dead, their corpses joining the countless others on the street. The only people left standing are Silas and Crypt, but just barely. Both of them look like injury-riddled shit as they turn to face us.
Just as Natalya hisses in displeased anger, Maven blurs to a stop in front of us, moving quicker than a shifter. The vampyr drops me, reaching for Maven with an infuriated shriek.
Maven moves faster. She sidesteps the immortal, ducks under another attack, reaches around Natalya’s head, and?—
Rips it clean off.
“That’s for Amato,” she mutters as the immortal falls.
I watch in disgusted, morbid fascination as my keeper drops the head before reaching down and searching Natalya’s headless corpse. She removes a choker necklace from some hidden pocket inside the cut-out dress’s skirt, sets it on the asphalt, and wastes no time driving Pierce into it.
As the pendant shatters, I realize it was etherium.
Immediately, the ground rumbles like there’s a distant earthquake. The dawn seems to dim, and snow begins to fall lightly from clouds that have steadily crept into the sky during the ambush. Everything feels darker—almost less colorful, somehow.
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
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