Beauty Awakened (Angels of the Dark) (37 page)

“Let’s find out,” Horsey hissed. He opened his mouth and
roared, his awful breath somehow creating a strong, unstoppable wind that pushed
the arsonist at Annabelle.

To everyone else, it probably seemed like the guy was leaping
at her of his own volition, intending to restrain her. Another swing, and the
chair sent him flying through Horsey’s body and to his butt, as if the creature
were nothing more substantial than mist. To Fire Boy, he wasn’t. The creatures
were only ever tangible to her and whatever she held.

Sometime during the exchange, Horns had moved beyond her
periphery. Now he managed to sneak up behind her and rake his claws against her
already bleeding shoulder. As she turned, he turned with her, once again raking
her with those claws.

The pain…oh, the pain. No longer ignorable.

Stars winked in her line of vision. She heard laughter behind
her, and knew Horns was there, ready to claw her again. She darted forward, out
of the way, and tripped.

Horsey caught her by the forearms, preventing her from falling.
He let her go—only to punch her in the face. More pain, more stars, but when he
lifted his hand for a second blow, she was ready. She jerked the chair up and
nailed him under the jaw, then spun so that he broke his knuckles on the seat of
the chair rather than her cheekbone. His howl rent the air.

Footsteps behind her. She kicked backward, connecting with
Horns. Before her leg landed, she spun and kicked out with the other, scissoring
her ankles to double tap his gut. When he collapsed, wheezing for air, she
flipped the chair upside down and finished him off, slamming the metal rim into
his trachea.

Black blood pooled and bubbled around him, frothing and
sizzling as it seared the tiled floor. Steam rose, curling through the air.

One minute to go.

Maximum damage,
she thought.

Horsey called her a very rude name, his entire body shaking
with his wrathful intent. He closed the distance with stomping steps and lashed
out with those clublike arms. No claws, just fists. Playtime was over, she
supposed. She blocked, ducked and bowed her back to ensure those meaty hammers
only ever swiped the chair. All the while she punched at him with the dented
metal, landing multiple blows.

“Why did you come for me?” she demanded. “Why?”

A flash of bloodstained fangs. “Just for the fun. Why
else?”

Always she asked, and always she received the same reply, no
matter that each of her opponents was different. The creatures came once, only
once, and after raining havoc, creating chaos, they disappeared forevermore.
If
they survived.

She’d cried after her first kill—and her second and her
third—despite the fact that the creatures had only ever wanted to hurt her.
There was just something so terrible about taking a life, no matter the reason
for doing so. Hearing the last breath rattle…watching the light dim in someone’s
eyes…and knowing you were responsible… She always thought of her parents.
Somewhere along the way, her heart had hardened into a block of stone and she’d
stopped crying.

The backup guards finally arrived, three hard bodies slamming
into her from behind and knocking her to the ground. When she crashed, she
crashed hard, cracking her already injured cheek on the tile. She experienced a
sharp lance of pain as the taste of old pennies filled her mouth, coated her
tongue. More of those too-bright stars winked through her vision, corrosive
things that grew…grew…blinding her.

That blindness panicked her, reminding her of that terrible,
fateful morning so long ago. “Let me go! I mean it!”

Inflexible knees dug into her bleeding shoulders, her back and
her legs, and rough fingers pressed all the way to bone. “Be still.”

“I said let me go!”

Horsey must have fled because the scent of rot was suddenly
replaced by the scent of bacon and aftershave, warm breath caressing her cheek.
She didn’t allow herself to cringe, didn’t allow herself to reveal her
abhorrence for the doctor now looming over her.

“That’s enough out of you, Annabelle,” Fitzpervert said in a
chiding tone.

“Never enough,” she replied, forcing herself to calm on her
own. Deep breath in, deep breath out. The more emotion she displayed, the more
sedative he would have to use.

“Tsk, tsk. You should have played nice. I could have helped
you. Sleep now,” he crooned.

“Don’t you dare—” Her jaw went slack a second after the
expected pinch in her neck. In a blink of time, there was white lightning in her
vein, spreading just as swiftly as the stars.

Though she despised this feeling of helplessness and knew
Fitzpervert would be paying her a visit later, though she fought with every bit
of her remaining strength, Annabelle slipped into the waiting darkness.

ISBN: 9781460306420

BEAUTY AWAKENED

Copyright © 2013 by Gena Showalter

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