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Time slowed. I swear I could see Samael’s expression—focused and alert and intent. He was going to kill me before Seraphus could. He had no other moves on the table. Neither did I. I almost had a split second to feel… relief.
And that was all during a female scream from inside.
But then I was rammed forward by my fast-moving father and lifted into the air, busting through the top of the covered porch with break-neck speed, and I could feel the impact on my head, blinding me with pain and numbing my thoughts.
The only thing I saw right now was fire, sparkling off the eyes of my father.
Shit had gotten real because my dragons had shown up.
And despite the fact that I imagined that they were pretty pissed at me, they had come ready to kick some ass.
I reached out, slamming the sharp end of the hard diamonds in my hands hard against the chest of the creature that held me as he grunted with annoyance. Blood dripped down the side of my face, down my nose.
“Stop fighting me!” he hissed, then tried to pull me close to his chest, apparently so that he could use magic against the dragons.
Here was the thing that was becoming super-obvious to me: he needed to start eating me when alive, but that was very hard to do when I was struggling, and his servants were all getting decimated by dragons.
And those dragons were bowling their fire down on the sidewalk.
It was the craziest fucking thing I’d ever seen—it was like they were bowling for spares. The cultists were now out of alignment, screaming and running around like confused chickens while wearing their bright-red robes that seemed very, very flammable.
I almost felt bad for them.
They bet on the wrong fucking horse.
Dragon roars lit up the sky, sounding like crunched-up metals. It was the sound that you can hear all the way down your spine and into the pit of your stomach.
Seraphus shot me further up into the air like we were attached to a rocket. I was still trying to violently kick myself free—if I fell, so what? If I died, the problem was going to go away, especially if my dragons took care of the cultists, who all seemed to have showed up for the big event.
I slammed one of my diamonds into his face, and he started to bleed. The expression he gave me was murderous.
And then he bit me, my body flush with his, his teeth tearing violently at where my shoulder joined with my neck.
I screamed—had to. It hurt every bit as much as I feared it would to have someone’s teeth cut into my flesh. And he wasn’t just piercing me like a vampire supposedly would. Oh, fucking no. He was going Dusk-till-Dawn on me.
Until he wasn’t.
He pulled back, holding me much more loosely and looked at me dazingly. “What did you do to me?” he asked, his expression distant.
He looked like he was in pain.
I didn’t ask questions. I just reached my diamonds up and slammed them into his head at the same time.
There was a blinding flash of light, the same numbing spark of electricity.
But this time, there was a blast, knocking me free and upwards, bounding head over heels into the air. For a moment, I had a searing pain up my arm, but that was forgotten about, because I was falling.
Where Seraphus was, I had no idea. Nor did I have any ideas.
I just screamed.
Yeah, skydiving was on my bucket list, but not today. And a parachute was a very important element of that fantasy. My eyes watered as the wind met with me.
“CASPIAN! MURTAGH! HELP!” I screeched, windmilling my arms around as if I could swim myself through the air. This of course, did nothing. The wind pushed back on me, the pressure intense, my hurting, bleeding head pulsing.
I was going to black out.
“HELP!” I screamed, watching the chaos beneath me coming into clearer view.
