Page 42 of Of Flame and Fury

Explosive, popping sounds fill the area. Birch, ash, alder, and willow trees break free of their pots, their extending roots dragging them forward in a spastic rage. Mouths form along each knot, and they grow from plantlet to tree pretty damn quick.

Shayna is aghast and urges me back. “Dude!”

I bolt, dragging Shayna toward the closest exit. “Time to go, girls,” I say, moving faster.

Celia tosses the Nyte in her grasp in two separate pieces, her eyes widening when she sees a forest chasing us. Emme buys us time by throwing a Nyte with herforcedirectly at the encroaching trees.

What these trees do to the Nyte… Let’s just say I’ve seen my share of alarming shit. This easily makes the top five.

Branchesrameveryorificein the Nyte’s body, pushing through and back out. They knock out the eyes, slide out of the ears to wrap around his throat, and protrude through the stomach to wave bloody intestines at us. Oh, and it just gets rosier from there.

We haul ass. In all the battles I’ve faced throughout the years, I’ve never run so fast. Celia has Emme by the hand, dragging her so she doesn’t get left behind.

“Oh, my goodness. Oh, my goodness,” Emme says. “I didn’t know they were going to do that!”

The shrieks of the other Nytes the trees encounter cut through the air. “Oh,goodness,” Emme says again.

Shayna pats Emme on the arm. “It’s okay, Emme. They’re in the light now.”

I know she’s trying to make Emme feel better, but no way are those Nytes having tea with Saint Teresa.

My lungs burn with how hard I’m running and leaping over destroyed crap I have no business leaping over. I’m not a runner, damn it. I do Zumba, for shit’s sake.

We break through the exit, the cold air pummeling our chests and the damp lawn chilling our feet.

Celia grounds to halt. Even pregnant, she’s not out of breath. Shayna is breathing a little fast but is otherwise okay. Emme and I are doing awesome. And by that, I mean we’re not puking yet.

“Taran,” Celia says.

The tone in her voice is enough to alert us of danger. My right arm shoots up, lighting our surroundings. Celia’s claws are out. Shayna is flicking her wrist and spinning her sword. Her gaze takes in the Nosferatu Nytes that are suddenly there and have us enclosed.

The vampire steps out, holding Bridette by the throat. Her limbs hang loose at her sides. She locks eyes with me. It’s the only proof I have that she’s still alive.

The vampire is shirtless, allowing him to extend his white angelic wings. FYI, vampires don’t have wings.

That little turd Johnny somehow did this to him. Damn, what else has he done? And who else has he altered?

“What’s wrong?” he asks me. “Haven’t you ever seen a god?”

He flaps his wings, all pretty like, causing a feather to fall to the ground. It dissolves into the earth like a melting snowflake. At once, a plant grows, and a white flower blooms. Cute, but it won’t stop me from killing him.

“Honey, those wings don’t impress me.” I shrug. “It’s like sprinkling glitter on shit. You’re still shit, only sparkly.”

“Youbitch,” he snaps.

I sigh as if bored. “That’s my confirmation name. Try something original, freak.”

This vamp isn’t one for witty comebacks and only smart enough to surround himself with those he thinks will get him far. “Kill them,” he orders the Nytes.

“Wait,” Bridette says.

The Nytes pause and look to Bridette. They’re about as bright as the vamp.

“She is not the one you obey, fools,” the vamp yells at them.

They start to advance. Sparky flares, holding them back.

“My children,” Bridette says. Spittle leaks from her mouth from the effort it takes her to speak. “What will happen to my children?”