Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“I just wanted you to meet him so that you’d realize he isn’t so bad.”
“He’s a hell-dwelling demon, Xavier.”
“You’re really going to hold that he’s evil incarnate against him? Your monster is no innocent either. I don’t hold that against it.” Xavier gave her a beseeching look. “Now come on, lighten up, the gauntlet was fun last time. And considering we have a battle coming up, it might not be so bad to have a practice run.” He looked at Hattie. “You’re up for it, right?”
The old woman shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”
“What about you?” he asked Anabel.
“I’m fine with anything that will remind these people just how good Wynter is with a sword,” replied the blonde. “You know . . . just in case any think to get the none-too-wise idea to repeat Shelia’s mistake.”
Delilah nodded. “Yeah, I’m thinking it would be worth reminding them what they’d be dealing with. What about you, Wyn? If nothing else, it will get Cain all hot and bothered. That’s gotta make running the gauntlet worth it.”
Cain smiled, firing a heated look Wynter’s way. “She’s right. It will.”
No surprise there. “There’s no point in you all getting excited, we might not get chosen. They can’t possibly include everyone who signed up.”
“You’ll be chosen,” said Cain. “The organizers will worry that I’ll otherwise be offended.” Which he seemed to find amusing.
Wynter sighed. Oh, she didn’t mind the gauntlet. As Xavier said, it was fun. And there was never anything boring about indulging in a harmless battle. But she’d really hoped to just sit and snuggle with her guy while they watched a show. You know, like a normal couple. They didn’t get to do much “normal”.
Soon after, servers returned to collect the dirty dishware. Returning to the performance space, the presenter announced that the second half of the celebration would commence. The semi-finalists entertained the crowd—singers, dancers, stunts people, etc. After the winners were chosen and awarded a prize, the presenter added, “And now we reach the most popular contest by far.”
A rumble of power filled the air, raising the hairs on her nape. A long-ass ditch appeared in the ground that spanned the entire length of the performance space.
“And here we have the gauntlet,” said the presenter. “A ditch that will soon be filled with zombies. They will not be real, of course, but they will seem it—and they will attack. Do not worry, though. The gauntlet is spelled so that any injuries a fighter receives will immediately heal. The trouble is . . . such injuries will not feel or look healed, which can play tricks on a person’s mind to the point where they may even believe they are dying. This contest is not for the faint-hearted, in other words.”
Wynter could clearly recall her last encounter with the gauntlet. She’d known that her wounds were healed, but she’d nonetheless felt the pain and experienced the weakness that came with blood loss—none of it had disappeared until she exited the ditch.
“Many groups of five have signed up to partake in the competition,” the presenter continued. “Ten of said groups will be chosen. Whichever one completes the gauntlet in the fastest time will be declared the winning team.
“The objective is to battle your way through the gauntlet, killing whatever zombie lies in your path. If a participant ‘dies,’ they will be spat out of the gauntlet, but the rest of their group may continue to fight. As to what you may fight with . . . there are no limits. Magick, weapons, hellfire, shapeshifting—anything and everything is permitted. For the safety of the crowd, the spelled ropes surrounding the gauntlet ensure that any magick used within it is contained.”
The presenter began listing various groups who’d been chosen to participate—fey courts, lycan packs, demon lairs. And, as Cain predicted, her own fucking coven.
Wynter glanced at Cain, whose eyes glittered with eagerness. He really did love to watch her fight. It got his blood pumping every time.
She grunted, stood, and gestured for her coven to follow her. They left the VIP area and headed down to the performance space. There, the presenter directed them where to stand. It was only when all the chosen groups were gathered in the space that he then declared who would tackle the gauntlet first.
And, of course, he announced, “The Bloodrose Coven.”
Oh, novel.
They crossed to the presenter, who gestured at the rack of blades he’d conjured. “Any weapons you would like to use?”
“Not necessary.” Wynter called to her sword, just as Xavier and Anabel each called to their own.
Delilah took on her monstrous feline form and flexed her iron claws. Thanks to her bespelled cosmetics, she still wore pink lip gloss and peach nail polish.
Hattie shifted into a crow and quickly settled on Xavier’s shoulder. She didn’t only choose to battle as an avian because she’d then be faster and have better reflexes, she did it because her crow form negated magick—any blasts bounded right off her.