Reapers -- The First Familiar (Reapers Chronicles Book II)

28 - Luci's Lab (2 of 2)

A low, guttural bark made me open my eyes.

I was standing inside a building with white floor, walls and ceiling. The concrete panel to my left had crumbled and the floor had these odd hack marks the size of my arm.

As I struggled to understand what was happening or where I was, someone landed fifteen degrees to my left. On instinct, I spun the scythe that was conveniently available in my hand and swung it downwards with ease and precision I didn’t know I even had a drop of.

Instead of hitting the enemy though, the tip of the blade raked over the white flooring, leaving a large hack mark on.

So that’s where it’s from.

A crimson monstrous claw lashed out at me, ripping my robe and tearing a good inch into my ribcage. Still unable to shake the daze, I stepped back, pressing a hand on the bleeding wound. The pain didn’t even have the chance to sink in before it started healing.

Confused, I stared at my scythe, then at my reflection marred by the long vein-like crack along its smooth glassy surface. My left eye was bloodshot, with the usual gray and a strange brownish-green appearing to push at each other to see which color would earn its spot.

I caught a reflection of the crimson claws right behind me.

Quickly, I spun on my heels, feet apart, stance low. I shielded myself with the flat of my blade. Almost immediately, the claw collided with my scythe, jarring my knees. Metal clinked against talons.

I groaned and pushed back.

Just over the blunt of the scythe’s blade, a pair of silvery eyes looked back at me.

“Vincent!”

I automatically let my blade falter. As it had evaporated into a cool mist, Vincent’s Cataclyst pushed through the resistance and rammed into my chest like a wrecking ball.

I rolled onto the floor, skipping twice like a rock thrown on a lake before landing on my face.

My torso felt like it had been pounded on until tender. All the pleasure of my broken ribs realigning and my sternum fusing coursed throughout my body as though I was under a stampede. The raging bulls wore spiked metal shoes.

A cough made it out of my mouth, stirring the chalky dust on the floor. I spat blood and gasped for air.

“V-vincent…” I croaked.

A huge blur of brownish red curled around me. The soft shaggy fur felt warm on my face. It smelled like peanut butter and was growling ominously.

I almost smiled when I realized it was Byron Flynn. The fur over his back bristled, his belly vibrating against my back before a loud bark rolled out of his muzzle.

Writhing and twisting on the floor, I chewed on my lips to force back the whimpers. Bones clicked. Muscles squirmed and stretched. Organs shifted. My body was being torn in two.

Patches of red blocked my sight. Still, I managed to stay awake.

Somehow, I saw feet stepping towards me. One had a leather hunting boot on while the other was covered in a cast of already crumbling plaster and ripped bandages. How Vincent’s leg healed in such a short amount of time was a mystery to me. But then, the fact that injuries were healing almost instantaneously could only mean that we were not in Halja anymore.

“It’s not her, Byron Flynn,” Vincent warned, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. “Get away.”

The dog whined, nudging my face with his wet snout.