Forever Knight [Harmione]

Chapter 30: Tested

As it was, Hermione fought back the urge to gag and double over.  Breathless though vampires may be, the blood flowing through them was a comforting stream.  Violent disruptions like the slashing of one’s throat caused an abrupt change in rhythm.  It was disorienting. 

Clearing her mind, Hermione raised her sword and blocked the follow-up slash. 

Deardra reversed her spin in a split heartbeat. 

Hermione saw the wing closing in on her.  It was like a solid wall, black feathers hiding hard muscle and sinew.  Bracing her sword with both hands, she turned and felt the wing brush at her back just before she spun to position herself on the other side of it.  With all her strength, she swung down, the bite of blade against cartilage distinct and hard.

Deardra’s shriek filled the air just before the cartilage gave.

Hermione tore through Deardra’s wing, slicing most of it off.  There wasn’t much blood, but it looked horribly painful. 

The second wing swung at Hermione and it clocked her on the head.  She felt her head spin as she crashed to the icy cobbled ground. 

Wasting no time, Hermione shook off the haze even while invisible fingers pressed viciously into her skull. 

Deardra had retransformed, her healthy wing disappearing into her while her injured one remained protruding.  She reached for her back, pulling out Hermione’s aikuchi with an agonized moan. 

Her sight still shaky, Hermione hefted her sword into form as she spoke to buy herself some time to recover.  “So… how much did Janus pay you to work for them?  Or are you taking money from humans now?”

Deardra sneered.  “Least I work for money.  You, on the other hand, work for dick.  He as good as they say he is?”

That was surprisingly offensive, and Hermione realized that it angered her to hear Harry objectified.

So this is how guys feel when jerks talk shit about their girlfriend.

The rage shot adrenaline through her.  It was like a puzzle cinching into place, the way Hermione felt her faltering focus returning.  Her determination pumped raw power into her body while years of training harnessed it into a deadly, razor-sharp blade.

Hermione moved, pushing forward with her sword raised.

Deardra responded, hefting the aikuchi in one hand and growing her claws in the other. 

Hermione swung her katana upward, deflecting the aikuchi.  The aikuchi flew into the air, but the claws swooped underneath.  Hermione felt nails rip diagonally down her thigh and the pain made her buckle to one knee, but sucking in the instinct to wail and whine she concentrated on a quick counter.  Hermione swept her sword into a looping, upward arc and attempted to slice through Deardra’s side.  Deardra jumped back to avoid it.

On pure instinct, Hermione flowed into a third attack.  Bracing her palm on the butt of her sword, she levered her injured thigh, thrust forward and sank her blade through Deardra’s gut.

Deardra’s scream gurgled in her throat as blood poured out of her mouth.  Caught, but not defeated, Deardra pulled Hermione’s sword in deeper.  Hermione lunged, gasping at the unexpected move, just before Deardra sank her claws into Hermione’s stomach, twisting as she went.

Hermione bit down her scream.  Her body battered and sliced, this new pain seemed to top it all.    

Deardra grinned through blood-stained fangs.  “Betcha yours hurts more than mine.”