Evanescent - By Addison Moore Page 0,3

Lacey’s voice collapsing with fear.

I stare at the blood on my blade a very long time as bodies swarm around me—blood and feathers rise to the sky with the laughter of the Counts intermingled.

We’re hurting them, removing them from the planet in the most hostile manner possible. I never wanted to hurt anybody or anything and here I had become one of them, assimilated, easy as breathing.

My head explodes with a pain so electric my vision blurs, and a wave of nausea rolls through me.

A hand flops over my shoulder, and I look up to find Grayson snarling at me with her perfect bowtie pout, her deep-well of a cleavage prominently displayed through the plunge in her robe. Those long blonde locks, those wide haunted eyes make her look like the goddess of seduction even in this distorted world of shadows.

The sharp slice of her blade strikes me just above the elbow, and I jump back from her reach.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She brings a perfectly manicured hand to her lips, but I could still make out her smile—hear the glee in her voice. “Did I nick you?”

I could stab her. In this dark chaos, I could gut both her and Kresley and chalk it up to a happy accident.

“Laken!” Wes shouts from the opposite end of the stone.

A hard wallop crashes over my skull, and I drop to my knees. A trickle of warm liquid runs down my temple, highlighting the headache I already had brewing.

The world blinks in and out of focus. The crowd begins to clear from the stone as Wes speeds over, but it’s the birds that hold my attention—dozens of them squawking in pain, their bodies writhing from their wounds. These were far more than simple punctures. These animals were set up to suffer, agonize for hours—days, with inflictions that would prove to be lethal.

There is no truer analogy of the Counts than this right here. The capture of an innocent creature—making it bleed in the name of the Countenance and their false values.

My body quakes as I take in the mayhem. To do nothing would be to yield to the wickedness—to bow to it, become it.

I jab my knife against the stone as I crawl to my knees. I need to do something—I need to help.

The most humane way to kill a beast is by breaking its neck. Death, in and of itself, is sometimes the most sought after respite from suffering.

I try to stand, but my foot glides in a slick of blood.

Wes reaches for me, but I give him a violent push in the opposite direction.

Instead, my blade finds the long velvet necks of each one of those birds as I carry out a decapitating spree that goes on for what feels like hours.

“Shit, Laken!” Fletch roars in disbelief at the carnage I’ve inflicted. “What the fuck?”

“They were suffering.” I glance up at the crowd with their hoods pulled back, their eyes locked in horror. I rise to my feet, the blade steady in my hand—blood dripping to my ankles. I latch my gaze over Wes as I try to steady my breathing. “I won’t let anything, or anybody, suffer.”

Especially not Celestra. Although it’s not their heads I’m after.

It’s the Counts.

Cooper

Henderson Hall is pumping with bodies that gyrate to the over processed bass.

I push through the crowd, making my way toward the back. All I really want to do is find a nice spot to keep an eye on the door. Laken texted an hour ago and said she was just about to step in the shower—that the slaughter went well.

I know for a fact it went better than well. I saw the whole thing materialize like some horror movie through a pair of night vision goggles that Flynn let me borrow.

A soft body rubs against me from behind. I’m guessing its female, equipped with 46 double D’s. A hand emerges from between my legs and cups me with a firm squeeze.

“Whoa.” I take a solid step forward, and Grayson bounces into my line of vision.

“Gotcha!” She winks. Her breath washes over me with some serious beer blowback. “Wanna play?” She wraps a finger around one of her lone blonde curls and pulls it through her lips in an effort to get my dick riled up.

“I’m good.” I swipe a soda off the table in a lame attempt to keep my hands busy.

“Oh hon, you’re not gonna have any fun with that.” She snatches the can from me and backs me into a