A Drop Of Haunted Blood

Chapter Thirty-One: Fangs

Felix, Mason, and Arisa made their way up to the second floor, outside of Ernest's spell of darkness. Light spilled in through the windows. Lamps in the rooms along the hall cast a soft glow.

When the sound of hushed voices became audible ahead of them, the group slowed and pressed themselves against the wall to their right. Mason took the lead, and Felix found himself at the back of the line as they crept toward the intersection looming ahead.

"—asked her for backup," Ernest was saying. "They should arrive soon. This wasn't the plan, but if we do enough damage tonight, taking Bright Castle later will be easy."

"What if they don't arrive in time?" Eliza hissed in reply. "If we lose our advantage—"

"It's too late to change course," Ernest told her. "We can only move forward. Now get back to the fight."

A new voice spoke. "Trust in Mira."

Felix frowned. The man sounded familiar.

"Hugo's right," Ernest said. "We'll return to her, and she'll come up with a new strategy."

Footsteps faded into the distance. A hand grabbed Felix's shoulder, making him jump. He whirled around.

"Sorry." It was Michael Beck. "Didn't mean to scare you. Everyone from the Uprising is trying to find you. We need to get you out of here."

"Not without the wand," Mason said, leaning forward to peer at Michael.

Michael's gaze flickered to Mason. "I understand. Okay, how about this? You go grab the wand and meet us outside." He pulled Felix toward him.

"No way, we're not splitting again," Arisa said.

Felix hesitated. He pulled his arm from Michael's grasp. "I appreciate it, but we need to get the wand. We can handle it."

Michael's gaze darkened. "Felix, please. You're going to get yourself killed."

Uneasiness crept into Felix's chest. He took a step back.

A second copy of Michael materialized from nothing. The second Michael grabbed Arisa, drew a dagger, and held it to her neck.

Felix's heart stopped. "Arisa!"

Mason raised his fists, but two more copies of Michael appeared behind him and grabbed him. One pressed a dagger to the side of his face. Sigils in the blade glowed. Mason yelped in pain as his skin burned.

"I mean it when I say I don't want to hurt any of you," the original Michael said. "Unlike Ernest, I'm trying to avoid casualties. But they're inevitable when you're at war."

"You're—you can't be with the Uprising," Felix stammered. "You didn't know the demons were here, and you didn't join the other council traitors—"

"I thought it would be unwise to blow my cover so quickly." Michael took a step toward Felix. "Seems I was right."

"Why?" Felix asked, mirroring the motion with another step back. "What the hell are you fighting for, anyway?"

"The king is wrong. About Guardians, about monsters, about how to run his sad excuse for a kingdom. The Last Army will save far more innocent people than the Bright Guardians ever did."

Arisa glared at Michael. "How can you possibly say you care about innocent people when the Uprising killed so many Guardians? Do you have any idea how many died because of Ernest's masking spells?"

"The Guardians know what they signed up for," Michael replied, eyes still on Felix. "This is all for the greater good. Now, Felix, your best chance is to come with me." Another step forward. "Ernest wants you dead, but I'm willing to keep you alive. I believe you have something we need."