Ryder's Angel

Chapter Thirty-Five: The Battle: Angeline

Chapter Thirty-Five: The Battle

The halls were packed, but no one spoke. The only sound was the wind, which was picking up speed. The sky was black and swirling with red, like a black hole, the physical anger of one of Hutch’s men. The roads were empty and eerie, and I felt hollow. My heart was as black as the sky, ready to rip some heads off. Hutch would be so disappointed once he found out his plan will foil.

I stood at the front with Danny, Sienna, and Claire at the window, watching as the sky swirled. Danny’s shoulder was pressed against mine.

“Good luck,” he whispered over the loud breeze.

“Have fun tearing skin,” I teased motionlessly.

He laughed once humorlessly and kissed me fiercely.

And then they came.

Dozens upon hundreds of mutants everywhere. Roaring, yelling, snarling; morphing, teleporting, flying. They were dressed in battle gear, they had weapons, they had bared teeth. Red eyes, yellow eyes, and black. Hutch was at the front with Hex and Slayer. He had a mocking grin.

His voice carried, but we held our positions. My heart froze at his deep tone, but my eyes only narrowed. “Dear Angeline, how good it is to see you,” he called. He was dressed in magnificent clothes, but they were light enough to fight. “Where is your part of the bargain?”

Time for the cold truth. I made my voice icy and emotionless, cruel. “Your child is dead, Hutch!”

Distorting rage covered his face. It was ugly and inhuman. A nasty snarl, like a mask, was there. His men got rowdier and the breeze blew harder. My hair whipped around my face and came loose of the hair band. I grinned wickedly in satisfaction.

“You’ll pay, Angel!” he roared. But then his eyes flickered to my left, where Danny was standing. A grim smile was all it took.

With a bloodcurdling screech that scraped my ear drums, I launched myself out of the window. My claws slid out and then it was an all-out war.

War!

I hacked and sliced, ripped and twisted. Blood splattered my face, my clothes, my tongue. My nose burned with the smell, my head spun. I was cut on my arm, but I didn’t stop.

Cut off his head. Trip him and plunge my claws in his heart. Throw him into a building. Drag him in the air and drop him. Be battle hard, smile in his face and kill him. Rip his heart out and toss him aside. Watch the light leave his eyes and take no mercy.

I was a coldhearted murderer, and I didn’t care.

Screams and snarls poisoned the air and blood pooled everywhere. I could barely see because the breeze blew my hair in my eyes and the smell made me blind, but I hardly got hurt. Then I heard a familiar western voice.

“Hey there, beautiful.”

I spun around and saw Hex, his face bloody and mauled. I bared my teeth. “Hello, Hex,” I growled.

“This is fun, isn’t it?”

I gutted a man sneaking up behind me and he fell back, dead. “Oh, yes,” I smirked.

“Good,” he snarled, taking a stance, “then let’s dance.”

We launched ourselves at each other, sending out a hard impact as we collided. We rolled over and over, clawing and snarling, down the street. We bowled over several people. I kicked him off with my feet, sending him flying into a building, but he quickly got back up. I didn’t have time to catch my breath. He locked his arms around my neck, but I unfolded my wings with as much force as a wrecking ball and he propelled into the concrete and lay there, dazed. I stood over him like an angel of death.