Blood & Vengeance by A.D. Brazeau

Author:A.D. Brazeau [Brazeau, A.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: A.D. Brazeau

Chapter

Sixteen

Jaxon

* * *

Finding purchase on the uneven terrain of the swamp was difficult. Jaxon, grunting with frustration, climbed out of the murk, Desiree squirming against him.

He hauled her up on the exposed roots of a twisted, old tree, then collapsed alongside her, heedless to the rough, hard wood underneath him. They were no longer wallowing in the mire, and that was all that mattered at the moment.

Smoke from the burning cabin filled the swamp, the overhead canopy creating a ceiling that didn’t allow for much ventilation.

Desiree rolled over on her stomach, coughing into her sleeve. Jaxon could tell she was trying to stifle the sound, but there wasn’t much she could do if she couldn’t breathe. She was only human. Jaxon, though annoyed by the smoke, could breathe through the haze without much problem.

From where they were, he could see the back of the cabin, black smoke curling out the back window, flames licking the exterior wooden slats.

Theron and Lucian had not come out the window, but Jaxon wasn’t sure he would have heard the splash of water. The blaze of the fire, the snapping and crackling of wood, was so loud Jaxon could hear nothing else. There was no sign of them nor was there any sign of the Mistress or her dark minions.

He hesitated, unsure of what to do next. Should he leave Desiree in the shadows and make his way back to the cabin? If Theron and Lucian were still inside, surely, they had perished. But if they’d somehow made it out the front door, they’d find themselves at a disadvantage. They’d be tired, faced with an entourage of evil they were probably ill prepared for. Even Theron, powerful as he was, would be worn from the fire. And could he fight an entire coven of powerful, dark witches who were prepared for them? Lucian, he was even less sure of. Jaxon knew witches were not immortal, they could die in much the same ways as a human being. A witch could prolong a lifespan, but not indefinitely. The Mistress had clearly prolonged hers for some time. What made witches so unpredictable, as far as Jaxon could tell, were the powers they may or may not wield. As Theron had said before.

As Jaxon sat against the trunk of the old tree, Desiree still lying on her stomach beside him, a blast shook the swamp.

Desiree gasped, turning around. She struggled to her feet, her gown a sopping weight around her legs.

Jaxon shot up next to her.

“What was that?” she asked.

“I imagine that was Theron,” Jaxon said.

Desiree made to move forward, but he caught her wrist. “Wait, the cabin. Look.”

As they watched, sheltered under the heavy branches of the swamp tree, the cabin, consumed by flames, seemed to shudder, then it collapsed into a hill-sized pile of burning rubble.

“Theron,” Desiree muttered, her voice laced with pain.

“They made it out.” Jaxon continued to stare at the fire, hoping to see movement. There was none, from their friends or anyone else. The Mistress and her dark witches seemed to have disappeared as swiftly as they arrived.

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