Bloody Retribution: A Paranormal and Urban Fantasy (The Fury of a Vampire Witch Book 3) by Theophilus Monroe

Author:Theophilus Monroe [Monroe, Theophilus]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-09-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

The darkness swallowed us whole as we entered the cave. I could barely see two feet in front of me, even with my vampire vision. In the faerie realm, some of my vampiric abilities were intact. I could still run fast and had all my strength. When it came to light sensitivity, though, the sun in the Seelie Forest didn’t burn our skin and my eyes didn’t adjust to darkness. I held out my hands, my wand in my right, as we trounced through the black abyss. I half expected to greet a stalactite with my schnoz at any moment.

Something wet and slimy smacked into the back of my head.

“What the hell?” I whipped around, glaring into the shadows. “I think I just got hit by a spitball!”

“Just keep moving,” he said with a chuckle. “We’re almost there.”

Another object pelted me, this time hitting my shoulder. It felt like a damn pebble. I growled, whipping around in the direction it came from.

Mad cackling echoed through the cavern, followed by a chorus of off-key shrieking. “We are terrible goblins! Turn back now or face our wrath!”

I rolled my eyes. So much for faeries not being able to lie. Perhaps these little buggers were convinced that they were, in fact, goblins. Or playing a role wasn’t exactly a lie—more like a performance. Whatever the case, I was beginning to think the whole truthful faerie thing was bullshit. Too many loopholes, it didn’t matter.

“Yeah, real terrifying,” I shouted into the darkness. “Is that the best you got?”

Something small and prickly rained down on us. Twigs, it seemed. I batted them away irritably. One poked me right in the eye.

“Ow! Son of a—”

Ladinas grabbed my arm, halting my tirade. “Mercy, look.”

A dim light reflected off his eyes. I followed his gaze. Up ahead, a faint blue glow emanated from deeper in the cave. That had to be Oblivion.

My fists clenched. I was so close. No way was I letting a few pebble-throwing and spitball-hurling cretins stop me now.

“Let’s go,” I said sharply.

We hurried on, ignoring the continued pelting of spitballs, pebbles, twigs, and something that had a foul odor—probably faerie shit. Delightful.

As we drew closer, shadows leaped out from behind rocks, waving their arms and yelling. I jumped the first time, then cursed myself for it.

It was downright pathetic, though admittedly amusing. The clurichauns, or wannabe goblins, were shorter than freaking garden gnomes. They held little lights, some kind of bioluminescent flowers, under their chins in a futile attempt to look more menacing. Their masks were crinkled, poorly drawn, and their “battle cries” were nothing but drunken slurs.

Still, their antics were slowing us down. Patience has never been my virtue—and these clurichauns were all kinds of annoying. I was two seconds away from lighting the whole place up with my incendia spell.

We were going to have words when this was over. For now, getting that sword took priority. I quickened my pace, swatting aside a yowling clurichaun like a bug.

Up ahead, the blue glow was brighter, pulsing from a stone altar.

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