The Defiance of Vim (Catalyst Book 4) by C.J. Aaron (graded readers txt) 📕

Even as the footsteps of the second receded rapidly, the sound of heavy thumps of footfalls echoed from the floor above.

“Sorry, my dear, I’m afraid your shower’s gonna be cold today.” He laughed awkwardly to himself. His voice was devoid of any shred of compassion. It dripped with lust. “We’ll be sure to keep you warm. ’Tis a pity your flock has vanished. You’ll have to do.”

The woman’s feet squeaked again as she struggled to work herself into a standing position. The burning anger swelled in Ryl’s veins. He readied himself to attack.

The captive was not Kaep. At the moment though, it mattered not. He’d allow none to suffer that baseless cruelty if he could prevent it. The alexen churned as their revulsion matched his own.

The guard entered, mumbling unintelligibly to himself. The light from his lantern illuminated his captive. Her hair was disheveled, clumps of stray silver locks hung down, and the rest remained in a messy bun atop her head. Her wizened face was attractive, though twisted by anger and fear.

Ryl resisted the gasp that threatened to announce his presence.

He recognized that face.

Breila. The madam of the Proper’s East.

The snarl curled up his lips as the fire exploded in his veins.

Chapter 28

The guard neared the center of the slickened room. Only a matter of a few meters separated him from Breila, who trembled where she stood. The light from the lantern now flooded the room to the extent of its range.

For the first time the corner where Ryl remained was partially illuminated.

“Let’s get you out of those filthy clothes,” the guard hissed as he approached.

Breila’s eyes went wide in shock as she noted the ghastly apparition lurking behind her captor. The extent of the lewd comment seemed to be lost in her expression.

Ryl placed his index finger to his lips, mouthing hush. Biela’s body tensed.

The guard held the lantern in his left hand, closest to Ryl’s position. It took but a moment for the wind to swell around Ryl’s right arm. A pointed flick of his right wrist sent a focused gust toward the guard’s light. The unprotected flame flickered before extinguishing.

Ryl placed his right foot on the wall, using the support to launch himself forward. Even without the use of additional speed, in the close confines of the room, he reached the guard in an instant. The man would receive no quarter.

The lack of light fazed him little. His enhanced senses seemed to come alive as the alexen raged through his body. Coming in from behind, Ryl chopped the back of the guard’s legs with the dormant blade in his left hand. The unsuspecting soldier’s feet were wrenched out from underneath him. His arms swung up above his head. The lantern slipped from his fingers, smashing into the wall just above the door to the room. Shards of glass mixed with the flammable fluid raining down over the doorway and walls. The noxious tang of the unburnt liquid overpowered the cleaning solvent that had doused the room countless times in the past.

Ryl had spun after upending the guard. He let the woodskin form on his right hand; in an instant it was solid. The heft was incredible, though his muscles were prepared for the weight. With the helpless man airborne, he hammered his hardened fist into the guard’s chest. The force of the impact crushed his body downward. His head made a sickening thud and crunching sound as it struck the floor.

The man lay still.

Voices of concern heralded the hastening footsteps as the group from upstairs responded to the commotion. Heavy boots thundered down the stairs. Ryl grabbed the fallen guard, hoisting him to his feet by the collar of his tunic. He held him aloft with his right hand, his fist, wrapped around a handful of fabric behind the man’s neck, supporting the guard’s head as it rolled uncontrollably. The smells of turpentine and blood mixed to form a sickening odor. The man’s body was limp.

Lifeless.

Ryl angled his body, minimizing his profile as he hid behind the corpse of the guard. His left hand, still clutching the dormant Leaves, was angled straight behind his back.

The heavy footsteps were accompanied by a distinct slapping sound of sheathed blades on legs as the guards moved with speed. The noises stopped abruptly as the group reached the door. Light spilled into the room as the first to cross the threshold stopped, his mind struggling to comprehend the peculiar scene. In one hand he held a lantern, the other a short sword.

“Kol?” he asked skeptically. “You ok?”

Ryl let the limp body of the guard fall. It crumpled on the ground at his feet, lying face down on the wet stone.

“Never again,” Ryl cursed.

The glowing blade in his hand exploded into life. The room was washed in a brilliant green glow.

The shock had yet to fully register on the face of the first to enter the room as Ryl charged. There was no time for the guard to react to his approach. The serrated, translucent blade exploded through the back of his torso as Ryl stormed forward. The momentum of his attack carried the two of them across the narrow hall. They came to an abrupt stop as they reached the stone wall opposite the door. The lantern sputtered out as it clattered to the ground.

Ryl stepped back from the lead guard, letting the body slide down the wall. A thick smear of blood remained as he crumpled. There were four remaining soldiers in the hallway. The closest worked to free their swords from their sheaths. The flickering glow from the Leaves cast dramatic shadows as Ryl stalked forward. The furthest away stood frozen like a statue, a bucket of water in each hand.

There was no time for dialogue or explanation. Ryl was on them before the first could fully clear his blade. There was no need to tap into the speed that begged for release in his