Chapter 32

When Mia arrived at the semi-collapsed house, she found Arthur taunting and toying with one man in camouflage and another in a suit. Three other men, broken and bleeding, were strewn about the room among toppled and guttering candles. Mia ignored them all, completely unable to tear her sight from the form of her injured lover. If she couldn't hear the slow and feeble beating of his heart, she would have believed him to be dead. Flaps of skin hung loosely from his torso, flayed off by the touch of a whip. A low, pained moan of sympathy escaped her lips as she saw the manner in which he was being suspended from the floor.

Her attention was drawn by the crack of gunfire, hugely amplified in the enclosed space. The man in the suit, now the only one still standing, had abandoned his bow and raised a large handgun, which he held in a double handed grip. Not even Arthur could dodge bullets in such close quarters. Large bloody holes appeared in the back of Arthur's suit jacket as the agent rapidly emptied his clip. If Arthur experienced any pain from these injuries, he showed no sign of it. Laughing lightly, he darted forward and grabbed the agent's hands and gun. Mia heard the crackle of bones breaking and the agent sank to his knees, his face pale with pain.

Taking advantage of Arthur's distraction, Mia rushed into the basement with all the speed she could muster. She raised hands rippling with change in front of her as she charged. Her deadly, sharp claws were mere feet from his back when he spun, dodging her blow even as his free arm flailed out at her. She had too much momentum to be able to dodge quickly; Arthur's arm caught her shoulder and flung her into the wall with such force that dust filtered down from the weathered floor boards above them.

As Mia regained her feet, Arthur took hold of the agent's wrists and swung him forcefully around. Mia dove back down to the floor and rolled beneath the blow, hearing the wind whistle around the agent's body as he passed above her and then the sickening wet thud as he impacted with the wall.

Mia sprang to her feet and spun to face her adversary. Arthur had dropped the dead agent and now sported claws of his own.

They circled each other for a moment until Arthur called out, "Wake up, Thomas! Your white knight has arrived to save you!" He then cackled with derisive laughter.

Tom laboriously raised his head, and his eyes opened to the merest of slivers. "Just run, Mia," he croaked despairingly, "Don't worry about me. Just run."

"Yes, Bergthora, why don't you run?" Arthur cried out in delight, "Hunting you down and catching you would be ever so much fun. I'll even give you a minute head start. Of course, I will amuse myself with your friend while I wait."

Mia refused to be distracted. Gritting her teeth, she altered the changes to her arms and hands so that her skin became hard and chitinous and then moved forward to attack. The room echoed with a sound like continuous rolling thunder as the two immortals exchanged a flurry of blows, parries and feints. Within moments, both were covered in a light sheen of blood and their clothing was in tatters from where claws had only narrowly missed striking true.

After a particularly violent exchange, they separated and circled each other. Arthur gazed at Mia with grudging respect, "I have to say, my dear Bergthora, that fighting for the life of your mate has done wonders for your cunning and ardor. I am most impressed. Most impressed, indeed."