The Fae

Umbra's heart beat to the rhythm of Asher’s footsteps, growing ever closer. He kept his head pointed forward, not daring to look at Victor. Asher couldn't know his son was here.

“Well, well, well,” a dark voice hissed, “If I woulda known Umbra Mortis was the prisoner Pilate had, I would have actually come when Pilate texted me. I'm kinda surprised the brat actually managed to capture you.”

Umbra lifted his eyes, seeing Asher leaning against the doorway. He wore a tattered sweatsuit that fit ill over his stocky frame, and his long red hair was tied into a ponytail.

He has no idea Victor's here, Umbra thought, This is good. I need to play along with whatever he's talking about.

“That's right,” Umbra snarled, showing off his elongated canine teeth, “It's the one and only Umbra Mortis. I've been waiting for an opportunity to beat the crap out of you again.”

Asher snorted, letting his gaze linger on Umbra's naked chest. He ran his tongue across his lips. “Whatever, Umbra. While I would love to play all day with you, I'm afraid I have a job to do.”

As if on cue, men shuffled behind Asher, spilling out from the hall. Umbra stopped counting as the odds grew slimmer. He swallowed, dryness creeping down his throat.

Instinctively, he fell back on his heel, but his blood ran cold. Drawing back rose the chances of Victor being discovered. Gritting his teeth, he harkened back to his training: Victor's life was his responsibility. He had to protect him.

No matter what.

The heavy iron pole of his war scythe greeted his palm. He dipped his head, a sign of both submission and preparation for the fight of his life. He took a deep, cleansing breath and charged.

Asher slipped into his bird form, perching on the door frame as his men ran to meet Umbra.

Everything turned into a squirl of bloodlust and cold emotion when Umbra's blade first met flesh. The wide reach of his weapon allowed him to seamlessly decapitate the closest person to him. Adrenaline surged through his veins as he cleaved through limbs and torsos.

A devastating sock to the jaw sent Umbra reeling, and he felt bones click. Howling, he stabbed forward, quickly extinguishing his foe. A circle of men surrounded him, and Umbra sought to slaughter them all.

Gashes and bruises traced Umbra's entire body as he sliced through the masses, a bloody froth of desperation bubbling down the corner of his mouth. It was one against way too many, and Umbra was starting to feel it.

Umbra's world was a red-tinged sea of viscera, bone, and limbs as he recklessly dove farther into the throng, screaming as he swung his war scythe across a man’s neck. Another head rolled at Umbra's feet, and he heaved for breath. His muscles were tingling. He was breaking down.

Slam! A punch rattled across Umbra's back. He dropped his weapon, coughing and gasping. Blood splattered on the floor, and Umbra whimpered. He turned on his heels, lashing out with his sharp nails. He clawed his attacker in a frenzy, leaving long, bloody furrows. Tears bit through the thick layer of blood and sweat on Umbra's cheeks.

Umbra had failed to notice the man behind him. A knife sunk through the small of his back, it's silver tip meeting Umbra's eyes as it protruded through his abdomen. His knees wobbled, and he fell.

The men clambered over him in a dog pile, pinning the much thinner fae down. Umbra clawed and writhed mirthlessly, but he was trapped against the concrete floor, the taste of blood filling his mouth. Blow after blow struck his body, and throbbing pain distorted Umbra’s vision. It took all of his power to fight to breathe.

Umbra's senses were muddled, a daze of pain and injury driving his head to the ground. Hot, sticky blood pooled against the side of his head.

A dark shape descended from the ceiling, and Umbra attempted to roll his eyes upward. Asher glowered over him, arms behind his back.

“That's enough,” he said simply, nodding his head.

The pressure was lifted from Umbra’s body, and he gasped for breath, nearly choking on the blood that had amassed under his mouth. His brain screamed to get up, to fight, but his muscles refused. Stripped of his dignity, he laid trembling before Asher.

Asher knelt down, gripping Umbra by the chin. He hit a bruise, and Umbra bit his tongue to keep himself from groaning.

“So, Umbra,” Asher hissed, smugness dripping off his voice like water, “How about we have a little chat?”

Author's Note- this was perhaps the most violent scene in the series so far

and uh-oh! lets hope asher is nice...