Fantastic Tales: Volume 2

Horror in the Darkness

Carmella is a Diablon, and according to her human hunters—a monster. Will they catch her and kill her like they did her family? Or will the hunters become the prey?

Dark Fantasy

Carmella hurried up the rocky slope, scratched and bleeding and gasping for breath. Her coat snagged on a bush, and she whipped it free with a grunt. She stumbled and collapsed to her knees. The earth spun beneath her, the sky whirled. She had been on the run for over a day, had barely drunk, hadn't eaten, and sleep was a distant memory. She was so exhausted, she almost contemplated giving up.

There came a distant shout, and she scrambled to her feet and clawed ahead. No, they could not catch her. If they did, they would take what they wanted then murder her. Humans were like that—violent, insatiable, completely without conscience.

The slope became steeper the further she climbed the mountain. She looked behind her. The humans were very close now, following in a trail of shining chainmail and glinting swords, gaining on her bit by bit.

'I can see her!' one of them shouted, waving his arm. 'Just there. Up ahead.'

Carmella had told herself she wouldn't cry at the end, but against her will the tears began to flow—tears of frustration and rage and sadness. They had murdered her alpha—her mate and best friend. She winced—and her child.

She sagged to the ground, face in the dirt. What did she have to live for?

A gust of wind blew through her hair. She looked up in surprise, nose lifted to the air. Hope flared in her heart. She couldn't believe it. There was another Diablon—an alpha, and he was close. She could smell it.

It wasn't over yet.

She looked behind her again. They were so close now she could smell their sweat, hear them grunt and curse as they struggled. She locked eyes with the man in front and saw his determination, his hate, his greed.

Carmella drove herself to her feet and pounded the earth. Up ahead was a rock face composed of dips and cracks and bulges—plenty of handholds. She jumped, gripped onto an outjutting rock and heaved herself up with a grunt.

She was an excellent climber, but it proved useless when an arrow whizzed close to her ear and chipped into the rock beside her. She froze, heart thundering in her chest.

'Come down from there,' a voice said smugly. 'We have you in our sights.'

'You need me alive,' she gasped. 'My tail is worthless dead.'

'True, but we can wack an arrow in your arse, and it wouldn't make a difference.'

Carmella gritted her teeth and spat into the rock, 'Come and get me then.'

'Sir Cheston, her arse is at your disposal.'

'All right.' She inched back down.

She dropped to her feet. There were six knights with several more still climbing the slope, all kitted up in their chainmail. Four grasped swords, two held bows, their arrows notched and pointed at her face. She glared at each in turn. Which one had murdered her mate, slaughtered her baby?

The leader stood at the forefront. He wore an iron helm with an eagle carved into its nose, its wings outspread across his brow. 'On your knees, and if you try anything, I'll slide my sword right through your devil's heart.'

She obeyed.

He nodded at his men. 'Sir Wensley, Sir Dutton, take her.'

Hands tied at her back, Carmella stumbled down the slope in the middle of a trail of men, five at the front, six at the rear. They had tied a rope around her waist and coat, binding her tail securely to her back. And yet, the man directly behind her kept his distance, sword at the ready. For a female Diablon, her tail was her best defence. It was deadly, its tip so sharp it could spill a man's guts.