Free Fatal Ties: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Lillim Callina Chronicles Book 7) by J.A. Cipriano Page A

twisted my insides as I unslung my swords and bit down the rising panic inside me. I could freak out later. For now, I had to confront whatever the heck that was.
    All around me werewolves and Dioscuri were clambering back into position with a sort of serious determination that made me think this had happened many times before.
    Maybe it had. Maybe it was old hat. I mean, I’d just gotten here, but still. Still!
    An unnatural chill crawled over my skin as the serpentine claw raked furrows through the asphalt before disappearing back into the depths of the earth. I wasn’t sure why it was retreating, but as the sound of a billion footsteps rushing forward, loud even over the ringing in my ears, I almost wished we were facing whatever that had been. Sure it was big, but it was still just one creature, and I would almost always rather face one monster than many of them. Unfortunately, as a horde of undead charged forth from the hole the serpent had left in its wake, I knew today wishes were not horses.
    Vikings outfitted in rotting furs and carrying chipped axes and dented shields surged forward, making me think the incoming army had been raiding the armory of the dead for a while. Then again, if these were just grunts to throw at us, what did it matter what they were armed with? After all, enough ants could bring down a raging buffalo.
    Before I could blink, werewolves leapt the line of Dioscuri, bursting into the fray and tearing into the overwhelming ranks of the undead Vikings. Even though the werewolves were massive, they were ground underfoot almost immediately. There were just too many of the undead, and worse still, they didn’t even have to stop and fight the werewolves. If their goal was to overrun us with numbers, and it certainly seemed like it was, they just had to run by and ignore the werewolves. After all, what did it matter if the wolves took down a couple dozen Vikings if there were thousands of them?
    By the time Thes got to his feet, he’d already shifted into werewolf form, and it was truly a sight to behold. His golden fur gleamed like spun sunlight, and he was so ripped, I almost expected his abs to have abs of their own.
    A trumpet blast filled my ears, drawing my gaze back toward the battlefield in time to see a twenty-five foot tall giant lope up from behind the line of Vikings. It paused, surveying the surroundings before leaping into the air. It landed beside a werewolf with enough force to crack the street. Before the werewolf could whirl on the giant, the massive creature punted him hard enough to turn him into jelly.
    As it happened, Thes roared loud enough for my fight-or-flight reflex to go absolutely berserk. His golden fur rippled in the sunlight as he leapt like a molten god. He cleared the couple hundred feet between us and the giant in a single bound and slammed into the giant’s chest with enough force to send the massive creature crashing backward into the Vikings rallying behind it.
    The wet smack of the giant’s flesh on stone turned my stomach in a purely visceral way as the blood of those behind him squelched out across the battlefield like a smashed ketchup packet.
    Werewolves united behind Thes as he tore the throat out of the giant, his eyes already fixed on another target. Blood fountained into the air as he raised his head and howled.
    The sound shattered what little of my hearing remained and that was before a hundred other werewolves joined in. There was power in that cry. I could feel it throbbing in the air, and if I wanted to, I knew I could grab hold of it.
    As that thought occurred to me, the line of Dioscuri stepped forward and harnessed that power. They flung it into the oncoming horde. Bolts of lightning, fireballs, and every other manner of magical projectile struck the rushing wave, and as it did, I realized the truth.
    It didn’t matter.
    Not even a little.
    As Vikings went down under the hail of magic, their brethren charged over them, grinding them underfoot.