Connor sighed as he crawled into the shower. He felt horrible. That creature had been powerful in her own way but this wasn’t what he had expected. He shivered as he felt the power within him. He stripped himself of hic clothing and stepped into the shower. He moved into the spray peeling off the patches of clear gel that had remained on his body. The shifters had changed. Connor lunged for the knob, the water was too hot. He wanted a colder one. The icy water stung his skin. Why was he burning up? He didn’t get sick too easily.
Connor felt himself circled. The “goddess” stood aside letting her cronies do her bidding. He snarled at them. His lips curling into a sneer. They laughed. He bared his teeth.
In a blink the lunged at him he didn’t even blink as he started to fight them. One of them lost their arm the other part of his leg. It didn’t take log for them to change to regain their limbs but not before falling screaming. He shuddered as he made contact with the pavement. He was pulling himself up slowly. He saw he was fighting jaguars. So that is what the shifters were. He was still aware of the goddess standing, watching. Her eyes though now were solid black. It was like a witch or warlock when they were using a great amount of magic than simple spells.
He didn’t have much time to think as they launched themselves. He wasn’t stupid. He couldn’t get scratched or bitten by the creatures. He didn’t think he could handle it. A lycanthrope son of two vampires. That was more than he could bear to think of at the moment. He knew feline was less contagious but he was not going to take the chance.
He’d have to treat them like demons but he couldn’t kill them as much as he wanted too. How was he going to feel for killing them? He probably wouldn’t care like usual. Monsters were still monsters. He snarled as one of them jumped over him. He had to side roll and drop his sword. No problem. Looking up he saw nothing to give him an advantage upwardly. So he decided to just go for the kill. One of the shifters made a killing move it seemed. Connor leapt to intercept him and jumped on his back with a quick snap the were’s neck was snapped. He didn’t even give it a second thought as he jumped back avoiding another. One down, four to go. The goddess looked anything but pleased.
He managed to maneuver toward his sword picking it up. With a swing there went one and another. He didn’t kill them he just injured them badly. One mark exposed too many organs that Connor had to look away from the beating heart. The other was luckier but his spine may have been damaged. Two to go. Connor muffled a scream as one of them latched on his arm quickly he plunged the sword in the skull as it pulled back. One are down. One to go.
Connor cursed himself the goddess. Was moving toward him and power was around. She radiated it, smelled it.
The woman poised her self he barely managed to avoid the blast. But it didn’t feel good, at all. Painful death. Was it even death? It hit one of here cats. Whether dead or alive he didn’t know. Where the hell was the last one? He couldn’t see it.
He didn’t smile. He moved his arm. It wasn’t as bad as he expected. He chastised himself. This was lesser than what he had experience growing up. He need not be hesitant. He was not Connor he was the Destroyer. He grinned as he saw the two injured jaguars stand. This was their end.
Connor sighed as he dried himself off. He felt better. Obsidian Butterfly, that had been the vampire’s name. She had done it to him but he felt it leave. He didn’t find it. Was he being observed? His own body was fighting it. He smiled. He frowned looking at his arm. Several puncture wounds but hopefully nothing serious. He couldn’t help but laugh at them. He’d wear a long sleeved shirt. Too bad it wasn’t winter, a jacket would help hide it better. He wrapped the arm.
He gathered his items and headed toward the guest room. He headed toward bed. Whatever became of this was now not his care. He wanted sleep. Lying in bed he sighed. He should have stayed home.
Edward looked over the scene. Five shifters slaughtered and Obsidian Butterfly nearly dead. This scared Edward in a way. The vampire was not what he was afraid of but what she could do. What was more powerful than her? She spoke little to the police and him. She identified her attacker only as the “Destroyer of Gods”. Edward wondered. Anita. The Red Woman’s Husband had claimed to be a god so did this vampire. Had Anita done this? Edward had many questions. Only he knew one thing. If Anita was not responsible something was going to die and Edward wasn’t sure if it wasn’t going to be him this time.
Moving toward one of the bodies he looked at the shifter. Neck was nearly a hundred and eighty degrees. He looked at the Vampire. Though still late it was nearing dawn. The authorities were going to take her back to her establishment. She didn’t have enough power to make it on her own it appeared. He walked toward Obsidian Butterfly, his eyes cold but his voice serious. “How did that shifter break have his neck snapped?” She looked at him.
“Hands. Human hands.” Her eyes were solid. He said no more. He had to call Anita.