“Pip!” Wyatt yelled.
I glanced at the hunters, confirming their locations, then punched upward, nailing the one hunter in the chin.
He toppled, unable to shout as he curled up in a ball.
Using my free hand, I grabbed the other hunter’s throat, digging my fingers in so I triggered her gag reflex.
She let go of me and dropped to her knees in a combination of gagging and coughing. I helped her to the ground by slamming my knee into her side.
Finally, some of the other hunters were starting to take notice. They turned around and gaped at me, looking from the two hunters I’d downed to me with confused expressions.
They were still staring as I sprinted to the next one. He was wide open—didn’t even have a hand on a weapon. I formed a V with the fingers and thumb of my right hand, stiffened my arm, then slammed my hand into the upper part of his neck.
He gagged and coughed, and I was able to push him over after applying a knee strike to the groin.
The thing about fighting is if you know where to hit, you don’t actually need a lot of force. And the throat? Super fragile.
That’s three…
I needed to get to Amos and take him down—before they called for backup. I locked eyes on him, and felt my hunter magic bubble as it kicked into high gear, giving me a hefty surge of adrenaline and intensifying my senses so I was more aware of all the hunters and their movements.
“Don’t just stand there, stop her!” Amos scoffed. He lost that attitude fast, however, as I closed in on him.
He back up so fast his netted hat fell off, but he couldn’t shuffle backward faster than I could run.
I grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him forward. Using my free fist like a hammer, I slammed it into the side of his head.
One of the hunters standing near the trap fitted a metal whistle to his lips and blew—which was almost certainly a signal for reinforcements.
I could sense another hunter coming up behind me, so I swung around—dragging Amos with me—and pushed him into the incoming hunter.
She stumbled as she tried to stabilize her groaning, swearing, staggering leader, occupying both of her hands.
I jabbed my fingers into her eyes.
She cried out as she tried to stagger away, blinded and half tripping on Amos.
I dug two of my fingers into her jugular notch—the dip between the collarbones—which made her throat tighten, and she started coughing and gagging as she hobbled away from me.
So far, this is a lot easier than I expected. These guys are wide open—and so slow!
I heard the trill of a blade sliding out of its scabbard.
I just had to think it, didn’t I?
I’d been avoiding using my own daggers and gun in hopes that it would keep them from resorting to weapons. Apparently, they felt my throat grabs were lethal enough to warrant it.
The hunters were finally starting to move, leaving the trap—and Amelia and the Jacks—as they closed in on me.
“Let go!” a hunter growled somewhere behind my back.
“No,” Radcliff grunted. “We shouldn’t be doing this!”
I turned just enough to see Scarlett and Radcliff were fighting two of the incoming hunters, keeping them off my back.
I also saw the reinforcements. All ten of the hunters that Amelia had counted in the lodge came swarming out the front doors and sprinting across the lawn.
A hunter jumped at me, brandishing a dagger with his arm extended and wide.
I smacked the inside of his forearm, redirecting the dagger away from me, then planted my palm just under his chin and pushed up, snapping his head upward.
A part of me couldn’t believe just how bad they were at this, until it dawned on me.
They’re hunters. They’re used to attacking from a distance as a group. They’ve never been pulverized in close range combat where they can only count on themselves. The Quillons got me a combat instructor just because I asked for one—it’s not typically taught.
Unfortunately, my luck was about to run out.
The hunter wildly windmilled his arms as he tried to catch his balance, and his blade bit into the side of my upper arm.
The Pack went wild in the trap.
Aeric threw himself at the netted, hissing surface, growling as the hackles of his fur stood up. Wyatt slammed his fists on its insubstantial surface, making it bulge, but it didn’t give.
Hissing in pain, I shoved the hunter to the ground and glanced at my arm.
The slice was about as long as my pinky finger, and was deep enough that it created a burning ache. The bigger problem was I was now bleeding, and I knew from experience that meant I had a limited amount of time before I got woozy.
Do I have time to try to wrap it?
The reinforcements reached me, swarming past Radcliff and Scarlett. One grabbed for me, and while I was able to dodge him, I nearly slammed into another hunter who was circling around to the front.
He tried to stab me in the eye with a hunting knife. I bent backward just in time—barely avoiding it—but the tiny blade nicked me on the cheekbone, opening a small cut that burned fiercely.
That’s a no.
“Take her down!” Amos yelled, having recovered enough to breathe.
I ripped my sheathed daggers off my belt and used one to block another knife jab, and rammed the pommel of the other dagger into the side of the hunter’s head.
He almost fell on top of me, and I backed up into another hunter, who tried to force me into a choke hold.
Scarlett ripped him off with a snarl, and Radcliff grabbed the wrist of another hunter who was raising a gun, chopped down on his elbow, and yanked the pistol from his grasp.
“You know.” I grabbed the now weaponless hunter by the collar of his shirt and kneed him in the groin, waiting until he bent over before I hit him in the back of the head with one of my sheathed daggers. “It’s pretty cool fighting with people,” I said.
“That isn’t normal for you?” Scarlett asked through gritted teeth. She was wrestling with a male hunter twice her size, and just as I took a step toward her to help, she slammed her head into his nose, making him stagger.
I planted my legs, then delivered a roundhouse kick to an incoming hunter, hitting her in the neck. “Not usually, no.”
Radcliff pistol whipped another hunter. “No wonder you’re so frightening.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I spun around, looking for Amos.
The wolves’ angry howls turned frantic, and I instinctively turned toward the trap.
Amos was tottering in its direction, ignoring the wolves—who frantically smashed against the trap, filling the air with the scent of singed fur.
He’s going to see the humans!
I secured one of my daggers to my belt, then sprinted after him, my fingers closing in on the collar of his shirt just as he rounded the bend of the hunter spell.
The trap briefly sputtered, then dimmed as Amelia and the Jacks finally dug out one of the trap’s anchors.