For a moment, everyone remained frozen in place, shocked by his harsh, brutal command.
“Attack!” Victor roared again. “Kill them all! Every last person who stands against me!”
At his continued urging, the Draconi guards yelled, snapped up their weapons, and charged forward into the crowd of people. None of them tried to turn their black blades on themselves, though. They’d already seen what a deadly disaster that had turned out to be for one of their own.
The Draconi guard who’d been watching me whipped around and raised his sword high, intending to bring it down on top of my head. But I was quicker than he was and I stepped up and punched him in the throat, making him gasp for air and stagger back. His weapon slid from his grasp and tumbled to the floor, and I darted forward and snatched it up before he could grab it again.
The cold burn of magic flooded my veins the second I touched the sword.
So this guard had a real black blade, although I had no idea what kind of magic it might contain. Strength from a copper crusher, most likely, or perhaps speed from a tree troll. But I wasn’t about to stab myself with the sword to find out. I wasn’t that desperate—yet.
Besides, just holding the weapon was enough to get my own transference power to kick in, and I felt myself growing stronger and stronger the longer I held the sword, almost as if the mere touch of my hand on the black blade was enough to pull the magic stored inside the bloodiron into my own body. Maybe it was, with my transference Talent.
But I didn’t have time to figure it out. In an instant, the tense quiet of the restaurant exploded into one loud, enormous fight. Tables and chairs flipped over, platters of food crashed to the floor, and glasses shattered as people dropped their drinks and stampeded every which way, trying to escape the Draconi guards and their slashing swords. Screams, shouts, and shrieks filled the air, along with blood.
So much blood.
Even though most of their weapons weren’t real black blades, the Draconi guards still had swords and daggers, and they pressed their advantage, cutting into every single person they could reach. Two of them realized that I’d disarmed one of their friends, and they engaged me, swinging their swords back and forth.
Left, right, left, left, right.
Thanks to the extra strength running through my veins, I parried their blows with ease, crashing my sword into theirs time and time again, then whipped around and unleashed my own attacks on them.
Right, left, right, right, left.
I cut one guard across the stomach, making him scream and stagger back, then whirled around and drove my sword through the chest of the second man. He collapsed when I pulled the weapon free from his body.
I turned around, looking for the next guard to battle. The Draconis had most people pinned up against the booths and walls, but there were a few folks who were fighting back, even though they had nothing to defend themselves with but their bare hands.
Like Devon.
He ducked one guard’s sword, stepped up, and plowed his fist into another man’s face, breaking his nose. That second guard yelped in pain, and Devon smoothly plucked the man’s sword out of his hand before whipping around and slicing it across the man’s stomach. That guard dropped to the floor screaming, and Devon whirled around, searching the restaurant.
His green eyes locked with mine, and his sharp worry flooded my chest, along with his rock-hard strength and determination to get me and the rest of the Sinclairs out of here. When he realized that I was okay and that I had a weapon, some of his worry eased, and his head swiveled around, searching for the rest of our friends.
His gaze moved on to Claudia, who was hunkered down behind a table, hurling glasses at the Draconis that were creeping up on her. Angelo was flanking her, also throwing glasses, while Mo and Reginald had grabbed the chairs from the table and were holding them out in front of them like makeshift shields, trying to keep the Draconis and their swords at bay.
Devon hesitated, torn between helping me and his mom, but he was closer to Claudia and the others than I was. Besides, I could take care of myself, and Claudia was the head of the Sinclairs. Devon needed to get her to safety—now.
“Go!” I yelled, waving at him. “Get Claudia!”