Death is My BFFLAD Rewritten (Book 2 of the Rewritten Death Chronicles)

Chapter 47: Violent Caress

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Death's wings stroked the night in violent caresses as he lowered from the sky. He levitated above Malphas in the sigil. In the background, the mortal blood-filled fountain spilled over tremendously. Blood flowed in rivulets down the white stone, flooded the ground further with Dunkin's mess. Red crept over the grass, pooling over the sigil imprisoning Malphas, until it drowned the intricate lines.

Malphas chanted in low, velvety tongue. The muscles in his arms tautened. His eyes lifted, his head tilting skyward toward his Death. The sigil ignited against Malphas' fingertips, burning his skin, but he showed no signs of pain as he ripped through the barriers of the sigils like it was nothing. Ravens launched from their branches at once, soaring above us before spiraling around him like a twister, throaty cries reverberating off each other like starving vultures.

Shadows hissed from all directions, strobing in and out between shapes of creatures and formless tendrils. They crawled against the ground on all fours, approaching the vampires like fast slinking predators. One of the vampires dared to attack a shadow, and the darkness latched onto him like a parasite. It plunged down his open mouth, down his throat, and the vampire went down fast with a gurgled, painful scream, as if his insides were being shredded apart in a blender. The vampire's body jolted, and skin suctioned to bone as the blackness shadow ripped the life straight out of him. Blackness thrust out his eyeballs, his ears, gore splattering the surrounding men.

The shadow finished as a horde of well, zombies, and skeleton-like animated creatures lurched into the clearing of the graveyard with auras of pulsing black power.

"Hell yeah!" Wolf roared, holding a decapitated vampire head in his hand. "It's about to get Z-War up in here, bitches!"

The vampires sprang back in shock, knocking into each other to get away from the other shadows and undead corpses slunk closer too. The stench of rot smothered any other scent as the zombies opened their decayed jaws with horrifying howls and attacked the vampires in swarms. The shadows and corpses glided where they were needed to imprison and debilitate the vampires, enough so that the Reapers and Death's Fallen were able to finish off the job and decapitate them.

Holy shit.

Locked in place and overawed by the sheer madness transpiring around me at a rapid pace, I gazed at the paling faces of Dunkin's vampires. They didn't stand a chance in this battle. And, I feared, looking back up at the cruel expression on Death's grisly full form face, neither would he.

"Party time, boys!" Denim said, cocking his machine gun.

"Yee-haw, motherfuckers!" Flash shouted.

Blade unleashed steel from his belt.

Death slashed his hand through the air and the fountain of blood exploded, thick crimson liquid spraying out from the top. The newborns, splattered by the liquid which fueled their very being, uncontrollably lurched themselves at the fountain to lap at the blood with their tongues. A trap, as Death's Fallen and Reapers slaughtered the bunch of them.

Suddenly, a hand clamped down on my arm and my mouth. Before I could even react, the world blurred. Then I was being dragged back into the dark, underneath the shadows of trees and shrubbery.

Crashing back to earth, I writhed against my captor, the slippery material of my shirt aiding in a miracle as I wrenched free and rolled across the dirt. A foot kicked me in hard the stomach, knocking the wind out of me as I wheezed. The padding between my shirt and my abdomen must have absorbed some of the impact, because I was certain that kick alone could have done me in.