“Stop.”
Dinah’s loud command stopped everyone dead. Diel moved his mouth to Noa’s ear. “You can’t beat me, baby.” The challenge of the words, that term of endearment, burned inside of Noa, as hot as a the surface of the sun. Diel freed her from the ground and she jumped to her feet. The Fallen were backing away, triumphant grins on their faces.
Uriel crossed his muscular arms over his chest, seemingly bored by the too-easy exercise. Bara’s wide, mocking grin was as bright as his hair. Raphael’s eyes blazed; Sela’s were narrowed in suspicion. Michael stayed indifferent, only a bead of sweat on his forehead any indication that he had fought at all. Gabriel was frowning, catching his breath with his hands on his trim hips. Anyone could see that the priestly leader abhorred violence of any kind, but Noa also saw that his hatred of the fighting was overridden by the confusion clouding his face.
Noa moved beside Dinah, and Dinah winked at her sisters as they fell into formation behind her. Gabriel frowned in suspicion. Diel couldn’t keep still, rocking back and forth on his feet as he watched the Coven create a cluster.
Dinah flicked her chin at the Fallen. “Again.”
The men needed no indication from Gabriel this time. They charged forward, seven fighters with individual agendas. The Coven held form. They didn’t move, the years of training instinctively slipping into effect. Bara hit them first. Dinah spun out of his way and swept Uriel’s feet from beneath him as he followed his best friend. Noa took Bara down with a fist to his stomach. As Bara hit the ground, Candace kicked him until his breath became a high-pitched wheeze.
Dinah slid from Uriel to take on Raphael. Noa swerved, trusting without ever looking back that Jo would be there, taking the large blond on. Noa stayed close to Dinah; Dinah knocked the wind from Michael with an elbow to his chest, then spun to face Gabriel. Michael stumbled into Beth’s path, fangs bared, and the timid brunette swiped his legs and landed a punch to his muscled stomach, nothing meek in the way she fought the pseudo-vampire. Naomi lashed and kicked and kept Uriel and Bara on the ground, thoroughly incapacitated.
Then Diel stormed at Noa. He grabbed her shoulders, as if to tumble her to the ground, but Noa sliced her arms up, releasing herself from his grip. Jo and Candace appeared at her side and slammed Diel to the ground, knocking the wind from him enough that he had to fight for breath to even stand. The minute he did, Naomi landed a kick to his back, and Diel hit the ground beside Sela.
Noa turned around, and her sisters slotted back into formation. Dinah stood in front of them, the head of their targeted arrow. Gabriel was spread on the ground too, wonder and awe in his eyes. The rest of the Fallen were livid as they dragged themselves to their feet with fury in their killer stares.
“Fuck your weapons,” Dinah said, from the front of the Coven’s cluster. “We saw the Brethren train endlessly when we were imprisoned. We saw how they fought from the small, barred window in our dorm that gave us a view of their training field.” Noa felt the memories of those days stir inside of her. The sight of Auguste training his Witch Finders with military precision. Dinah and her sisters had initially watched them as a way to pass the time, then in more and more detail as the Coven grew older. They studied their every move. Priscilla, Noa and Dinah wanted to know how they moved … they wanted to know how they could be defeated.
That knowledge had saved them.
It had freed them.
“They find modern weaponry sinful, unjust … cowardly.” Dinah leveled a pointed stare at Bara. “They fight with fists and knives, and shun guns of any kind. They believe God will protect them, His chosen people.” The Fallen were on their feet now. Each of them hung off every word that Dinah said. “If we go into their nest, if we attempt to take them down, if they manage to rob us of our weapons we must be able to fight them with the same strength and efficiency that they will unleash on us.”
Dinah walked right up to Bara. “Your flame thrower won’t save you against them.” She moved to Uriel. “You are stronger than us, bigger physically than us, and you can defeat us one on one. But”—she stopped before Sela—“the Brethren don’t fight as individuals. They are one.” She stopped before Raphael, then Michael, and lastly she halted in front of Gabriel.
“We are few, but if we can merge into one unstoppable unit, always knowing, trusting that someone has your back behind you, we can maybe, maybe, defeat them in small numbers. Chip away at them, one surprise attack at a time.” Dinah took her place again with her sisters. “Those bastards hurt us. Abused us. Tortured us. Did unspeakable things to all of us in this room.” Noa felt the hatred for the Brethren pulsing from the Fallen just as much as it pulsed off the Coven.