I allowed myself a small chuckle at that, as I tumbled into the room I’d torn my way into. I shot out into the hall, a streak of blond hair and white skin, cursing the meandering ways the passages were created. Still, now that I had bashed through the wall, it did not take me long to find him. The Warlocks’ Assassin hardly had time to lift his arm to protect himself before I was upon him.
I let out a vicious snarl, prepared to rip his head from his shoulders, when I froze in shock. Fortunately, he did too.
“Brother?” I asked, uncertainly, shocked at what he had become.Against my better judgment, I let him stand. He eyed me warily. “What have they done to you?” I nearly cried. My brother, an Assassin. A cursed, killing crazed, suicidal Assassin.
“What have they done to you?” He returned with a baleful glare, “What are you?”
I managed a weak chuckle, “I’m a Werezomfaevampagonymphinx.”
He raised his eyebrows, “That’s quite a title.”
But I could see him fighting the desire to kill me. Like he could.