Just as my sword swings against my father’s, Vanzuela Van Helsing crashes into the room, barely saving me from a brother attacking me from behind. “Never thought there’d come a day when I was fighting alongside Marta Portocale, let alone Damien and Amos Morpheous,” Zuela grunts through a mystifying amount of swordsmanship, making the shit look easy. “At least not in a real battle.”
