The demons smiled slowly. “Looks like the witchy-poo has lost her powers.”
More shock pounded through her; she uttered the spell for the third time. Still, no results. Why? “I—I don’t understand.” Why wouldn’t her magic work? A side effect of the love potion? No, surely not, but Glory had told her to only drink half. The demons should be writhing balls of fire. Instead, they were chuckling and amused.
“Playtime is over,” a grating voice proclaimed. The demon snarled and flashed his dripping fangs. “Get her!”
“Genevieve!” Hunter shouted as a creature lunged for her. Hunter grabbed it by the forearms and tossed it to the ground. He kicked and hit the demon with expert precision. His arms arched through the air so quickly the movements were barely visible. He ducked and spun, leaped and struck with poetic menace.
Falon joined the fray, stabbing at the monkey wannabes with broken liquor bottles and wood shards.
With the men occupied, another demon dove for her, slamming her into a table and knocking every ounce of air from her lungs. Dizzy, she sank to the ground. The only people she’d ever fought were her sisters, yet they hadn’t wanted to actually kill her. Still, she knew the basics of self-defense and how to fight dirty.
Her opponent jumped astride her, pinning her where she lay. It licked its lips and tried to wrap its claws around her neck. She put her newly filed nails to use and poked it in the eyes. It howled, its attention on its pain, and she smashed her palm into its nose. In the next instant, Hunter kicked the demon away from her and grappled the hell spawn to the ground.
“Demons of the night,” she chanted, standing, arms high in the air, “you will die now, I don’t care how.”
The fight continued without interruption.
Damn it! She glared down at her hands. Why wasn’t her magic working? She felt the power of it inside her, as potent as ever, yet it refused to be released.
From the corner of her eye, she saw a demon’s razor-sharp claws lengthen and slash at Hunter’s chest. He didn’t move in time, and blood began to ooze from the gaping wound. She gasped. Screamed. Fury and fear bubbled inside her.
“Run, baby,” he panted, struggling to keep the creature from his throat.
“No, I won’t leave you.” Nearing panic, she grabbed a long, splintered wood shard and raced toward the battling pair just as Hunter punched the bastard in the face and rolled away. “Catch!” She tossed him the shard.
He caught it, and when the demon advanced, Hunter stabbed it dead center in the chest.
The creature burst into flames.
As the orange-gold flickers licked the walls and dissolved into ash, the tallest of the demons stopped tormenting a screaming gnome long enough to focus narrowed eyes on Hunter, who was pushing to his feet.
“You’ll pay for that, human.” Two other demons approached the leader’s side, each of them glaring with hostility. “Oh, you’ll pay.”
Genevieve grabbed a beer bottle, broke the end on the bar, and held the jagged amber glass in front of her. “You’ll have to fight me, as well,” she said bravely. At least, she hoped she sounded brave.
“With pleasure, little witch,” was the delighted reply.
“Damn it, Genevieve,” Hunter said. “When this is over I’m going to teach you to obey my orders.” He closed in on the demon, and a bleeding Falon closed into step at his side. Both men wore expressions of certain death— demon death.
Her heart drummed in her chest.
Distracted as she was, she didn’t notice as one of the demons sprinted to her. It reached her and knocked the glass from her hand before tossing her to the ground. Suddenly breathless, she lay still for a long while. Or perhaps she lay for mere seconds. Her attacker jumped on top of her and she fought like a wildcat, kicking and scratching. As it attempted to subdue her, its rancid breath fanned her face.
“Be still!” it hissed. Its forked tongue slithered from between thin lips.
She bit its arm, the taste of salt and ash filling her mouth.
“Bitch!”
“That’s
“Dead witch.” Its sharp, lethal fangs emerged, dripping with . . . what? Not saliva. This smelled bad. Worse than bad. Evil. Like death. It gripped her wrists and held them down, its head inching toward her. She knew it was moving quickly, about to sink its fangs into her neck, but her mind processed it in slow motion.
She pulled her knees to her chest and slammed her feet into the demon’s chest. Surprisingly, it flew backward and propelled across the bar. Gasping for air, trembling in fear, she jolted to a sitting position.
“You okay?” Hunter panted, at her side. He dropped to his knees. Sweat and blood dripped from his temples. His gaze roved over her body frantically, over her ripped dress, searching for injury.
“I’m fine. But you—”
“Look out!” Falon shouted.
Hunter whipped around; Genevieve gazed, horrified, past his shoulder. The demon she’d kicked was flying at her, hate in its eyes, a long shard of glass in its outstretched hand, mere seconds away from reaching her. Instinctively, she dove to the side. Anticipating such a move, the demon moved with her. Hunter, damn him, sprang in front of her, taking the blow himself.
“Hunter!” she screamed.
Eyes wide, he looked down at his chest.
“Got him.” Laughing, the demon and the rest of his cohorts raced away. Some jumped through windows, the sound of tinkling glass echoing from the walls. Others rushed out the same way they’d entered. Hinges squeaked as the front doors burst into shattered pieces.
Genevieve’s mind registered only one thing. “You’re hurt. Hunter, you’re hurt.” Still on her knees, she scrambled in front of him. Blood dripped from his chest, the glass embedded so deeply she could only see the tip.
“I’ll be fine.” Weakness and pain tinged his voice. “Did they hurt you? Are you cut anywhere?”
“I’m okay, damn you. I’m okay.” He looked so pale, causing her panic to intensify. Not even when she’d first spied the demons inside the bar had she felt this much fear. “You should have let him stab me.” Her chin trembled. “You should have let him stab me.”
“I’m glad you’re well.” His eyelids drifted shut for a long moment. “I’d have to become a ghost and do the revenge thing if they’d harmed you.”
“I need to pull out the glass and bandage your wounds, okay? I need to—”
“It’s too late. Demon saliva . . . is poison, and one of them managed to bite me. Genevieve,” Hunter said, his voice so raspy she had trouble hearing him. “I want you . . . to know, you were totally . . . worth it.”
Her arms anchored around him, her head burrowing against his chest. His heartbeat thumped weakly, sporadically. “Hunter, listen to me. You’re going to be okay. Let’s get you to my sister. She’s a healer.” She gazed at the bar, wild and desperate. “Someone call Godiva. Call her right now.”
“I’ll do it,” Falon said.
“My head is spinning.” Hunter’s forehead bobbed forward. “Help me lie down, sweetheart.”
His full weight fell into her. She absorbed it as best she could, locking one hand at the base of his neck and the other at his lower back. Leaning forward, she slowly and as gently as possible lowered him. Seconds dragged by. By the time he lay completely prone, her arms burned and shook with exertion.
“I wish I could have had more time with you,” he said. He didn’t open his eyes. “That’s my only regret.”
“Stop. Don’t talk like that. You’re going to be fine.” Her chin trembled all the harder; her blood ran cold. She tore the shirt from his chest and studied the rest of his wounds. What she saw made her mouth dry up. Long, jagged scratches ran like bloody rivers over his ribs. Several teeth marks adorned his neck, the skin already black. Already dead.
She covered her mouth with her hand to cut off her horrified cry. “I love you, and I need you. Tell me you’re going to be okay.”
His lips lifted in a weak smile. “I wish . . . I wish . . .” As his voice tapered to quiet, his head drifted to the side.
