Master of the Abyss

“Don’t speak to me, demon!” Andrew shook his head, and rather than letting go, he wrapped his hand in Virgil’s sandy hair, ensuring the knife would stay put. “I have your claw. I can kill your servant.”

Kallie’s heart missed a beat. I made it worse.

Andrew watched a river of black spill from the black-haired female, filling the clearing. He must kill her and get away before the poison entered his veins, penetrated his mind. When she died, her blood would sink into the earth, taking the evil with it-scorching the ground horribly, but the forest would eventually heal, unlike his brother, whom she’d ruined.

He must destroy her. He judged the distance. She could move fast; he’d seen that. She might run into the forest and escape him.

His leg burned like fire. The demon’s claw had ripped through his flesh, and he knew, knew at this point, he had nothing to live for. The mark she’d put on him would slowly take over his skin, his muscles, even his bones, blackening his body like a burned corpse even while he lived, and then would steal his bright soul with it. Tears spilled from his eyes. Destroy her.

“Come closer,” he gritted out.

She shook her head. “Come and get me. Leave him, and come for the one you wanted.”

Kill him first.

“No!”

The man’s shout rang through night, and Andrew jerked…realized he’d spoken aloud. The darkness had lured his mind into confusion. Time was running short.

Logan stepped farther into the clearing. “Put the knife down, Andrew, and you can go. If you hurt him, I’ll rip you to pieces.”

If he died now, with her foulness inside him, he would descend to the depths, screaming in agony, his mission unfinished. The stench of her filled his nostrils until he gagged. No hope, no-he pressed and watched the claw cut into her minion’s throat. A trickle of blood, black as her heart, ran down to burn its way into the innocent earth.

She made a sound, and he looked up, hope scrabbling to the surface of his mind. Tears streamed from her dark eyes, and he knew he had the key. If she died first, her evil would wash out of his body. He could still die, but his soul would escape the black abyss of hell.

She took a step closer. No. A demon might care for her slave, but not enough, never enough. “You’re trying to trick me.” His words slurred, his tongue stumbling. The blackness surged through him in waves.

“No trick. I’m right here,” she said. He blinked, bringing her back into focus. She’d moved closer, clawed hands in front of her. Empty. Pleading-with him.

“No, Kallie!” her other servant shouted.

Chapter Thirteen

“Oh please,” Kallie whispered, to Andrew, to God, to whoever might help. She could barely see through the tears in her eyes but couldn’t miss the widening red spilling down Virgil’s neck. If the monster pressed harder, he’d hit the artery and…

He muttered something about demons and slaves. A sacrifice.

But he wanted her, not Virgil. “Andrew, take me.”

Andrew’s head jerked up. He stared around him, horror filling his face as if he saw something other than the clearing. His gaze finally came to her. “Demon, don’t speak to me. Demons don’t die. Cling to life.”

“I don’t.” She took a step closer. “There’s nothing for me here. No one. You can kill me, and they’ll be sad for a minute and then move on.”

“Your lover won’t.” His fist clenched, and the knife moved an infinitesimal amount.

Her heart hammered frantically. “He left me.” Andrew’s muscles slackened as Kallie edged closer. “He won’t care-I wasn’t who he wanted.” The hurt of that must have entered her voice, for the knife moved, a half inch…an inch…from Virgil’s throat. “I don’t belong anywhere.” Just two steps out of Andrew’s reach, she dropped to her knees.

“Dammit, Kallie,” Logan shouted, panic in his voice. She glanced at him. Too far away to help her, but when the monster attacked, Logan could save Virgil. Fair trade, her mind and heart said, though her hands shook, everything inside her shook, every nerve screamed, Run!

Doubt showed in Andrew’s face. He glanced at Virgil, then at her.

Almost, almost. Bowing her head was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

She saw the knife drop into the dirt, and jerked her eyes up as, in one move, he grabbed the club. As the weapon swung up, Kallie lifted her arms to cover her head, even knowing her bones would break like dry twigs.

Something hit Andrew from the side, knocking him away. She felt the wind, the swish as the heavy branch whipped past her face. The shock-she was still braced for pain-stunned her. I’m alive?

She stared at the struggling men and panicked. Nooo, not Jake. Her Jake against that monster? She scrambled to her feet, snatched up the knife, and-Logan grabbed her, dragging her across the clearing and away from the fighting. He locked his arm around her when she tried to get free.

“Let me go!” She fought him, yelled at him. Logan’s hold didn’t loosen.

She saw the club come up and swing down brutally, and she moaned, cringing in anticipation of seeing-Jake dodged, but the weapon hit his shoulder in a glancing blow. Jake stumbled back, and Andrew swung, and again Jake dodged. He stepped in quickly and punched Andrew hard in the face.

Andrew staggered and recovered too quickly, forcing Jake to evade the backswing.

“Fuck, Jake’s screwed. Secrist is madman strong.” Logan charged across the clearing as Andrew swung again.

“No no no.” Kallie threw her knife.

It hit Andrew in the back, too small to do any good, but Andrew screamed as if it had impaled him. His arms spread wide.

Jake stepped in and kicked, his boot hitting the monster’s bloody leg. Andrew shrieked and stumbled forward.

Jake ripped the heavy branch away. Holding it in two hands, he spun around like a discus thrower. One turn and then the club smashed into the monster’s head with a crunching sound that Kallie would never, ever forget.

Andrew catapulted back with the complete flaccidness of the dead, even before he hit the ground.

Chest heaving, Jake stood over him. Logan stepped beside him and set his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Kallie stared at Jake. Alive. Blood streaked his face, gleaming wet and dark in the silvered light. His shirt gaped open from a long rip across the shoulder. When he moved, he limped. But he was all right. Thank you, thank you, God.

After one last reassuring look, she dropped to her knees beside Virgil. Relief flooded through her as he groaned and struggled to a sitting position. He held one hand across his ribs. “What the hell did he hit me with?”