I watch, awed by their power and ability. It’s clear from our time in Purgatory together that there’s no love lost between these two, and yet, they work so seamlessly together that I might as well be watching some choreographed dance between lovers who have spent a lifetime together.
My attention is forced away when I’m jostled in the net. I refocus back on my predicament, like I’m now looking at it through a new lens. I’m one half of each of those lethal beings. I’m one half Legion of Heaven, and one half Nihil of Hell. I’ve been punching demon bitches when I should’ve been figuring out how to crush their fucking souls.
I mean, if that’s even a thing.
Either way, I’ve gotta have some kind of ability other than scythe-wielding in my genetic repertoire...right?
If I do, now’s the time to figure it the fuck out.
22
I focus on the giant demon whose kick rocked my world, while I still try to breathe through the throbbing, sharp wound emanating from the limp wing at my back.
Cyclops holds the net and me tightly in its hands, its eye focused on the mausoleum. I can tell that someone is working to slow the demon carrying me, but I can’t focus on who or how, because instead, I’m focusing on the giant’s head and mentally taking a pickaxe to it. That doesn’t seem to be doing anything though, so I regroup, take a deep breath, and invoke all my energy, willing the dormant power that I hope I have inside of me to come rushing out.
The scythe is still gripped tightly in my hand, but unless I have a demon around to swipe the blade through, it can’t help me. I’m getting closer and closer to the mausoleum, and crippling desolation is crawling up my throat, but I shove it aside and instead embrace my rage. For once, I don’t try to dispel it. I don’t take a calming breath. I welcome it.
I let all the violent fury fill me up, thinking of everything I want to do to these demons attacking us. I call on everything I have inside of me, letting the inky black rage cloud my vision and get me into the zone. I want this giant to hurt like I’m hurt. I want to end it. I want to Jedi mind fuck this bitch into oblivion. I want to…
The massive, one-eyed giant carrying me suddenly freezes. Throwing its head back in a silent scream, black light shoots right out of the giant’s mouth. It blinks, and suddenly the dark light is beaming out of its eye too. The giant’s whole body looks oddly phosphorescent, and then out of nowhere, its skin starts to crack. More inky light bleeds through the splits, and then all at once, the giant explodes, and I go hurtling to the ground.
I land on a headstone with an oomph and roll off, charred demon bits raining down all around me.
Holy shit! Did I do that?
I try to think through the fog of pain wrapping around my mind, but a blinding light-covered sword stabs through the netting still encasing me, and I’m pulled out by Nefta. She’s covered in ash and blood just like me, but she has a massive smile on her face, looking radiant and gorgeous as fuck.
“Well done, Delta,” she tells me proudly, taking me in with a satisfied nod of her head. Her gold armor gleams in the moonlight, despite the gore and grime covering her. “Shall we give them a show?” she asks, scanning our surroundings, her eyes glimmering with excitement.
I follow her stare and see Inner Ring demons silently surrounding us, like they’re either moving into position or getting good seats for a show. When they’ve all circled around us, they suddenly part, making way for someone. It takes a moment for dark dreads, olive-toned skin, full lips, and mud-colored wings to stride into view.
The Ophidian’s eyes glow like a cat’s do when light hits them just right. As he moves closer, I realize two things, his eyes are completely white—with the exception of a vertical black slit in the middle for a pupil—and his hair isn’t made up of dreads like I thought they were. They’re long black snakes attached to his head.
Did Medusa have a hot little brother that the myths forgot to mention or something? Because, damn!
Shit!
I look away, suddenly remembering that you’re not supposed to look at Medusa or else you risk turning to stone, but when I spot Nefta’s purple eyes still affixed on the other demon, I realize that’s a stupid thought. I look around in an effort to cover up the panicked eye drop I just did, attempting to adopt the same indomitable mien as Nefta. It’s harder to do with the grimace affixed to my face, but I’m in too much pain to make it completely drop away.
“I should have fucking known it’d be you, Morax,” Nefta declares calmly as the Ophidian moves cautiously closer and the demons all around us close us off.
I scan all around, looking for the guys or Tazreel, but I don’t see anything beyond the Ophidian and the wall of demons watching and waiting. I sweep my eyes over the demon that’s been calling for my capture, trying to figure out what the fuck his deal is.
His black snake hair moves slowly around him, like the serpents are coiling together in preparation of a strike. The yellow eyes of the snakes seem to be watching his surroundings as though they’re watching the Ophidian’s back.
“It’s been a long time, Nefta. You look well,” the Ophidian, aka Morax, comments, and I’m surprised when his voice isn’t a hiss but something more in the realm of James Earl Jones. I fight back the urge to ask him to say, “Luke, I am your Father,” and try to get my fucked up head in the game.
Maybe I have a concussion?
I take a deep breath and focus my
