My eyes widen on the spot where my blade pierces his flesh. I expect him to turn to ash, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even flinch or gasp in pain. Confused and panicked, I pull the end out of him and step back, flipping the scythe again so I can get him with the curved blade now that there’s space between us and room for me to use the other end.
He blocks the second strike like he’s swatting away an annoying bug. Black blood pools onto the fabric of his shirt, but instead of acknowledging it in any way, he reaches down and adjusts himself. I quickly look away from the bulge in his pants.
“You’re stronger than I thought,” he tells me with a lascivious grin, need glimmering in his unusual eyes.
Unease churns inside of me as alarm bells sing in my head. I can feel all the wrongness that’s wrapped around him like a cloak. I don’t know who this dude is or what exactly his power is that he used on me, but fucked up doesn’t even begin to cover it.
“I’m going to have the best time playing with you.”
That creepy smile on his face goes hand in hand with my need to vomit. I feel rattled and violated, and all he’s doing is looking at me. All at once, his snake hair looks at me, and they start writhing around in some kind of weird ass hypnotic dance.
“It’s time to go now, little one. Take my hand.” He reaches out, palm up, and once again, I’m completely discombobulated.
It’s time to go.
Frowning, I reach for him, but before I can close the distance between us and slip my palm into his, a winged being slams down between us, and a cloud of dirt and grass goes flying out all around us from the impact.
“That is my daughter you are fucking with, Snake Charmer,” Tazreel growls, his blond wings held out proudly on either side of him.
Taz’s voice yanks me from the confounding venom Morax keeps slipping into my head. How the fuck is he doing that?
“Why, Pride, it’s lovely to finally meet you. Any friend of Lucifer’s is an enemy of mine,” he jokes.
Tazreel and Morax go at it.
They clash together like two ocean waves battling for control over the sea. I feel their impact through the ground. They hit hard, and this time, no one is laughing.
I look over to find Nefta practically standing on a hill of bodies as she continues to fight relentlessly against the demons who surrounded us. I abandon my spectator status of Tazreel and Morax’s showdown. I want to get as far from the Ophidian as possible. He scrambles my brain, and I feel like I can’t trust myself with him.
I scan for my demons. I haven’t seen them since I was drop-kicked earlier. I was supposed to look out for them, and instead, I got myself netted and just almost left willingly with the enemy. I need to find Jerif. Maybe I can convince him to punch me in the face to knock some sense in me, or at least tell me what the fuck my problem is.
Out of nowhere, something wraps around my waist, and I’m yanked to the left, like one of those old time acts who get hooked off the stage if they’re bad. Before I can so much as scream, I slam into Echo’s chest and his arms wrap around me.
His hold makes me cry out, and he immediately drops his arms. “Shit, are you okay? Where are you hurt?” he asks me, his shadows running over my body like they’re checking for injuries.
My teeth are clenched as I try not to hurl, and I suck in a breath to try to mentally separate myself from the pain. “My wing,” I manage to say, and Echo moves to look, hissing out an exhale when he sees. “Shit, Delta. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have hugged you until I checked…”
“It’s okay,” I assure him as I reach down and squeeze his hand.
“Maverick, Echo, over here!” Iceman yells, and our heads snap to the right to find him twenty feet away, shattering frozen demons where they stand. Echo and I head over, trampling over dead bodies in an effort to get to him. There are so many eviscerated, broken pieces of deceased demons everywhere that I start ashing bodies just to make it easier to navigate the battlefield that was once a tranquil graveyard.
A flash of flame shoots in a straight path toward Iceman, and I see Jerif making his way over too, making another surge of relief hit my soul. Neither of them look injured, but they do look exhausted. I search around us for Crux, apprehension bubbling in my stomach.
Not again, not again, I keep chanting to myself, trying to push thoughts of the Vestibule away. He’s okay. He has to be. If the others are on their feet, he is too somewhere. I won’t let myself think otherwise.
Getting to Iceman is slow going. I feel like I’m wading through molasses while also fighting off stray demons here and there, but every swing of my scythe sends another lightning strike of agony down my wing. I can tell Echo tries to take down every attacker so that I don’t injure myself more, but his power is exhausted. All he has left are a few semi-transparent wisps to work with and the ice sword in his hand looks about a foot shorter than it used to be.
Eventually, we make it to Iceman. “Broken wing,” I blurt before quickly smashing my face against his chest and curling my arms around him. He barely stops himself in time from wrapping his arms around me and touching my wing. I have to force myself to pull away because the fight’s not over yet, and I can’t let myself shut down or bask in his hold.
As soon as Iceman’s eyes land on the break in my wing that I probably don’t want to
