It belched a guttural growl, the walls quivered around Gunn, but he remained solid. “I summoned you to complete your part of the bargain.” Gunn had once learned at Argos that demons always responded to a direct summoning as they had no control to ignore the calling. Had to be some weird-ass Hell rule.
The edges of the funnel quivered, and, in a flash, a large object flew out, crashing into the fridge. A body slumped to the ground, and his gaze fixed on Cyra! God, thank you. The joy in his chest was short-lived, though, because they weren’t free yet.
“Get up,” Gunn yelled. “Leave, now!”
She moaned with obvious pain and pulled herself to her knees. Cuts and blood coated her.
A thunderous hiss belched from the portal, and he turned to the demon stepping out. He loathed the monster that treated humans like toys and didn’t give a shit about who it harmed. But this was showtime, and he wouldn’t back down. He threw himself toward the demon, weapons ready.
He tossed the lasso out, catching it on an arm, and yanked hard, because, for once, the fiend held solid form. That meant it had tapped into Cyra’s magic—how else would it be holding shape? He lifted his blade above his shoulder.
One second.
With a swift turn, the demon swung outward and a tentacle whacked Gunn in the face. He stumbled sideways as a sting lanced across his cheek and jawline.
Three seconds.
A metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. Bastard. Tripping over his own feet, he slammed into the wall. But he spun, heaving on the lasso still latched to the monster’s arm.
Four seconds. All he needed was six.
The chairs behind Gunn scraped across the tiles of their own accord, smacking into his thighs. He stumbled forward but dug his heels into the floor and used every ounce of strength to keep away from the beast’s tentacles.
Six seconds! Why wasn’t it vanishing?
Every muscle trembled. He charged and jumped upward at the last minute, slamming the knife into the bastard’s heart, if it had one. Both of them tumbled toward the portal.
Cyra’s scream echoed in the background. Gunn’s breath caught in his lungs. Why is she still here? She had to leave.
He shoved his fists into the monster’s torso, pivoting himself backward. And yet it stood there, unaffected, chuckling with the lasso dangling from an arm and the knife sticking out of its chest. What the hell was going on?
Something latched on to his ankle and knocked his legs out from under him. Thrown backward, he landed hard on his back, his head smashing against the floor. Stars peppered his vision.
A tentacle wriggled up his leg. He booted it while his head still danced.
But more tentacles slithered toward him, capturing him like starved piranhas. One latched on to his waist, inching up his body. His heart banged so hard that if there was ever a time he’d have a stroke, it was right then.
Cyra stumbled away from the fridge and to his side, clearly not listening to him about leaving. She kicked a tentacle, stomping on it, but it didn’t help. Nothing did.
Lifted off the floor, Gunn faced the monster at eye level; its laughter lifted the hairs on his arms. He writhed against his shackles, until he spotted his blade in the demon’s chest, just within reach. With a sharp inhale, he reached for the knife and wrenched it free. Without waiting, he plunged the blade into its throat, just above its ridiculous necklace with tiny balls attached to it.
The demon flinched backward, its grip loosening.
Gunn sprawled to the floor and, with a hand, pushed Cyra away. “Leave!” He staggered upward, gritting his teeth. Keep going. This ends now. He dashed around the portal and hopped up onto the counter before catapulting himself onto the monster.
But when it whirled to face him with a gaping mouth full of razor-sharp teeth, he panicked.
“Shit!”
Fingers made of daggers snapped forward and pierced his arms, catching him mid-fall. He grunted as blades cut into him.
In a sudden move, the beast tossed him across the room. He crashed into several chairs. They snapped and broke beneath him. A rush of intense wind collided against him, snaking around his legs like invisible hands.
Dragged away, he reached out for anything to grab, his fingers digging against the wooden floor. His thoughts flew to Cyra, who ran after him, grasping his hand.
“Gunn, fight.” Her teary words ripped his heart in half. He had to save her.
He bucked against the restraints and threw his body sideways, breaking his grasp on Cyra. He grabbed hold of a table leg. A strong tug on his ankles had him and the table flying across the floor, racing toward the opening.
An involuntary scream escaped his throat.
A depraved chuckle echoed around it. But everything happened too fast for him to make sense of an escape. Death was taking him, and on his next breath, half his body dipped into its gaping mouth. Heat burned him, and he slid deeper. But he jerked to a stop as the table jammed in the opening. A light trickle of candlelight glowed through a few small gaps at the portal’s entrance. Dangling in a black hole, he held on for dear life, grasping the table’s leg. Sweat drenched him.
Yet it was his life choices that haunted him. They’d prevented him from enjoying life and had made him push Cyra away. He’d believed he deserved to die, but now that he faced his end, regret convulsed him. For the past two years, he hadn’t been living, but waiting for death, when he should have enjoyed what time he’d had left. But he’d wasted every moment, and then there was Cyra, whom he’d left at the mercy of the demon.
“Son of a bitch.” He wasn’t giving up. His life sucked, and the universe owed him a second chance.
He tightened his hold and climbed higher, one hand over the other. This wasn’t the end
