One kicked for my knee, and by some miracle, I saw it coming out of the corner of my good eye. My block was sloppy, but the blow glanced off anyway. My bicep rejoiced at the split-second of relaxation, then burned as I forced my arm back up. Cramps locked up my right shoulder just as an inhuman fist shot toward my face. I couldn’t block in time, so I ducked and took it on the top of the head.
I must’ve blacked out. When I came back around, I was on one knee. It felt like someone was taking swings at my ribs with a lead pipe. Bones cracked. Air whistled in my chest. I lunged for my feet, but I couldn’t stand. Hands grabbed me by the head and jerked downward. My nose crunched against a knee. Then I was on the ground.
I wasn’t going to make it.
Maybe that should’ve been obvious way before that very second, but I’d thought if I tried…if God had let me come down here…
I rolled onto my stomach. Stretched one arm out as far as I could manage in the direction of the wailing, then the other. I couldn’t force my fingers to uncurl, but I pushed with my feet and scraped with my forearms and fists. Probably gained less than an inch.
Shit. I really wasn’t going to make it.
Tiffani was going to spend the rest of eternity in Hell because I failed. Unending death. Pain and torture that went on and on forever. She had saved me, gone through hell for me, and after all that, I was going to fail her.
I opened my mouth, but all that came out was a spray of blood bubbles and spit. My lungs weren’t working right. I couldn’t even catch enough breath to say her name.
The muscle in my shoulder spasmed and my arm shot out again. My wrist rested on the lip of something metal set into the floor. Bars.
The screaming was louder than ever now. I hooked my clawed fingers around one of the bars and pulled myself closer. There was just enough heavenly glow left in my skin to illuminate a latch.
No lock. Not even a pin.
The beating had stopped. I pushed with one arm until I rolled onto my side, then looked up.
The Gatekeepers were all standing back from the grate, watching.
“The Pit,” their leader said. “You believe pain and struggle have meaning for you now, but therein lies true Hell.”
Either it was all the blows to the head I’d taken or the reality of what I was about to do that made it seem as if the leader’s inhuman face was showing something almost like concern, as if he was trying to change my mind for my own good.
I blinked to clear my vision, but the leader’s expression stayed the same.
Tiffani. Getting to Tiffani was all that mattered.
I let myself drop back onto my stomach and fumbled with the latch. Finally, it tripped. I fell into the Pit.
Tough
When I opened my eyes again, I was flat on my back staring at the gray points of nails coming in through Lonely’s roof. Teeth ripped at my throat and I heard growling. I swung my fist. Fur-covered ribs snapped against my knuckles, but the teeth didn’t loosen up.
“Stop!” Scout’s ear-piercing whistle cracked through the attic again. “Stop it! Let go of him, Clarion. And stop struggling, Tough.”
The coyote crushing my windpipe unlocked his jaw, let go of my neck, and shifted back into human form so he could grab my throat.
Clarion growled, reddish-brown vamp venom smeared across his mouth and in his teeth. He turned his head and spit a wad of it on the floor.
The vamp reaction was to hiss at him. Or maybe it was my reaction. Somebody inside me had had it up to here with this asshole. Clarion didn’t know. Scout didn’t know. She didn’t fucking understand what she was asking. How many vamps could I make in one day? How many souls could I drag down to Hell with me?
“It’s the plan to make new crowspawn,” Lonely said.
“What about it?” Scout asked.
What do you think? I threw my hands up at her and the coyote’s grip on my throat tightened.
“The tarnished one’s not a fan,” Lonely said, smirking.
Clarion’s eye went from Lonely to me. His grip on my throat eased up.
“Then we’re on the same page. I was going to object to that method, too.” He stood up and held out his hand to help me up. “But you still need to get some control over yourself. You can’t attack everybody you disagree with.”
I reached for Clarion’s hand, then pulled up short at the last second and gave him the finger.
“Mature.” He rolled his eye. “Whatever. I still agree with Tough. This isn’t a war you can win by being faster or stronger or harder to kill. And you definitely can’t win it by willingly turning your own people over to their side. Holy wars aren’t won by numbers or strength; they’re won by faith.”
That almost made me laugh. I’d been in a holy war not that long ago and it damn sure seemed like the legion of unkillable badasses who outnumbered us ten to one got that win. Oh yeah, and my dad, the epitome of faith, got his head cut off by Kathan. So screw that theory.
But I still couldn’t do it. Even if we lost, even if every single human in this fight died screaming, I couldn’t
