The wind picked up again, whipping at my hair. A spider web of lightning flashed across the sky, followed instantly by a deafening crack of thunder. Myrial’s human body exploded in a blur of motion, wings unfurling and spiral antelope horns sprouting from her temples in the space between one heartbeat and the next. A strange weapon like a staff with a sickle-shaped blade mounted on one end materialized in her hand, the wicked metal edge crackling with blue electricity.
She sprang, and Nigellus shifted to match her demonic form, his larger frame towering over her lithe, androgynous body. His tailored shirt tore under the power of his massive wings breaking free, and his horns curled around his skull like a ram’s. He lifted a hand, and a goddamned flaming broadsword appeared in it, just in time to block the first slash of Myrial’s glowing scythe.
“Holy. Fucking. Shit,” I murmured faintly, nearly stumbling over my own feet as Rans continued to pull me backward.
Above us, thunder rolled, rattling the inside of my chest with its force. The heavens opened, rain pouring down as the two figures clashed in a crackle of otherworldly power.
EIGHTEEN
I BLINKED RAPIDLY against the water droplets pelting my face, my bare skin prickling with gooseflesh as the downpour soaked me in seconds. Distantly, I was aware that I was still naked from the waist up. My shirt lay in a sodden pile somewhere nearby—too close to the whirling figures to even consider trying to make a grab for it.
Rans’ fingers were clasped too tightly around mine. I could feel the tension with which he was holding himself, poised for quick action if Nigellus couldn’t stand against Myrial’s challenge. Quick action to do what, though, I wasn’t entirely sure.
He was sheltering the dagger as best he could against his body, and I cursed inwardly as I realized one particular weakness of the weapon that I hadn’t previously considered. Much of the salt was encased within the epoxy, but the crystals also peppered the blade’s exterior.
And salt dissolved in water.
True, the thing wasn’t just going to melt away to nothing—but neither was the downpour going to do it any favors. I strained to see what was happening through the veil of rain. The only way to follow the fight was by the light flaring from the demons’ otherworldly weapons. The flames surrounding Nigellus’ sword sizzled as the rain hit it, but unlike my homemade dagger, there was no indication that the dousing was having any other effect on it.
The fiery weapon whirled and thrust, met at every turn by the crescent-shaped blade of Myrial’s battle scythe. Wings beat the air. Gradually, the heavy downpour at the front edge of the storm subsided enough that I could see through it properly. Nigellus was fighting with brute strength, while Myrial relied on blinding speed as she relentlessly parried her opponent’s attacks while searching for an opening with her own.
Rans remained taut beside me, ready to move in any direction. “Not good,” he muttered. “Her plan to weaken him had some merit, it seems. He’s moving far too slowly.”
I couldn’t even imagine what that kind of strength, with the addition of Myrial’s quickness, would look like. Of course, I supposed that would explain why Nigellus was ranked as one of the most powerful demons in Hell. None of that helped us now, though.
“There aren’t any weird rules about interfering with demon duels, are there?” I asked. “Like, if you interfere, you’re not automatically sentenced to death or something?”
Rans shot me an odd look, water dripping from his unruly fringe. “No. Hardly. Why do you ask? Because trust me when I say, getting between those two right now would carry its own death sentence—no trial needed.”
I remembered Nigellus saying, ‘Honor isn’t really a demon concept,’ and I nodded thoughtfully.
“I have no intention of getting between them. But what if I could pull animus from Myrial?” I asked. “She was able to pull energy from me in Hell. She said it was because of our blood tie.”
Rans’ brows drew together, and his attention flew back to the fight. Myrial got a swipe of her blade past Nigellus’ guard, and he whirled away—nearly going down on one knee, but catching himself and turning the stumble into a low charge.
“Then I think you’d better start pulling, because this doesn’t look like it’s going to end well,” Rans said grimly.
I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the chilly rivulets of water running down my body. “Right. Uh... fair warning, though. I don’t actually know what I’m doing.”
Rans shot me another look. “And not knowing what the hell you’re doing has stopped you... when, exactly?”
I shrugged, not trying to deny it. He eyed me up and down before stripping off his shirt in one quick movement and handing it to me.
“Not that I wasn’t enjoying the view,” he said, “but judging by the state of your nipples, you must be freezing.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said dryly, pulling the sodden material over my head. It hung on me, but it did make me feel a bit better not to be flashing my tits at the whole world. “You might want to stop appreciating the view, by the way—it’ll distract me if I have to filter you out. Think of baseball statistics or something.”
“I’d rather not,” he said, still eyeing me oddly. “Why in god’s name would you think I follow baseball?”
“Cricket statistics, then?” I replied with some asperity. “Just think unsexy thoughts, please.”
He muttered something under his breath, but then another near miss from Myrial’s blade had both of us thoroughly focused on the fight once more. I hadn’t been kidding—I really didn’t know how to even start with something like this. To date, I’d
