Demon Marked

more important than defiance.

Lucifer’s terrifying gaze raked over her body, and he spoke.

The demon translated, “He makes an offer, halfling. He will return your pathetic human memories of your parents, your childhood. He’ll return your life to you, if you will agree to kill the Guardian. Your life in exchange for the Guardian’s, and then he will let you go.”

Not at the price of Nicholas’s life. Never at that price.

For a moment, however, she let herself consider the rest. Rachel’s parents, and their love for her. Oh, how she wanted to remember that. To have all of those missing pieces, filled in. But those weren’t her memories; they were Rachel’s. And if Rachel’s past returned, so would she. Ash would be lost, ripped away on an incoming flood of memories.

Ash didn’t need her life returned to her; she had one. And she recognized the irony that, when Lucifer had been creating her from Rachel’s remains, he’d torn away the one thing that might have made her stop and reconsider, the one thing that could have left her uncertain as to whether she should sacrifice her life to save Rachel’s: guilt. She was sorry for Rachel, but Ash refused to die to bring her back, and couldn’t feel sorry for that.

In any case, Ash didn’t believe for a moment that Rachel would make it out of here alive—or manage to save Nicholas. Whatever the reason behind Lucifer’s offer, it wasn’t to let her go. His offer had to be part of a plot.

After all, Nicholas hadn’t been wrong about all demons. He’d just been wrong about her.

“No,” she said.

Terrible silence reigned for a long moment. Finally, Lucifer spoke and left.

That was it? No gutting, no screaming? Ash couldn’t believe that Nicholas’s pain had been enough. So why not do the same to her?

The demon waited until the door shut, and his cower became a gleeful grimace. “I’m to sew up the Guardian and wait for him to heal,” the demon said to her. “Then we start all over again. I am truly favored.”

Ash bit her tongue. She’d seen the demon’s reaction when Nicholas had spoken of Lucifer. She wouldn’t give him any excuse.

His eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer, examining her face. “We are not to spill your blood in this realm. Not even a drop. Do you know why? If your answer gives me power, I can reward you.”

So that was why she wasn’t being gutted. But she would not foul her mouth by answering him.

The demon shrugged. A roll of wire appeared in his hands—thin barbed wire. “So I’ll sew him up, then.”

God. And Nicholas was still conscious. He couldn’t always hold her gaze; he was still awake. His jaw clenched now as the demon moved in front of him. Pain.

She had to get free. She had to get free now, while the demon’s back was turned, while he worked. This might be their only opportunity.

The chain was fastened to the ceiling with some kind of big bolt. She wasn’t sure she could break either, not just by swinging or moving. She’d have to brace herself, use her full strength—her feet against the wall, maybe. She couldn’t swing that far. Pull herself up the chain, then, brace her feet on the ceiling—except the manacles held her hands too far apart. She couldn’t grasp the chain between them. She already knew the steel wouldn’t break.

. . . but her hand would.

God. Like a wolf chewing off his leg to get out of a trap? She would do it, she would do it.

But she didn’t need to. She only needed her hand to fit through a hole the size of her wrist. So there was just a choice to make: What did she need more, her smaller fingers or her thumb?

She thought of her weapons in her cache. Chose the thumb.

The first bone snapped. Ash held in her cry, watching the demon for any sign that he’d heard it. No, she’d been making too much noise, rattling and screaming this whole time.

And he’d never believe the halfling would get free, but she had to hurry. He’d almost finished sewing, would turn around, and the opportunity would be lost.

Now the second bone. Snap! Oh, God. But it was working. Her hand slipped a little in the manacle. Nicholas’s head came up. His eyes opened and met hers. His Gift flared.

The demon snipped off the end of the barbed wire and looked at him. “There is your Gift. I will tell—”

“Don’t you want to be the first to know what it is?” Though he was barely able to speak, Nicholas’s voice covered the next snap!

“Tell me.”

“I see fear. Yours. It’s like a black ribbon, all around you. You fear Lucifer.”

“As all demons do.”

Snap!

Her hand slipped through. The chains rattled as she swung, unbalanced.

Nicholas smiled. “You should have feared her.”

Ash called in her boomstick. Thumb, forefinger. That was all she fucking needed.

The demon turned. Very close range, hellhound venom. She pulled the trigger. The boom echoed through the chamber. His face exploded.

“Loud,” Nicholas said. “Go fast.”

“I know.” Before the demon had even collapsed to the floor, she’d vanished the weapon again, reached up for the chain. It took one good pull to haul herself up. Bracing her feet against the ceiling, she yanked. The bolt tore from stone in a shower of chips—she fell.

Between heartbeats, she flipped around, got her feet under her. Landed.

“My God, you’re amazing.”

She formed her wings, leapt for his chain. Pulled it free. He dropped—even she couldn’t outrace gravity and catch him.

But he was sewn up, so nothing fell out.

He stood, his hands locked together in front of him. “Manacles?”

“No time. Here.” She placed a crossbow in his hand. It would be awkward, but he could fire it. “Come on.”

She shifted into her demon form, vanished her clothes—and vanished the manacle and chain, too.

Nicholas stared. “What the—”

“They aren’t connected to the tower anymore,” she realized. “They’re ours now, so we can take them.”

“Take mine.”

Oh, that made it so much easier. She vanished the manacles, his chain. Facing the door, she took a deep breath. “We really need more training before we do this.”

“We’ll get it. After we get out.”

She shoved open the door, ducked into the corridor. No glowing red eyes. Just screams.

A lot more screams than there had been before. The smell of ozone and charred flesh choked the air.

She expected the charred flesh. Not the ozone.

Oh. Oh . . . She knew who that was.

“Open your mental shields,” she said. “Now. Let them find us.”

Three pairs of glowing red eyes appeared in the middle of the corridor. Sir Pup. Jake stood in front of the hellhound, electricity arcing between his hands. Holding a bloodied sword, his skin blackened with soot, Hugh stared through the darkness toward them.

“Say your names,” he said.

She started forward. “Ash and Nicholas.”

“Truth.”

Jake nodded. “Then get your asses over here, hang on to me. Let’s get the fuck out of—Oh, Jesus flippin’ Christ. St. Croix, what did they do to you?”

Nicholas took Ash’s hand, reached out to touch Jake’s arm.

“Strangely enough, they gave me a present. And Lucifer gave more than he bargained for.”

They found a healer first.

Jake teleported them straight to Pim, sitting in the novice common room on the second floor of the Special