by Susan Illene
Zoe rose to her feet again, sword in hand. “I’m not done with you yet, demon.”
Bartol could only catch glimpses of her as the prince spun him round and round. He couldn’t believe the foolish woman was still fighting and not running.
“Why are you helping me?” he asked in a garbled voice. His shattered jaw was healing, but slowly.
The demon stopped spinning to claw at Bartol’s arms. The tips cut deep, gouging his skin and drawing profuse amounts of his blood. He breathed through the pain and willed himself to hold onto his opponent’s neck. It wasn’t easy with his forearms getting shredded.
“For one,” Zoe said, slashing at the creature’s hands to make him stop hurting Bartol. “I’m hoping it will get me in my daughter’s good graces. For two, one of the nerou predicted I must play my part in this battle if we are to succeed.”
The prince snarled and clawed at her next.
“It could be the death of you,” Bartol warned.
Zoe ducked and rolled, finding a rhythm against the demon that kept her from getting torn apart. “I know.”
She’d done so many terrible things in life that he could hardly believe she’d bother trying to redeem herself now. Could the woman truly be that desperate for her daughter’s acceptance? He supposed he could understand that now that he was a father, but he wasn’t an evil lunatic like Zoe. Rebecca had made it clear she wouldn’t be seeing or talking to her mother often after learning about her mom’s many atrocities. Ironically, one of them was summoning a demon prince a few years back that had nearly killed Melena and Lucas.
Bartol drew out a little more essence before the demon jostled him hard, knocking one of his hands away. Bull riding would have been easier. Zoe was keeping their enemy distracted with taunts and strikes of her sword, but the creature made such jerky movements as it dodged and fought that it wasn’t easy to stay on the large, eight-foot-tall frame.
The pain in Bartol’s face had waned several degrees. He worked his jaw, finding the bone was starting to knit back together. “Keep him steady for me!”
“Easier said than done.” She dropped to her knees just in time to avoid a harsh blow to the head. “It’s like fighting a bear.”
The sound of shifting rubble drew Bartol’s attention toward the main compound building. Tormod rose out of the fallen debris, shaking dust and pieces of timber off himself before running his gaze across the battlefield. He had a nasty wound on his head and cuts all over his arms, but a determined look came over his violet eyes when he spotted the prince. The demon was going in circles with Zoe while Bartol drew what essence he could when his grasp was tight enough.
Finding his sword on the ground, Tormod grabbed it and ran to join them. When he was a mere ten feet away, Zoe flew right past him to land hard on the ground, clutching her ribs where they’d just been pulverized. Raising his blade high, the nerou aimed the point directly at the prince’s face. Bartol—still clinging to the demon’s back—ducked his head. A squishing sound came next. When he glanced back up, the end of Tormod’s sword was protruding from the prince’s right eye. The creature screamed, yanking the blade out and tossing it far away.
“You will pay for that!” it bellowed.
Tormod grinned, then turned to run toward an open field away from the rest of the battle. The fighting was getting too close to them. A handful of demons had made it into the compound and were fighting the angels and nerou near the stage. Tormod was smart to lead the prince away from everyone else so they could keep their opponent from hurting others.
“Come and get me, you bastard,” Tormod taunted.
The demon snarled and followed the nerou, shaking the ground with its huge feet. Bartol bounced along, gritting his teeth against the pain of his injuries being jostled. There was no way to extract essence until his target stopped moving. He dared a glance back and spotted Zoe rolling over to grab her sword. She leaped up and started to run after them, but there was too great a distance between her and the field.
After going a few steps, the woman disappeared in a flash of light and reappeared much closer. A determined expression came over her face as she got her bearings. She dove forward across the ground and slashed at the prince’s Achilles tendon. Bartol fought to hold on as the demon faltered from her strike and crashed to its knees. The creature roared and pawed at the grass. Bartol drew more essence for the next few moments until his target noticed what he was doing and tried to buck him off.
Zoe sliced at the demon’s large nose, drawing out a spray of black blood that spread everywhere. “How do you like that, ugly guy?”
The prince leaped toward her. Zoe flashed a short distance to the right while Bartol clung to their opponent’s neck. He took a little more essence while the demon searched for the female nephilim.
“Over here, snub nose,” Tormod said from the left.
The creature angled toward them like an enraged bull, swinging left and right as it tried to choose who to attack. Bartol held on the best he could and took whatever essence he was able to extract as they bought him time. His helpers took turns provoking their enemy and drawing the demon one way or the other without giving it an easy opening to strike them. They took an occasional claw to their leg or arm but nothing serious.
The distraction worked well enough that Bartol’s job became easier as the prince forgot about his presence. He could hold on tighter and wasn’t being constantly bucked. Even his jaw had a chance to finish healing, and the skin of his forearms was knitting back together. Without as much pain and discomfort, he was able to pull harder on the essence and speed up the flow. There was still quite a lot to take, but he had hope at this point he might finish.
Eventually, though, the demon’s tendon injury healed and it found its feet again. The bullish creature rose to its full height. Bartol flexed as gravity once more pulled on his arms, and he had to grip the prince’s neck much harder to stay on him.
Tormod stood a few paces away with his sword raised, waiting to see what their enemy would do next. There was no fear in the nerou’s eyes. Even after tasting the brunt of the demon’s strength, the young man didn’t show any hesitation. Bartol wished he could help in the fight, but he had to keep extracting the essence. It was flowing more quickly now and overwhelming him. His vision was starting to turn red with the raw power of it. The energy was incredible and highly seductive. Bartol couldn’t help but use a little for himself to give him an edge. As his strength grew, the demon’s waned a little. Their relationship became symbiotic until he wasn’t even sure where one of them ended and the other began. He doubted his opponent knew, either.
Rising voices drew his attention, coming to him likes echoes through a tunnel.
“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” the prince addressed Tormod.
The nerou flashed him a cocky grin. “Damn right I do.”
“How do you think we knew where to find this place, or when to attack?”
Bartol stiffened. He’d been so lost in collecting the demon’s essence and tasting its incredible power that he almost missed the revelation. He peered over the prince’s shoulder to find Zoe and Tormod standing still a dozen paces away in shock. It was a deliberate distraction, and they all knew it, but it was a good one.
“What do you mean?” the nerou asked, backing away slowly. He was smart enough to realize he couldn’t stand still for long, or the demon would use the opportunity to strike.
The prince laughed loudly. “You’re our spy, and you don’t even know it. We’ve been manipulating you the whole time, watching through your eyes and guiding your actions.”
Tormod faltered. “You lie. How else would I be able to fight you?”
“We wanted you to fight us, or else your friends would have suspected something was wrong,” the demon said, pleased with himself.
Bartol couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and yet he couldn’t discount it. Tormod had changed after his experience with the demon who’d kidnapped and controlled him. That was u
nderstandable, but his behavior had seemed a bit too extreme afterward. Could they have planted something inside of him that altered him even more than they realized?
It took Bartol a moment to recover from the revelation and resume extracting the essence. He was nearly halfway through, which was likely the reason for the prince’s stall tactic. From here on out, pulling the energy would get easier if Bartol stayed the course and didn’t get distracted again. He would have to worry about the issue of Tormod later.
Just as he resumed, the prince grabbed hold of Bartol’s arms and started prying them loose. He fought with all his might to hold on despite the demon’s greater strength. Sharp talons dug into his forearms and wrists, cutting into tendons and muscle and weakening his grip even further. If he were pulled off, it would be far more difficult to get back on a second time. Bartol’s arms were steadily sliding from around his opponent’s neck, but he kept his legs locked around the creature’s waist to help keep him from falling. He couldn’t let go no matter what.
Zoe stepped in front of them. “I don’t care how you got here or who you used to find us. I just want you dead and gone.”
The prince’s grip eased. Bartol breathed a sigh of relief, able to retighten his hold.
“Come get me,” the demon taunted the female nephilim.
She raced forward, sword lifted crosswise for a slash across her target’s throat. She was projecting the move too early—a huge mistake. Zoe wasn’t a well-practiced fighter, but surely she should have known better than to do that.
She flashed him a warning look.
Realization dawned on Bartol. Zoe was giving him enough time to anticipate her strike and protect himself. He cursed inwardly. After struggling hard to stay on the prince, he was going to have to let go and hope he could get back on again.
He dropped to the ground and rolled away, hoping the woman knew what she was doing. Above him, bone cracked and dark blood splattered everywhere. An ear-piercing roar sounded next, rage coloring it. Bartol glanced up and found his opponent had a small cut on its forearm where the blade had struck. The demon had lost enough essence that it was getting a little easier to wound him.
But the powerful creature wasn’t weak enough yet.
With a fearsome growl, the demon punched his hand deep in Zoe’s chest. “You little fool. I’m going to kill you now.”
Her whole body jerked, and her eyes widened as she looked down. For several breaths, she stared at the demon’s arm plunged into her body. Blood gurgled up through her mouth. A myriad of emotions—fear, regret, sadness—reflected in her eyes before they hardened with resolve. “Go ahead. Do it and see what happens.”
The foolish woman was goading him.
“No!” Bartol shouted. He searched for his sword, but he’d dropped it when he’d first jumped onto the demon, and the blade was nowhere to be found now. There was nothing he could do to stop the creature.
The prince pulled his arm back, jerking her heart out. She stood still for a moment, her mouth gaping open as she stared at her still-beating organ. It was nigh on impossible for anyone to take a nephilim’s heart because it was well-protected by their rib cage and shielded by physical magic, but she’d been taking a beating by a very strong opponent. The prince had been steadily breaking through her chest wall. Bartol had heard it was possible for a high demon to kill one of their kind, but he’d never seen it done until now.
“Tell my daughter…” Zoe’s eyes glimmered with tears. “Tell her I love her.”
“I will,” he promised.
The prince laughed mockingly as he squeezed her heart, pulverizing it. Zoe collapsed to the ground, skin turning ashen as death overtook her. Before Bartol could process her loss, a burst of blinding light exploded all around them. He squeezed his eyes shut against the glare.
Chapter 26
Bartol
When he opened his eyes a few moments later, he found golden embers falling all around them. They felt pure and good to Bartol, but the demon screamed as each spark touched its body. Its skin was sizzling and smoldering as if acid dripped on it. The creature fell to the ground, grabbing clumps of dirt to rub on itself. That did nothing to stop the burning. It growled and cursed, rolling all about.
Had Zoe known what was coming and rigged her heart somehow? Bartol had wished her death more than once, but not like this. It was as if she’d planned her own suicide to save them. He could hardly comprehend her actions, and yet he couldn’t sit around any longer. Pulling himself together, he rose to his feet and jumped onto the demon’s back while it crawled around on all fours. The embers didn’t hurt Bartol at all, but his opponent’s melting skin was hot to the touch. It was all he could do to keep his grip and start extracting the essence again.
“That’s the last person you’ll ever kill,” Tormod vowed, voice reaching them from a dozen feet away.
He’d come out of his shock and was marching toward them with violent anger blazing in his eyes. With one final leap, the nerou arced his sword downward to strike the demon’s left arm, cutting halfway through it. The creature rose to its knees and lashed out with its talons.
Tormod easily dodged. Determination lit his violent eyes, and he started hacking away at the prince wherever his blade could reach. With each strike, chunks of the demon’s skin came off, no longer hardened like before thanks to Zoe’s light bomb. Bartol had to jerk left and right as the blows came down one after another. He was three-quarters of the way through at that point, and the essence was flowing into him faster than ever. There was no way he could stop now, but he adjusted his hold to around the creature’s chest instead of its neck and braced his feet on the ground. Occasionally, he still got caught by the nerou’s blade, but with so much power inside of him, he was healing more quickly than usual.
After a few minutes, the demon’s arms were stripped down to nothing more than bone and bits of muscle. There were also numerous wounds to its head, neck, and shoulders. With a disgruntled roar, it stopped trying to protect itself and started crawling away as fast as it could while Tormod followed, slicing at any spot on the creature’s legs he could reach. With its powers being robbed, the demon couldn’t defend itself as well as before. It kicked a foot out, trying to trip the nerou, but didn’t quite reach him.
Bartol pulled on more essence and started sending the load he’d withdrawn into the atmosphere. Zoe’s death and the demon’s revelation had been cold dashes of water on him. He couldn’t keep any of the power for himself, and he had to let it go fast before it influenced him. There was no way he could afford to have even an ounce left inside when he returned to his daughter.
Doubling down, he extracted and released with each breath until the process was in perfect sync. No longer did he even pay attention to what Tormod was doing, concentrating wholly on his task. Finally, he reached the bottom of the power well where only trickles remained. The skin of the demon had turned paper thin, making his job even easier. Tormod cut and diced like a crazed man. The nerou was angry that he’d been used, and he reveled in the opportunity to take it out on the prince.
Bartol snatched the last piece of evil essence and released it into the air. “I’m done.”
“I’m not,” the nerou said, rage in his voice.
As the prince slumped across the ground, unmoving, Tormod didn’t let up his attack. Bartol had to dodge the sword strikes and grab the young man by the shoulders. “It’s dead. You can stop now.”
Tormod’s chest heaved. “He said…I’m a spy, but I didn’t mean to be. I would never…”
“We know that,” Bartol reassured him.
He dropped his sword. “How did I not know?”
Raguel came forward, covered in blood from the battle. “It was not your fault, but we’ll need to rectify that problem right away.”
It was then that Bartol realized the fighting had stopped. Dead human hosts and their body parts lay everywhere, as if the compound had just experienced a zombie apocalypse. Only a handful remained alive and moaning o
n the ground from their injuries—the few who the demons didn’t kill while inhabiting them. While he’d focused on one target, his father had been forced to handle the rest.
Bartol’s shoulders slumped. “My apologies. I’d meant to help you with the others sooner.”
The archangel shook his head. “Do not be sorry, son. The one you killed was a hundred times more difficult than the rest put together. I would not have thought you capable of such a feat, but you have proven your prowess more than I imagined.”
There was pride in his father’s eyes.
“Thank you.”
Lucas joined them. “It’s good to see this one didn’t make you lose your mind like the last powerful one.”
“I have a daughter to consider now,” Bartol said. He’d kept Sybil and Cori in his mind throughout the fight. It had made a major difference compared to the battle in London.
Raguel smiled. “It is amazing how having offspring can change a person so irrevocably.”
Jeriel marched toward their group and stopped next to Tormod. “Someone needs to pull the excess demon essence out of him right away.”
“You heard?” Bartol asked.
“The three of you were too busy to notice there was an impenetrable shield around you for the last fifteen minutes of the battle,” the archangel replied. “We could not intercede, but we witnessed everything.”
How long had they been fighting? As Bartol ran his gaze around the area, he found there were nerou and nephilim already cleaning up. Just as in Alaska, many buildings were destroyed, small fires burned, and there were dead and injured scattered everywhere. He’d been so absorbed with his role in the battle that he’d had no idea what had gone on around him.
He frowned. “Who put up the shield?”
“Several demons that infiltrated the compound. They set it up shortly after they made it inside and before anyone realized what they were doing.” Jeriel’s gaze fell upon the dead prince. “When I realized we were cut off from you, I thought for certain you wouldn’t survive.”