A Demon's Duty (The Demon Guardian Trilogy Book 1)

by Katherine Kim

  It must be related to his demonic nature, May realized. She was mostly sure now that she could work with him. It would be strange to say the least, but she did trust him to keep her safe while she performed the banishments and cleansings she would need to use to destroy these monsters. And then all the sort of things she usually dealt with would be entirely minor compared to these things. May knew that she still carried a heavy load of grief with her, but having someone there that she knew she could rely on went a long way to keep her steady. Someday she would make Michael tell her why he did it, but for now she decided to simply accept the situation and lean on him. There would be time for all that once these damned hounds were dust.

  May shifted slightly and frowned, letting her odd new awareness guide her through a large warehouse room. It smelled of wood and brick and water outside, but in here it stank of animal. She was in a narrow space behind a stack of crates, just taller than she was herself. From the other side of the wall of containers came quiet snuffling sounds, a scrape of claws on a floor, somewhere close something metallic and large rattled. May stepped out of the makeshift hallway and gasped. Stretching down the warehouse wall opposite her was a row of huge cages, each easily big enough to hold an elephant. And each cage had a demon hound pacing inside. May gasped and the hound nearest her growled softly, challenging her to be foolish enough to come closer.

  She took a deep breath and told herself to keep moving. First step, find out what happened to Michael. Second step, destroy these monsters and put an end to this. No more lives were going to be lost to these things.

  A wooden staircase led up to a wide balcony. Probably where managers could come out to see how work was proceeding, if the warehouse had been used for it’s true purpose. That was were Michael was, at least, so that’s where she was going to go. She froze when the stairs creaked under her step, but the wind was whipping against the building making the old structure sway slightly to add it’s own creaks and groans to the pre-storm chorus, so she kept moving. At the top of the stairs there was a single door, hung so long ago that it no longer shut fully. She pressed an ear to the frame and strained to hear words in the low rumble of conversation inside, trying to determine what was going on before she tried to creep through it. The woman was talking.

  “I can’t even imagine what you must have gone through this past century. But it’s over now. I’ve come to bring you home.”

  May’s heart froze. Michael was leaving? No, she shouldn’t believe that. He said that he hadn’t made any agreements, right? And after the last battle he’d been genuinely worried for her, May thought, in his awkward, confused sort of way. Hadn’t he? It was just simple coincidence that had brought him to the battlefield at just the right time, wasn’t it? He couldn’t have planned to steal a Guardian’s power. That didn’t even make sense, it had never been done before and she was sure he was as surprised that it worked as everyone else was. How would he have known he could take James’ Mark and his power? She shook her head and listened again.

  “If only it wasn’t so cold there.” The woman said. There was a rustle of fabric, then Michael’s voice.

  “At least don’t let me drink alone...” The wind beat against the outside of the warehouse, rattling the windows and sounding hollow against the roof, then from inside the room the clink of a glass being placed carelessly on a table

  “We’re even now.” Said Belit. “I do love a tall man.” He really was going to leave her alone— really alone this time— wasn’t he?

  May had heard more than enough. If he was willing to let that woman seduce him that was his business. She forced her throat to work, swallowing the bitterness, and turned away from the door. She didn’t want to know what came next. She had a job to do now, and if she had to do it alone, then so be it. That was how she’d be for the rest of her life, after all, might as well get used to it now. The wind picked back up with enthusiasm as she tiptoed back down the stairs. Faced with the row of cages, she considered her options. Her new spells should do well against the tough hides of these mutant monsters. She really should rest between each volley, but she wasn’t sure how much time she’d have before the lovebirds came out to interrupt.

  The quiet snort nearby got her moving. Nine cages, she counted as she passed them. Nine hounds. Well, might as well get started, at least she could take out a few before she was caught. She faced the cage at the far end of the row, not letting herself think about what was going on in that room upstairs. She reached the last cage and walked the end around to make sure that there wasn’t another row. The hound inside was the size of an SUV with teeth as long as her hand. The thing was much more terrifying than she remembered, and it was watching her move past the bars of it’s cage. She swallowed down her fear because it didn’t matter. She had to finish this. For James and for Pike, and for those other teams that weren’t as lucky as she had been.

  The storm hit like a bomb going off. May jumped, the sudden rage of rain outside sounding like it would bring the whole building down. The hounds didn’t care for the sound either, each protesting in their separate cages. The hound in front of her growled, staring at her now with an animal’s hunger and a sharp drive to destroy. It lunged at the bars ofthe cage, jerking it slightly across the concrete floor. She yelped, and stumbled over her feet to fall over backwards. Oh gods, what was she thinking? She had to get out and call Lee and Paula. There was no way she could do this alone!

  May scrambled to her feet and darted out to the open space between the cages and the crates. She bolted straight down the aisle towards the front of the building where she saw several doors. One of them had to lead outside. May picked one at random and slammed into the middle door, her hands sliding over the knob. Behind her she heard the crash of metal hitting concrete and one of the hounds bellowed. In her mind it swiped at James who went skidding across the grass. Her eyes went wide and she turned to face her death.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Michael took a last look at the unconscious demoness and climbed back off the bed, sighing. He wondered idly what sort of potion she’d used, but then shrugged and turned away. May was out there in the main warehouse and it seemed likely that the hounds were as well, and that was a combination he didn’t much care for. He stepped through the wooden door surrounded by the heavy blue curtains, and listened for sounds above the wind that was now whipping around the old brick building. Rain couldn’t be far behind; the first true storm of the season. The wooden walkway was old— much older than the sheetrock walls— which indicated to him that the renovation was more cosmetic than anything. The room was lit by huge industrial fixtures, about half of which were on, revealing a space that stretched away from the balcony for several hundred feet giving it a fairly narrow feeling, the huge cages down one side closing the room in still further. Somewhere in the middle of the row of cages one of the hounds growled low.

  The storm broke with a crash of rain on the steel roof turning the whole place into a drum, the noise agitating the beasts below and making Michael’s skin prickle. The cage nearest to him shook as the hound slammed itself against the bars. The others followed suit, and quickly the whole row was rattling as the pack tried to escape the noise of the storm. Near the far end of the room one of the cages shifted, the hound inside protesting its confinement. A shriek sounded and May darted out from behind the moving cage, scrambling for the door to the front offices, below the balcony. The far cage gave up its battle and the hound roared free, riled by the storm and the scent of fleeing prey. May disappeared under the edge of the catwalk he stood on and he heard her slam into the wall. Of course the door she tried was locked. The hound closed in, it’s huge claws clacking and scraping against the floor as it came.

  Michael yanked the old blade free and it sang clear and sweet as he jumped over the railing to sheathe it to the hilt in the hound’s neck. The beast roared and the rest of the pack answered it’s pain as it lurched to the side. The sword slid out of Michael’s hand, blood and slime sprayed from the wo
und coating everything nearby, and he was thrown against the wall. The hound collapsed, its neck nearly severed, and Michael rolled to regain his own feet. Somewhere behind the body, he heard another cage give way.

  “May! Don’t just stand there. Go!” He snapped, forcing his concentration onto the fight rather than the woman. A flash of light blinded him for a moment, and when his vision cleared there were two more hounds coming, but the one in front of him was half gone.

  “I learned some new tricks while you were out this afternoon.” May said. She scrambled over to him. “Two down, seven more to go. At least none of them are as big as a bus this time.”

  The conversation had to wait as the pack closed in to attack. Michael managed to wrench his sword out of the slumping corpse beside him and charged at the nearest attacker. The music from his blade soared over the storm and the snarls of the hounds as it drank in a battle for the first time in well over a hundred years. Michael, rusty from his century of relative peace, had no attention to spare for May, but another flash of that pure light told him she was still fighting. He had to concentrate on his own fight. He was surrounded by teeth and claws easily as strong as his own blade. Michael was relieved to have it; no mere dart would do much damage to these things on its own, these beasts had to be severely weakened before such a blow could end them and he realized how lucky he’d been just a few days ago. He found in himself a greater respect for the two Guardians who had kept May alive in the last fight. After the fourth— fifth?— creature died under his hand the blade was again ripped out of his grip as his victim reared back in pain. He crouched, ready to tear into next beast with nothing by his own claws as a conduit for raw power, but was met with near silence. Even the rain had slowed to a quiet patter, the worst of the storm blown out.

  “May!” He looked around and saw her, gasping to catch her breath and leaning on one of the pillars that supported the balcony. “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head. He realized she’d been wearing his coat during the whole fight as he stepped slowly over to her, careful not to slip in the pools of slime dripping from the hounds she had blasted that were just starting to fade into smoke. That ridiculous coat was probably how she’d stayed in one piece, and how she’d managed to avoid Belit’s attention for so long: Michael’s own power had been masking May’s.

  “Just exhausted. That spell is tougher to rapid fire than it seemed in the book, and even there it didn’t sound like a walk in the park. You?” She glanced up at him, dark fabric flapping on her slim frame as she tried to catch her breath.

  “What were you thinking?” he snarled, his patience finally cracking. “You hadn’t even tested that spell? You could have been killed! Repeatedly!” May’s eyes widened and he saw a flash of confusion in her eyes before she responded.

  “What do you mean what was I thinking? I was thinking that I had a job to do. I came in here to kill those fucking things! What were you thinking?” She snapped back, eyes narrowing. “Making that bitch show you where this place is? That I understood. But then going upstairs to make time with her?” May pointed wildly at the balcony door.

  “I told you to stay put! In a place that was well away from here! As in out of harm’s way! What possessed you to come sneaking in here? You barely made it out of the last fight in one piece! Did you even call for anyone to come help you?” Michael paced, prowling from the windows and back to jab a finger at May, trying to exhaust the worst of his anger by moving. “And then you didn’t run when I told you! You have spent the whole evening ignoring and evading those of us trying to keep you safe. Are you actually trying to get killed? Is that it? You’d rather join James and Pike as soon as you can? Is that so much more preferable an option to you than to just trust me?”

  “Trust you? I did trust you. Then you went running off the moment some floozy demoness batted her eyelashes at you!” May raged back at him. Her eyes flashed as she stalked up and glared at him. “You think you’re so good at hiding things and scheming, well think again. I heard your whole conversation. Go ahead and go back to the Demon Realm with her, I’ve done what I came to do. I don’t need a Guardian I can’t rely on to stick around.”

  She spun on her heel, stalking away from him towards the outside door. Michael growled and grabbed her shoulder, twisting her to face him and thrusting his face inches away from hers. May gasped and squirmed under his grip and he forced himself to relax his grip.

  “First, I knew you were in here, you idiot.” He hissed directly into her startled, angry glare. “I knew you’d followed us. And then you actually came into the building like a thoughtless, impulsive nitwit, so I had to find some way to distract Belit so she wouldn’t notice the foolish little priestess who thought she could sneak in and destroy an entire pack of oversized, magically enhanced, demonic hounds on her own after barely surviving her last encounter with them.” He ground his teeth and turned, taking a step away. He had to get himself back under control. Being cruel to May would solve nothing, especially at this moment. “Second, you clearly didn’t hear the whole conversation or you would have known that I was stalling her. And finally, for your personal reference, I doubt it’s even possible for me to return. Even discounting the possible problems with that that have arisen because of this Mark,” he stabbed his finger at his shoulder, his Mark tingling in response, “I have lived here in the Human Realm for too long.”

  A steadying breath helped him regain his composure. The dark windows reflected the room back and he realized that he still wore his demon face. He sighed again and ran his hand through his hair, shedding a few small chunks of bloody hound flesh and resuming his human disguise. No wonder she’d tried to get away from him. An angry demon inches away is usually more than enough to terrify any human, even a Temple trained one. He started to turn, glancing back at May and leaped to get between her and the hound. He was just fast enough to knock her aside as the beast’s jaws closed around his hip, and the hound shook him like a rag toy.

  Michael knew he screamed with it, his throat burned from the sound, and he hoped that the noise wouldn’t bring any further attacks as well. He twisted, trying to dig his own claws into the beast’s throat, to find some leverage, but it’s teeth were sunk deep into his body and he just couldn’t reach. The hound knew it was dying anyway, but it was determined to take at least one of its enemies out as well, and Michael could admire the tenaciousness of the beast even as he knew he would lose as well.

  A flash of light and he felt the teeth release their grip.

  “Michael!”

  That’s right. May was wearing his armor, so he was wearing effectively nothing, not that the jacket would have done any good against those jaws anyway. Well, at least she could be satisfied with the outcome of the evening— rid of both the threat of the giant hounds and rid of him too. All in all a good evening’s work. If she called Paula and Lee, no doubt the three of them could take care of Belit as well and be free to bury James and Pike and to heal, finally. He felt something drag across his torso and groaned as explosions of pain danced past his closed eyes and the the world mercifully just slid away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  There was something warm sliding down his throat. It was distantly familiar somehow.

  “Gibil, you should have killed him. As it is he will only try again.” His mother scolded him while she worked, dabbing the damp cloth over his wound until she was satisfied. He lay there on he couch, every breath stabbing him through his chest. It was like the larger boy was still punching him, even though the battle had ended some time earlier. He dug his clawed fingers deep into the cushions and squeezed hard to avoid showing any further weakness to her.

  “Why should I have to, Mother? What’s the point?” He lay there, bloody and in pain while she tended to the most serious injuries. “I defeated him, I won the fight.”

  “Because that is how it is in life. You must kill them before they kill you. You must survive your childhood, Gibil, and you must be respected.”

  “But
I didn’t care about his stupid game. I just wished to finish my reading. And now my book is gone as well!”

  “Darling, you know full well that the game was simply an excuse. Uruk was drawing you out so your death could look more accidental. It was a more adult plan, and I am proud that you were clever enough to provoke a direct attack. That was good! But next time you must fight to the end, not merely until you gain the advantage. Now he has the opportunity to try another tactic.” She finished wrapping the gauze around his spindly arm. “Now, you go to your room and rest, and when you have healed some you must finish this. Think about your best strategies to do so. I will be happy to help you think of some suitable punishments for him later, if you like, but you rest first.”

  “Yes Mother.” He stood, careful of his wounds and trudged through the ornately carved door.

  Someone poured more liquid past his lips. Just a dribble again. What was it? His side throbbed and he could hear a voice murmuring something. Some sort of chant. The voice. He knew that voice. It was important. Why did his shoulder feel like it was on fire? And his back stung brutally. More of the thick liquid. He swallowed and focussed on the voice. It was saying something else now, but was already fading away again.

  “Michael. Come on, this has to work. Michael!”

  The greasy young man across the street gripped the child’s shoulder so hard that she winced. No more than perhaps six, Michael judged, her brown hair was wildly tangled and she looked like she had been crying. Unusual for humans— they normally went to great lengths to prevent their young from crying. It was unusual enough that Michael payed more attention to the scene than he usually would. The man was saying something to the child and the child’s tears welled up again as she answered without looking up at him. He could almost hear the conversation when he tried, but the look in the man’s eyes practically shouted his intentions to Michael.