Wren glanced at me before her hand fell away. Looking over her shoulder, her eyes went between the ouro blocking our way and the jinn behind us. Then, the ouro’s massive rattle at the end of its tail came into view before slipping away. The cloud of dust settling into place afterward was the only thing marking the ouro’s passing.
“We have to go,” I whispered and stepped away from Wren.
She followed me as we continued down the channel the ouro had crossed. All ability to see vanished once more as I turned into another tunnel. The serpent had bisected this tunnel and gone a different way, but it was only a matter of time before it tracked us down again.
Chapter Ten
Wren
Exhaustion was something I’d experienced hours ago. Now, I had no words to describe the bone-deep weariness encompassing me. Every step felt like I was wading through a swamp. Keeping my eyes open had become a losing battle, and I was certain I’d fallen asleep while walking a few times.
Once, the rumbling of my stomach had woken me, but I’d adjusted to my hunger pangs and the dryness of my throat. Food and drink were two things I was used to going without. I could go another day, possibly two if it remained cool in here, before dehydration really started to affect me.
I kept my hand on Corson’s back, so I would know if something gulped him down. My other hand rested on the butt of my gun, but it slid off every time my head drooped forward. Stopping was death, but I’d love to be able to sit for a minute. I didn’t dare wish for it. The idea of drawing the jinn to us was almost as frightening as the serpent stalking us through its lair.
The rancid stench of something worse than the ouro’s breath hit me. I was slapped awake by the smell burning my nose. It caused my eyes to water and nearly sent me reeling away to vomit. The possibility of retching on Corson’s boots was the only thing that kept me from throwing up.
“What is that?” I choked out as I pinched my nose in a useless attempt to block the odor.
“I think we’ve found where the ouro is stashing its regurgitated meals for later feeding.”
I gulped as bile surged up my throat and my hunger vanished. “Is it ahead of us?” Or worse… “Are we standing in its saved food?”
The possibility had me gulping again and afraid to take another step. I’d seen countless atrocities over my life, but I’d never had the misfortune of standing in snake vomit.
“No. It’s coming from a side tunnel. Come,” Corson said and briefly touched my arm.
I fell into step behind him again, unwilling to release my nose until I believed it was safe to do so. My nerves had gone beyond the point of frayed, and I couldn’t stop imagining we would simply walk into the ouro’s mouth. If that happened, I’d slice the ouro’s tongue off and fire holes into its throat as it gulped us down, but that wouldn’t stop it from swallowing us like the whale swallowed Jonah.
Even with that horrible prospect in mind, my energy deflated again, and I found myself shuffling behind Corson instead of lifting my feet off the ground. I didn’t know how far we’d traveled before my chin hit my chest and my head jerked up.
Blinking, I realized there was still nothing but darkness surrounding us. The firelight by the jinn had been so warm and inviting; those pillows a little bit of Heaven, but what looked so pleasurable at first glance, revealed itself as a nightmare upon closer inspection.
The suffering etched onto the woman’s face was something I’d never forget, or the blood seeping down the man’s back. My experience with sex had been far from earth-shattering, but it had been more pleasurable than that.
Sometimes I wondered if the circumstances of my life had left me frigid and unable to enjoy sex. A lot of the women Wilders gushed about sex, especially my friend Jolie, but I could take it or leave it.
I’d never revealed those thoughts to anyone. I knew it wasn’t normal to feel that way, knew I’d be met with shocked expressions if I did tell someone that. Jolie would probably be determined to fix me and shove me at the first guy who walked by. She’d insist I try again, as if it were like learning to shoot and the more I did it, the better I’d get at it. Maybe that was true, but I had no interest in trying again.
Well, maybe I had some interest in trying again, I realized. Corson made me feel not so frigid, and whereas I’d decided sex wasn’t necessary in my life, I found myself craving him as my hand slipped down his back.
When I realized I was licking my lips, I jerked my hand away from him and rubbed my eyes with my knuckles. Exhaustion and a concussion, that was what was wrong with me and why I had these bizarre imaginings about being with a demon.
My thoughts turned back to the jinn and the poor couple. Guilt tugged at me over leaving them behind, but dying to save two strangers who might not deserve saving was pure stupidity. I hadn’t lived this long by being stupid.
“Why would they do that?”
“Do what?” Corson whispered, and I realized I’d spoken the question out loud.
I shook my head, then felt like an idiot when I realized he couldn’t see me. “The jinn, to those people, why would they do that to them?”
“Like other demons, the jinn survive by feeding on suffering.”
A shiver ran down my spine at the stark reminder of what he was and how he survived.
“The jinn feed on it more than others,” Corson continued. “Most demons survive solely by feeding on wraiths, but other demons like the jinn and canagh require more.”
“I see.”
I smacked into his back before I realized he’d stopped before me. A tingle of awareness slid over my nerve endings when my hand brushed over his before I stepped away from him.
Does he infuriate me so much because I am so aware of him? I wondered. I’d noticed other men over the years, but none of them had riveted or unsettled me as much as Corson did.
“It is necessary for demons to feed on wraiths,” he whispered. “It’s part of the circle of life. Without it, all life would cease to exist.”
“Really?” I asked, hating that I found myself intrigued.
Corson’s sigh caused his breath to caress my cheek. There was a smoky hint to his breath that I found surprisingly pleasant. “For someone with so much hatred toward demons, you know nothing of us. Our existence is necessary for your survival.”
“And humans are necessary for yours,” I retorted. “Maybe I don’t know all there is to know about demons, but I know that much. The demons who follow the king, such as you, wouldn’t be fighting to preserve the human race if you didn’t need us for your survival.”
Demons may not be as atrocious as I’d believed all these years, but they weren’t warm or loving either. They’d let us die without blinking an eye if they didn’t need us for something. Some of them were friendly to humans, but most were completely indifferent, and others couldn’t hide they found us as useless as a rudder on a duck’s ass and as annoying as gnats.
Corson was probably the most social of all the demons, except for maybe the skelleins. And the odd little skellein demons were as happy drinking the beer they brewed as they were chopping off an enemy’s head. Sometimes I believed they’d be as happy chopping off anyone’s head, enemy or not.
“Yes, humans are necessary for our survival,” Corson replied. “And the demons who follow the king are known as palitons. Those who stand against him, the ones who followed Lucifer and are now either scrambling to find a new leader or already have found one, are known as craetons.”
“Oh.”
The softest footstep was the only sign I had that he’d started walking again. I hurried to catch up with him.
“Demons took everything from me.” I crashed into his back when he stopped walking again. “Stop doing that!” I snapped as I stumbled away.
“Humans took everything away from you,” he growled. “Your species was playing with things they never should have played with. Because of that, they opened a gateway into Hell, into our world. Their ignorance tore apart the intricate balance between Hell,
Heaven, and Earth. A balance that took millions of years to form, yet they ruined it in an instant.
“What happened after Hell opened was a result of the human’s actions. We worked hard to make everything right again by closing the gateway, but it was too late. There is no undoing what was done. I don’t think we ever could have fixed the destruction the humans wrought, not even if we closed the gateway seconds after it opened.”
He was right; I knew that now, but… “It was demons who tore my mom limb from limb while I watched,” I spat at him. “Not humans.”
When he rested his hand on my arm, I moved it away from him. I couldn’t deal with any sympathy from anyone while the familiar rage and sorrow over that memory swelled in my chest. Screams resonated in my head, and tears burned my eyes as the lump in my throat choked me. For the first time in years, the memory of her face, her fervent words to me on that day, and her love for me broke free to swirl through my mind.
Afraid the grief would bury me, I shoved the memories aside and focused on the now.
“Yes, humans screwed up big time,” I whispered, “but they weren’t the ones laughing as they poured my mother’s blood all over them and down their throats.”
“I’m sorry, Wren. You shouldn’t have had to experience that. No one should.”
I was glad I couldn’t see his face, because if I’d seen pity in his eyes, I would have punched him in the nose. I didn’t know why I’d told him about that day in the first place. What did he care what had happened to my mother, or anything about my life? Why had I revealed to him something I’d only ever told Randy before?
I certainly didn’t trust him as much as I trusted Randy. I also loved Randy; I barely tolerated Corson.
Liar! There was that stupid little inner voice again, and I hated it!
It’s the dark and the possible concussion, I decided. That’s why I revealed that to him.
I couldn’t see him; he almost wasn’t real if I couldn’t see him. Plus, these could be the last moments of our lives. Of course, I was thinking about my mother more now when I’d spent years trying to forget her and that day. I’d watched her die, and my death could be unfolding in these tunnels. For all I knew, my next breath might be my last.
And after what I’d seen yesterday—or at least I thought it was yesterday, I had no idea how much time had passed since we’d fallen into the ouro’s trap—it only made sense the memories of my past would be closer to the surface than they’d been in years.
Chapter Eleven
Wren
Corson pulled me from my reverie when he stepped so close his chest brushed against my arm. “Not all demons are like that. Some—”
“We should probably stop talking now.” I couldn’t stand to hear him making excuses for the monsters who had brutalized my mother. “That thing will hear us.”
“We’re not all like that,” he said again. His warmth against my side vanished when he turned away from me.
And what are you like? I almost asked him, but I clamped my mouth shut against the question. I didn’t want to know what he was like, or anything more about him than necessary. So why did I suddenly feel so alone? Why did his lack of warmth leave me feeling like that eight-year-old child watching her mother die all over again?
This time I heard his footfalls stop before I walked into him. I didn’t hear him turn, but his hands fell onto my arms and then slid up to my shoulders. I tried to shrug him off, but the gesture came out feeble, and even I recognized it as half-hearted.
“How old were you when your mother died?” he asked in a raspy voice.
“What difference does that make?” This time my attempt to shrug him off was stronger, but he still didn’t let go.
“I’m trying to get to know you better.”
“Why?” I asked distrustfully. I would give anything to see his eyes, to try to read what he was thinking, but the dark wouldn’t yield its secrets.
His thumb stroking my cheek caused a strange flutter in my belly. Was this what people meant when they said they had butterflies in their stomach? It had to be, and these weren’t small butterflies; no, these were behemoths flapping against my insides. My mind screamed at me to get away from him, but my head turned until his thumb brushed over my lips.
My heart beat so fast I believed it might explode out of my chest. Corson moved closer until I could feel him standing over me as he touched me with a reverence I wouldn’t have expected from him. With tender hands, he lifted my face, and his thumb stilled on my lips.
I felt the increase of his breathing against my chest, and I realized my breath had fallen into rhythm with his. He pulled my lip down a little, and before I could register the thought, my traitorous tongue slid out to lick his thumb.
I quickly regained control of my insanity and stopped, but the salty taste of his flesh lingered on my tongue, and I wanted more of it. Why does he have to taste so good? I wondered as my head spun and a sound of pleasure rumbled from him.
Step away! But I remained unmoving as his thumb caressed my lips again.
It’s only because of the dark, only because this could be the end that you’re allowing this!
My mind screamed this at me, but I knew it was more. Corson had intrigued me since we’d first met. The dark and possibly impending death made me more willing to let some of my curiosity be satisfied, but they were not the only reasons why I was allowing this to continue.
Would he kiss me?
If he tried to kiss me, I’d knee his nuts into his stomach.
Liar!
Damn inner voice! But it was right, and I found myself unable to breathe as I waited to see what he would do next.
He drew me closer until his breath tickled my mouth. I barely felt the feathery touch of his lips as they moved over mine, but they sent prickles of awareness throughout my body. He was barely kissing me, yet I felt it all the way to the tips of my toes, and I wanted more.
Then, he stopped. The fullness of his bottom lip and the stiffness of his upper one pressed against mine as he remained unmoving.
I almost mewled a protest over this unbearable teasing, but I managed to keep it back so I could at least maintain some semblance of dignity. Was he playing with me? Why was he not—
I never had a chance to finish that question before Corson spun away from me. His arm swung up against my chest, and a hiss sounded. The hair on my nape rose as I realized what the dark hid. Something splattered over the rocks, but whether it was ouro blood or Corson’s, I didn’t know. The weight of Corson’s body was ripped away from me. Something thudded, and Corson grunted as rocks clattered against each other.
Pulling my gun free of its holster, I aimed it before me. Corson wasn’t directly in front of me anymore, that was all I knew as I fired and prayed I didn’t hit him with any of the bullets. The deafening reverberations caused my ears to ring as I kept pulling the trigger.
We’d brought a lot of ammunition with us when we’d left the wall, but after years of skimping on bullets, it felt reckless to fire so many now when I had no idea if I would hit anything, but shoot them I did. Most Wilders knew how to make bullets, but wasting necessities wasn’t something we ever did.
I’d do whatever it took to help Corson though and put an end to this monstrosity stalking us. Flashes lit the tunnel every time I pulled the trigger, and I found myself preferring the dark as each shot briefly illuminated the ouro I’d seen by the jinn.
Dirt and rocks crunched under my boots as I shuffled rapidly from side to side. I kept firing so the creature wouldn’t know for sure where I was, though it wouldn’t be difficult to locate me in this tunnel.
Each flash from the gun revealed something new about the snake. All the numerous tails curving out of the ouro were bent over and pointing toward me when their rattles went off. Its forked tongue flicked in the air, missing my hands by only centimeters as a bullet embedded in its flesh. Black, beady eyes met mine in the next flash. There was no soul behind those eyes; there was nothing but insatiable hu
nger.
On the next flash, Corson leapt from the shadows.
Flash…. Corson clung to the monstrous creature.
Flash…. His talons were buried straight through the snake’s head.
Flash…. Pulling backward, Corson tore a line down the center of the ouro.
My stomach turned. My gun clicked as I continued to squeeze the trigger a few more times before registering that the weapon was empty. I shoved it back into my holster and pulled my knife free from where it hung on my hip. No matter what happened, I’d make the ouro regret swallowing me every inch of my way down its vast throat.
I gripped the knife, holding it steady in preparation for an attack. I no longer experienced nervousness or doubt when it came to fighting. There was no room for either, and I’d taken on so many demons over the years that fighting was as normal to me as eating. Once, years ago, I’d questioned what that said about me and who I was becoming, but those questions had long since ceased.
I barely remembered the girl I’d been before the gateway opened, and it often felt like she was an entirely different person. I knew she’d enjoyed apples and baking cakes, pies, and cookies. She’d loved dolls and dresses. Her favorite dress had been black with a fluffy skirt and red apples all over it. She’d twirled in it for her parents, who had laughed and clapped over her antics.
I wouldn’t be caught dead in a dress now, I had zero use for dolls, and the extent of my baking was sticking an animal on a spit to roast it. That girl wouldn’t have survived a week in the Wilds. I had survived fourteen years.
I strained to hear anything over the incessant ringing in my ears. Something screeched against the rocks, Corson grunted again, and the creature released a hissing scream that caused my ear ringing to ratchet up a notch. I tried to follow the sounds of the fight while I hunted the ouro with my knife at the ready.
Hell on Earth (Hell on Earth, Book 1) (Hell on Earth Series) Page 6