by Holly Evans
Fifty-Eight
The remaining fae and hunters began to gather around us, increasing the defences between the remaining demons and Elise. The hope was contagious. I didn’t dare look to see what Elise was doing. A flash of bright white light blinded me momentarily; the demons all stopped dead in their tracks; their eyes widened before they doubled their efforts to break through and reach her. The witches had all been killed. Their screams were satisfying after everything we’d been through. An intense humming rumbled through the air. It was quickly followed by a quick-paced chant in a tongue I’d never heard before. The ground began vibrating; the demons wailed and threw themselves against us. One of the priestesses was thrown aside as though nothing more than a rag-doll. A hunter and a Sidhe stepped into her place and sliced open the stomach of the demon who dared try and break through.
The lycans moved in around the back of the demons, some of them standing guard over the holes. We were making progress. We could see their numbers reducing. The chanting increased in tempo and volume; the priests and priestesses joined in the chanting, all of them beginning to glow a silver white. Still we fought, our blades slicing through the thick hide of the demons as they fought fiercely, pushed on by the knowledge that this would be their last chance. One tried to run. The lycans were on it within moments, dragging it back into the square as it howled and thrashed. One lycan screamed when it was gutted; two more jumped on the demon to avenge their fallen packmate. The demon died an agonising death when the lycans tore the skin from its body, taking their time ripping its muscles apart before they dragged out its innards and sprawled them out around it.
Redcaps swarmed another demon that threatened to charge the line. It was dragged down to the ground. Nothing remained but a heap of blood and mangled flesh by the time the redcaps moved away. Bright white light filled the square; a silver light crept out over the ground. The floor rumbled and shivered below us. Demons wailed as the pits began to close. Slowly, the brown stone moved forwards, shrinking the holes and blocking access to any fresh demons. Brawny arms thrust upwards and tried to crack the stone; it was to no avail. It was done.
The pits were all closed, solidified. No more demons could enter our world. That left us with the ones we had remaining. The priests and priestesses all took a step back, while the rest of us pushed forward. It was a silent decision made between the group. I gripped my blades tighter and ran at the closest demon, a ten-foot tall monster with two sets of horns that curled around the back of its head. It stood naked with black scaled skin and yellow teeth revealed by a gaping thin-lipped grin. We surrounded it, Lysander on my left, Quin on my right. Hunters and Sidhe moving around the side of it. Together, as a united front, we approached it. It lashed out with long arms and razor sharp claws; the hunters hacked at each hand and arm with their blades. They bounced off and did nothing more than make the demon laugh.
The hunters rushed towards it, screaming. The demon laughed once more and went to swat them away; they ducked and ran between its legs while Quin, Kadrix, Lysander and I all ran at it with our blades. Kadrix and Lysander scaled its legs as though it were nothing more than a shallow slope. Quin and I hacked at the heavy muscles and tendons around its knees. Its scream was almost deafening. It tried to stamp on us. Its feet, larger than my sofa, almost crashed down on my head; I rolled to the side in barely enough time. Lysander and Kadrix proceeded to hack at its chest and neck. Enraged, it swatted at them; Quin and I dove in once more, hacking at its knees, forcing it down to a kneeling position. Lysander landed on his back on the stone. His pain sliced through the back of my mind. I focused on the task at hand while I watched him from the corner of my eye. The Sidhe hacked at its arms and wrists, stopping it from hitting the rest of us while Quin and I plunged our blades deep into its stomach. Kadrix scaled its great neck and hung off one of its horns to thrust his blades deep into its eye. It bellowed and screamed. It lurched forwards. I took my chance and sliced its throat.
It fell forwards with an almighty crash. Dead. A great cheer went up around the square. It was over. We’d won.
Fifty-Nine
I knelt at Lysander’s shoulder and cradled his head on my lap, tenderly stroking his hair while he recovered. His breathing was shallow and his eyes closed, but his heartbeat remained strong. The immense pain he was suffering echoed in the back of my mind, but I knew he would heal himself. He had to.
I leaned down over him and whispered, “You promised me, hound. I will not lose you.”
I wasn’t the only one knelt by injured members of our party. Quin held Kadrix close as the elf rested his head on Quin’s shoulder; priestesses and priests bustled around Elise. A glance to the east showed Matyas bowed over Viktor. There was too much blood. I made a mental note to pass on my condolences. The lycans howled, a sorrowful mourning call to the new morning. We’d lost a lot through the battle, but we had won. The city was ours once more.
Lysander stirred, his eyes opened and a smile spread across his lips. “You chose to keep me.”
I smiled and whispered, “Was there ever any doubt?”
His lips brushed over my ear. “No, but I had to let you think there was.”
I continued to stroke his hair as his breathing deepened and the pain lessened. He was my hound. I didn’t choose him, but he was mine, and I swore to keep him safe.
A great cheer went up for Elise when she stood. Her cheeks turned bright pink under the smudged white make-up. She held her hands up for silence; everyone crowded around her.
“We did this together. This is our city, and long may it stay that way.”
Another cheer went up; the lycans yipped and howled. Happiness and glee washed over the survivors, pausing the grief and mourning for a few minutes, at least. There were no arguments or rivalries: lycans grinned at redcaps, Sidhe gave small nods to the hunters. It wouldn’t last, but I revelled in it while it did. Once everyone had moved away some, we, Lysander and I, pushed through the remaining people to reach Elise. Quin and Kadrix already stood with her. Quin and Elise pulled me into a tight hug that threatened to squeeze the breath from my lungs; Lysander and Kadrix joined the mix and made sure I couldn’t breathe. I held Elise tight; pride for her, for having her as my best friend, brought tears to my eyes. The emotion of everything, the past few days, welled up. I couldn’t hold it back. We held each other, tears flooding down our cheeks.
We collected ourselves and turned to face the men.
I sighed, “We’ll need a clean-up crew or ten, and a story for the humans.”
Azfin waved his hand. “The Sidhe are working on a memory matrix, the humans will believe it was all part of the filming for a movie.”
I gave him a small nod and said, “Thank you.”
He returned the nod and walked away to the rest of the Sidhe.
Matyas lifted his head and said quietly, “What can I do?”
Quin patted him on the back. “Arrange the clean-up crews, we won’t be able to keep the humans out for much longer.”
The hunter stood a little taller; having a task gave him something to focus on.
I looked around our little group, “And what do we do now?”
“Shower,” Kadrix said.
We laughed; what other choice did we have? We were coated in the blood and entrails of demons, witches, and our fallen comrades. We had already cried, and so we laughed. I took one last look around the square and reminded myself that it was a victory. The hulking masses of the demons were slowly burning of their own accord. Great heaps of ash sat next to the empty black robes of the witches. The lycans were dealing with their own. They’d mostly shifted back into their human forms and carried off the bodies of their packmates.
I reminded myself that we’d won as we walked away, leaving the others to return it to as it should be, as though it never happened.
The journey home was quiet. Lysander remained close to me, his fingers brushing over my hands. Quin held Kadrix close and accompanied him to his home; Elise slipped away to her church
with a particularly sexy priest. I couldn’t say I blamed her. So much life had been lost during the fight, it was only natural to want to lose herself in the pleasures of another. The flat was quiet with just the hound and me. The memories of the battle began to haunt me each time I closed my eyes. There was no longer anything to hold it all back. Drawing a deep breath, I focused. We’d won. We were alive. Lysander and I both discarded our blood-stained, tattered clothes, leaving us in just our underwear. There was no shame or concern at being so exposed with him. We’d been through too much together.
I took my time cleaning Lysander’s remaining wounds. I was careful to be as gentle as I could be when I dabbed and rubbed the paste over the cuts and bruises. The faint lines of his scars called to me, begging me to trail my fingers along them. I ignored the call and focused on easing his pain. He watched my every movement, his muscles relaxed and his breathing calm. He made no comments, and I was grateful for it. I was in no state to deal with the overwhelming maelstrom of emotions that warred within me. I feared that if I opened my mouth it would all pour out and I’d crumble.
When he picked up the cloth to tend to my wounds, I couldn’t. I left him a kiss on the forehead and went for a long hot shower. He was my hound, but, he remained just that. My hound. There were moments where I wanted more, but they were quickly extinguished by fear. I scrubbed myself clean, making the skin raw in some places. I revelled in the comforting familiarity of my butterscotch shower gel and focused on it, trying to use it to purge the images of the fight from my mind. Tomorrow would be a new day.
When I emerged from the steam-filled bathroom, Lysander scooped me in his arms. I was glad to have pulled on something to sleep in. He carried me to bed, our bed. He wrapped me up in the blankets and pulled me into his arms, holding me close to his chest. “I will protect you, mistress. Sleep well, without fear.”
He nuzzled against my neck, and I knew his words to be true. We would protect each other, and in turn, protect our city. No lasting harm would come to Prague while we still lived.
End Note
End Note.
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Book Three (Witch Infernal) will be published on August 30th 2016. It will go up for pre-order in July.