Slaying Monsters for the Feeble: The Guild Codex: Demonized / Two

by Marie, Annette

  “Zylas,” I whispered, pressing against his side, my lips against his ear. “Go back to the infernus. Quickly.”

  A shadow moved across me. Bethany grabbed my hair and hauled me away from Zylas. She threw me down and I hit a bucket, knocking it over. Discarded papers spilled across the floor and fluttered toward the abandoned air compressor and red jerry cans.

  “Stay there and be quiet, girl,” she ordered.

  I lay on my stomach, pain burrowing deep in my muscles from my earlier impact with the wall. A foot from my nose, a glossy photo lay amidst the scattered papers: my face, smiling back at me. A square graduate cap sat on my head and matching robes draped my small frame, while my parents beamed with pride on either side of me.

  My throat closed. My high school graduation two years ago. How had the vampires gotten that photo?

  “The demon smells so good,” a man groaned longingly.

  Half under the photo was a lined sheet torn from a notebook, the cream paper filled with handwritten blue ink.

  “Control yourself. Lord Vasilii doesn’t allow disobedience.”

  My fingers closed around the paper, and as I squinted at that familiar loopy handwriting, I slid the page closer. Something small clattered softly against the concrete—a ballpoint pen. A pen. Sucking in a wild breath, I stuffed the paper down the front of my sweater and took hold of the pen.

  “Lord Vasilii has promised we’ll get all the demon blood we want,” Bethany crooned delightedly. “Can you imagine?”

  I flipped the photo over and drew across the back in a single, swift stroke.

  “Mythics won’t dare hunt us then. We’ll be as powerful as they are.”

  “Even more powerful! Only we can bring demons down with a single bite.”

  Pressing the pen into another scrap, I drew a different rune across the paper’s full span.

  “Demons are even more susceptible to our bites than humans. We’re the ultimate demon hunters, and mythics have no idea.”

  The vampires laughed, voices coated in eager hunger. I crawled forward, belly sliding across the rejected papers they’d stolen from Claude, from Uncle Jack … from my parents.

  “Do you think Lord Vasilii would notice if we took one more sip from the demon?”

  Eyes fixed on the air compressor and the row of jerry cans beside it, I pushed myself across the floor.

  “He ordered us not to feed again …”

  “Just a little taste?”

  I glanced back and my lungs constricted. The three vampires were crouched around Zylas’s prone form. Bethany held his wrist, staring at the punctures in his hand from the bite that had brought him down.

  “I need more.” Drool spilled out of the corner of her mouth. “I need it.”

  “Bethany …” another vampire began sternly.

  Her mouth opened wide, fangs gleaming, and she pulled his hand to her mouth.

  I shoved off the floor and jumped toward the air compressor and its collection of jerry cans. A vampire shouted in warning. I flung my arm into the air, clutching the photo with a rune scrawled over the back. “Luce!”

  Light as bright as the sun flared, and the vampires cried out in pain. I grabbed the nearest jerry can and stuffed my second paper into the nozzle.

  “Ig—”

  An arm clamped around my neck, cutting off my air. The vampire dragged me backward and the can slipped from my grasp, landing on its side. Gasoline spilled out. With beastly strength, my captor hauled me over to the other vampires. They surrounded me, black-and-white eyes glaring down, the red rings brighter than I’d ever seen before.

  The arm around my neck loosened enough that I could breathe. Focusing as hard as I could on the slip of paper I’d shoved into the jerry can, I gasped, “Igniaris!”

  The paper burst into flames—and the gasoline fumes exploded. A fireball ruptured the can and whooshed out in a blaze of light and heat. It caught the other cans and they burst, flinging flaming liquid across the room. Fire roared, engulfing the exposed drywall. The papers all over the floor caught and the flames leaped higher, smoke boiling toward the ceiling and heat scorching the air.

  Yelling in alarm, the vampires jerked back from the spreading inferno. I tore free from their restraining arms and leaped toward the dark shape on the floor.

  Zylas!

  Chill air tingled across my skin, then arctic cold swept over the room, sucking away the fire’s heat. The flames shrank. Frost webbed across the floor in spreading fractals as the temperature plunged past freezing and kept dropping.

  Darkness swept through the room, drowning out the firelight—but within the darkness, crimson eyes glowed.

  I tripped over something and crashed down, half on top of Zylas. A warm hand pressed against my cheek. Power buzzed against my skin, then the heat rushed out of my body and flowed into the demon. As suffocating cold plunged over me, his eyes blazed.

  Power erupted over his hands in twisting veins. It raced up his arms, his shoulders, his neck, and leaked across his cheeks like creeping scarlet vines. Light bled around his eyes, which burned even brighter.

  His hand was still pressed to my face as he raised the other, muscles trembling with weakness but spread fingers steady.

  Inside my head, a ruby-colored array appeared: a radiant tangle of lines and jagged runes that crisscrossed and overlapped with wild complexity. Like sorcery but different. Not human magic but demon magic.

  It seared deep in my mind like a laser etching the pattern inside my skull.

  Power flared over Zylas’s hand. Magic erupted all around us, shapes and runes forming in the air. The magic I could see in my head took form in front of my eyes, the tangled shape arching over us. Power built in the runes, pulsing through every line. The air went colder, the fires snuffing out, the darkness pressing in.

  Evashvā vīsh.

  The spell curving over us blasted outward like a detonating bomb, ripping through steel and concrete. A cacophony of shrieking, banging, and crashing shattered my eardrums. The explosion tore the ceiling away, obliterating everything in its path.

  Zylas pulled my face into his shoulder and wrapped his arms over my head. Debris plummeted down on us, painful thuds and stinging cuts. The clamor died away, my ears ringing in the new quiet, broken only by the patter and crunch of falling rubble. Darkness lay over everything.

  A flicker of light. Somewhere among the wreckage, flames had reignited among the burst jerry cans and smoldering paper. I lifted my head, pulling free of Zylas’s arms.

  The room was … not really there anymore. A massive hole gaped above us, the ceiling little more than twisted steel.

  Zylas’s hand tightened around my wrist. His skin was chill, almost icy, and his eyes were dark again, his power expended.

  “Run, drādah.”

  Crimson power flared over him. His body dissolved and the light streaked toward a tangle of debris. I leaped after it and shoved aside smoldering drywall. The infernus lay on the floor, glowing with Zylas’s returning spirit. I snatched it up, and then I was running toward a dark threshold, the door torn off its hinges by the detonation.

  As I flew through the doorway, a voice shouted. The vampires weren’t dead. Some had survived that demonic unleashing. They were coming for me.

  I sprinted down the hallway, the dancing firelight fading the farther I ran. Dropping the infernus chain over my head, I wheeled around a corner and darkness engulfed me. My fingers tightened on the photo I still clutched. “Luce!”

  The cantrip flared, lighting my way, but it wouldn’t last long before the rune had to recharge. I raced down the corridor, trying vainly to remember the route Zylas had followed on our way in.

  As the cantrip’s light faded, I glimpsed an unlit exit sign above the next door. I shoved through it and into the inky stairwell. Reaching out with fumbling hands, I found the railing. I flew down the steps, rounded a bend in the staircase, and descended farther. When the stairway curved again, I stretched my hands out, blindly searching. A conc
rete wall … a door! I slid my hands down, found the handle, and shoved it open.

  Light bloomed, the lobby bathed in the orange glow of streetlamps.

  A bang echoed through the stairwell behind me. I flung the door shut, sprinted across the lobby, and slammed full force into the front door. It didn’t budge. Locked. I grabbed a heavy bucket of joint compound and threw it into the nearest window. The glass shattered.

  I was outside an instant later and clambering over a barricade. Then I ran as fast as my exhausted legs would carry me, one panicked thought in my head: get away from the vampires.

  Lights flashed and a horn blared. I stumbled to a halt as a car swerved around me, its brakes squealing. Another horn went off and a pickup truck roared past.

  I was in the middle of a road.

  The first car, stopped in its lane, gave another beep. The window rolled down and a middle-aged woman leaned out. “I almost ran you over! Are you all right?”

  My gaze darted to the building. Shadowy figures appeared in the dark interior, gathering around the window I’d broken.

  “Will you drive me home?” I blurted. “Please? I don’t live far from here.”

  As another car beeped angrily and pulled around us, the woman scanned me worriedly. “Maybe I should take you to the police station. Or a hospital?”

  “No, just—please. Please take me home.”

  She grimaced, then jerked her head toward the passenger side of the vehicle. “Okay. Get in.”

  I rushed around the car and yanked the door open. The moment I closed it, she accelerated, more beeping from the inconvenienced traffic accompanying us.

  “Where to?” the woman asked. “Hon? … Hon, you okay?”

  Tears streamed down my face. I slumped back in my seat, the infernus safely tucked under my sweater. The tower and its vampire nest disappeared behind us.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, pressing a hand over my eyes. “Thank you for helping me.”

  The woman patted my leg. “You’re safe, sweetie. Just tell me where to take you.”

  I mumbled my address, then belatedly buckled my seatbelt. As the woman changed lanes to head east, I looked down. Crumpled in my fist was the photo. I stared at my parents’ smiles, and for a moment, just a moment, I allowed myself to pretend that the helpful stranger in the seat beside me was my mom … and we were going home.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The moment I was through the apartment’s front door, I kicked my shoes off and rushed past the kitchen.

  “Robin?” Amalia appeared from her bedroom. “Holy shit!”

  I had no idea what I looked like. Every bit of me hurt, especially my back, but I wasn’t worried about my health. I dashed into the bathroom, pulling the infernus out of my sweater with my other hand.

  “Zylas,” I said breathlessly. “Come out.”

  The silver pendant glowed. Red light spilled down, then expanded into Zylas’s shape. As his body solidified in front of me, his dark eyes gazed into mine—then he crumpled.

  I grabbed him, gasping at his weight, and he clutched the towel rack for balance. It tore off the wall. As he staggered, Amalia dove into the bathroom and braced him from behind. Supporting him between us, Amalia and I pulled him over to the tub and tried to ease him down, but he was too heavy. He slipped backward and fell into the tub, his legs hooked over the edge and elbows smacking into the opposite side with hollow thuds.

  “Sorry, Zylas,” I panted. “Amalia, get the hot water on.”

  She spun the tap and water blasted from the showerhead, spraying across him. His dark eyes went wide.

  “Cold!” he gasped, seizing the tub’s edge. With sudden strength, he hauled himself up.

  “It’ll get warm in a minute!” I exclaimed. Amalia and I caught his shoulders and held him back. The last thing we needed was for him to collapse on the floor. “Just wait—”

  He grabbed the front of my shirt and tried to pull himself out of the water—almost yanking me down on top of him.

  “Idiot demon!” Amalia shoved him under the spray. He landed hard, water drenching him. “Would you toughen up for a damn sec—”

  Zylas’s head lolled back, half-lidded eyes emptying as though a light had been flicked off. He went limp.

  My heart gave one panicked lurch and stopped. “Turn off the water!”

  Amalia wrenched on the tap. The water cut off.

  “Zylas?” Putting a knee on the tub’s edge, I pressed a hand to his cheek, then patted it gently. No reaction. I held my fingers over his nose and mouth, lightheaded with relief when I felt his breath. “Zylas?”

  Amalia leaned over his other side. “I think he’s unconscious.” Her stunned stare turned to me. “We just knocked out a demon with cold water.”

  Should we have realized that cold water would have the opposite effect to hot water? “Let’s get him out again.”

  Together, we hauled the demon out of the tub, then ran the shower until the rickety pipes produced a steady stream of steaming water. We heaved him back under the flow, straining several muscles each.

  I checked his head was safely away from the water, then reluctantly faced the bathroom mirror. No wonder the Good Samaritan who’d driven me home had suggested we go to the hospital. My clothes were singed black, smeared with blood, coated in dirt, and torn in several places.

  Wincing with each movement, I tugged two of my three sweaters off, removed the infernus from around my neck, and pulled the notebook page and photo out of my last layer. I handed everything to Amalia.

  “Can you please put those in my room, then run a spare blanket and some towels through the dryer on high?”

  She nodded, took the objects, and left. With a peek to ensure Zylas was still out cold, I stripped down to my underwear, located a box of bandages and rubbing alcohol wipes, and cleaned the scrapes and scratches all over my body. Between my fall through a ceiling and the demon magic explosion, I was looking decidedly worse for wear.

  I checked on Zylas again, then hurried into my bedroom. As I pulled on sweatpants and a soft sweater, Amalia stuck her head in. “You decent? Good. Tell me what happened.”

  Grimacing, I outlined our vampire nest infiltration and its depressing results.

  “Another demon stole all the documents?” she repeated incredulously, following me back to the bathroom.

  “Not just any demon.” Sitting on the tub’s edge, I checked that Zylas was still breathing. “Claude’s demon.”

  “Guess he wanted his stuff back. Did you see the supreme asshole himself?”

  “No, just the demon. I’m not sure what kind of contract Claude has with it, but that demon has way more autonomy than it should.” Fighting my despair, I wet my hand in the steamy spray and rubbed the blood off Zylas’s neck. “Chances are, Claude and the vampires now have enough information to find Uncle Jack.”

  “And we’ve got nothing.” She tugged on her ponytail. “I still don’t understand what vampires have to do with all this.”

  “Demon blood.” I splashed water on the punctures in Zylas’s arm. “Those vampires have been drinking demon blood, and it makes them as strong and fast as a demon. They said their ‘lord’ has promised them even more demon blood to feast on.”

  “Where are they getting demon blood from? Aside from Zylas.” She gazed at him, nose wrinkled, then sighed. “Gotta say, I actually feel bad for him.”

  I felt worse than bad. Guilt dragged at my lungs.

  She left me to babysit my demon, and I fretted over his unresponsive state. After my one vampire bite experience, the tranquilizing effect had worn off quickly, but who knew how much worse it affected demons? Either way, his blood loss was my bigger concern; until he recovered enough to heal himself with magic, he would be weak.

  My guilt growing, I pushed his wet hair off his face, then combed my fingers through the tangles. I was considering grabbing my hairbrush when he stirred. His eyes cracked open, the faintest hint of scarlet glowing in their depths.

  “Hey,” I
said softly.

  “Sahvē,” he replied, equally quiet, his husky tones rougher than usual.

  “I’m sorry about the cold water. I didn’t realize …”

  Inhaling sharply, he pushed himself into a sitting position, the water pouring across his legs and lower torso. He angled his head away from the spray—away from me. “I did not tell you.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “If I am very weakened, too much cold will kill me.”

  My stomach swooped in dread. How close had we come to accidentally snuffing out his life? “You should have warned me about that.”

  “Why would I tell you easy ways to kill me?”

  Another swoop in my middle—a different kind. Jaw tightening, I reached down, heedless of the water misting my sleeve, and gripped his chin. I pulled his head toward me and growled, “Zylas Vh’alyir, you are zh’ūltis.”

  He bared his teeth and jerked away from my hand.

  “I’m not your enemy,” I told him angrily. “We’re partners. We help each other. I can’t fight like you, but I’ll do everything I can to protect you like you protect me.”

  His anger faltered, his brow creasing.

  “So don’t be a stubborn idiot. Tell me important things like how not to kill you by accident!”

  He snarled in answer.

  I turned my back on him and folded my arms, fuming. If I was fuming, I didn’t have to admit I was hurt that he still didn’t trust me. Did he really think I would murder him the next time he was vulnerable?

  “Drādah,” he muttered.

  I ignored him, nursing my righteous anger.

  “Drādah.” More insistent. Annoyed. Well, he could be annoyed. Served him right for so much as thinking I would—

  His wet arm snaked around my waist and he pulled me backward into the tub. I yelped but his hand caught my head before it could hit the tiled wall, and I landed on his lap, the hot water drenching my clothes.

  “Zylas!” I exclaimed furiously, hoping I wasn’t blushing but knowing I was. “What are you doing? You—”