by Mila Young
He studies me for a long moment, saying nothing. Worry worms up my spine. I don’t know what I can do besides refuse. I can’t fight him if he forces me, or worse, tortures me, but I’ll stand my ground however I can. My soul was taken from me without my consent. There’s no way I’m going to go to Hell willingly.
The longer he doesn’t say anything, the more my stomach twists into a pretzel, but suddenly, his hand slides across my lower back. I stiffen reflexively. “I understand your concern,” he says, his words as surprising as his touch. “It may be possible that we can adjust your contract.”
I balk at that and peer up at him. “Wait, what?”
“For helping us track all the relics we need, we can look at maybe releasing you.”
I can only blink at him, unsure if what I heard is right. “You’ll break the contract you have over me? I’ll have my soul?”
“I’ll have to discuss it with Dorian and Elias, but it’s a potential option.”
A surge of excitement rises through me. That is everything, and if all it takes is finding relics, well, shit. Let’s do this.
We continue walking again, and I can’t help smiling. I never thought there’d be a way out for me. Well, a true way out, since killing all three of them was never realistic.
Ignoring the tingling deep in my chest, I focus my attention on finding these damn relics, and quick.
Cain stays close to my side, the sun on our backs. By the time we reach the seventh container, the thumping of footfalls race up behind us.
Glancing over my shoulder, I spot Dorian jogging toward us. “All clear.”
A shadow suddenly falls over us. I flinch out of instinct, and my stomach drops, expecting danger, but when Elias lands in front of us, all grin, I relax. Show off.
“Clear on my side, too,” he says.
Cain gestures for me to step forward. “Let’s keep moving then.”
We do, pausing at each container briefly. At the sixteenth one, a slight twitch runs over my pinky.
“We’re close.” I hurry my steps. The intensity grows with each step I take, bringing me right in front of the last container. I roll my eyes. “Of course it would be all the way at the end.”
“Are you sure this is it?” Cain asks, standing so close to me his arm rubs against mine. Dorian and Elias are there too, pressed near.
“Hundred percent sure. My pinky toe is doing an Irish dance. This is our container.”
Cain grins. “Stand back.”
We follow his instructions. He pulls at the metal lock, testing it. Surprisingly, it pops open immediately, making me wonder if it was even locked to begin with. Uneasiness curls in my gut. Could this really be that easy?
“Be careful,” I whisper to him.
Tossing the lock aside, he hastily heaves open both doors.
I’m frozen on my feet, curiosity pulsing through my veins. We all push our way forward for a better look inside. Light spills into the darkness. I had expected a mountain of gold coins and jewelry, or a bunch of trinkets like I’d found in the collector’s warehouse, but we don’t find any of that.
A man sits inside on a plastic chair, in the very center of the otherwise empty container, with a small box at his feet and a very pleased look twisted on his face. A face that makes dread ice over my veins.
Sir Surchion.
Chapter Twenty-One
Cain
A primal growl rips from my throat.
Sir Surchion sits before us, legs wide, wearing a fucking grin that I want to tear off his face. Pure dark eyes pass by me and find someone else, and a fierceness cuts across his face. “Miss Cross.”
She steps back.
Fists clenching, hellfire blazes through me. My heart speeds, my demon form snapping forward. Hearing him say her name, seeing the way he looks at her, and seeing her fear, it enrages me unlike anything else.
Elias snarls, while on my other side, the runes across Dorian’s chest and shoulders glow blue through his sweater.
“Remember what I said before?” I ask the two of them, my voice deeper and more guttural in this form.
Elias snarls, spit flying, and drops onto all fours. The shift rockets through him, and in the blink of an eye, a massive black hellhound stands in his place.
Dorian’s horns curl, and his hair turns platinum as he changes. “To keep this PG? Yeah?”
We exchange knowing looks. My wings stretch open, shielding Aria from the collector’s view. “Fuck it.”
“Now you’re speaking my language.”
At the same time, the three of us rush forward.
Sir Surchion lifts his hand from behind his back, grasping a silver cylinder the size of a spray can. The mad man laughs.
Panic hits me instantly. It’s a grenade.
Fuck! “Pull back!” I yell at my team.
In a heartbeat, Sir Surchion pulls the pin and tosses it to our feet. It hits the ground, and with it, an explosion of smoke rushes out. It swells so fast, swallowing everything in sight in mere seconds.
We retreat, stumbling backward. The stale gas floods my senses, but there’s no hint of bitterness.... no poison that I can taste. My eyes aren’t stinging either, so this is a mask to blind us.
I whip around just as Elias snatches Aria off her feet. Smoke swallows them along with everything else in sight, dividing us.
Sonofabitch.
“We do this like we did in Hell,” Dorian says from somewhere on my right. “Remember the infernal pits?”
I smirk. Our old hunting grounds where sulfur leaked through vents in the ground, strong enough to stunt a man.
A sudden whoosh of air blasts against my back, driving me forward from the force. Gray gas undulates around us, along with the echo of beating wings.
“He’s taken flight,” I shout to Elias and Dorian. Wherever they are.
A looming shadow swoops over us suddenly, confirming my fears.
Knife-like claws jut out of the vapor and race straight for my face.
I twist away, ducking frantically, and throw myself into a forward roll.
Burning, sharp scratches rip down my back, tearing fabric and skin alike. I hiss, the agony excruciating, but thank my luck my wings haven’t been damaged.
Shoving myself to my feet, my back is on fire, but I push past the pain. I hear Dorian’s howl of frustration and pain close by. The dragon’s gotten to him, too.
Panic gripping me, I dart in his direction, tearing through the fog.
Knowing I need to find a clear line of sight, I shove off the ground and take flight. My wings beat swiftly, helping me gain altitude, but with each movement, the open wounds on my back sting mercilessly. I grit my teeth as I emerge from the smoke and take note of how much ground it’s managed to cover. It’s impossible to see anything down there. I curve around just as something slams into my back so violently it drives me toward the ground. Tucking my wings in, I spin, trying to redirect myself away from the ground, but the smoke is rushing toward me fast. The ground isn’t far off, but I’m able to gain a draft of wind just in time to lift myself at the last second.
My celebration is short lived, though, because an immense weight shoves into me again. I hit the ground this time from about ten feet high and roll as my momentum continues to drive me forward. Suddenly, the dock gives way, and I’m falling toward the icy water.
Desperate, I whip my wings out. The talons at the ends embed into the boards, and I’m able to grip onto the edge and haul myself up back.
Breathing hard, I kneel there on the dock, trying to regain my bearings. Behind me, I catch sight of the dragon swirling high above us in the sky. Bastard. The wind swirls through some of the smoke, but not enough to make it disperse fully. It does, however, allow me to see shadows moving among the haze.
From the shapes, it looks like Dorian is scaling the containers to get height on the dragon while it swoops low, toward Elias and Aria, whose figures are getting smaller the farther away they run.
I roar and drive my hand
s to the ground, pulling on all my strength and power. An inferno blazes down my arms, fiery red flames erupting out of my hands, so hot it scorches the wood underneath me within seconds.
Rushing into the chaos, the fire around me casts orange and red lights across the fog. Above me, Dorian leaps container to container, catching up to the dragon fast. He takes a death-defying leap and lands on the creature’s back. He swipes his claws across its neck over and over, cutting through scales and muscle.
The dragon falls, skidding across the ground. Elias snatches Aria and hurls them both out of its path in the nick of time.
When Sir Surchion rises, I’m stunned again by the dragon’s size. It’s taller than the stacks of metal cargo boxes. He glints like the color of night, his scales a silvery gray, and with bat-like leathery wings that snap outward. Burning smoke rises from his flaring nostrils as he whips his head side to side, Dorian struggling to hold on.
He spins and Dorian flies off, smacking into one of the boxes with a loud thud. He collapses onto the ground, but he jumps up and quickly vanishes behind a container.
The dragon’s gaze pins on me next. Then, unleashing an ungodly sound, it takes a deep breath, and I know what’s coming.
Tapping into the darkness inside me, my whole body sizzles with power. I propel everything I have behind it, shooting my arms out. Fire streams out of my palms just as the dragon spews out an explosion of flames. Our attacks slam together in defensive combat, each as strong as the other. Flames lick the air, sizzling and crackling.
Heat overwhelms me, but the dragon doesn’t seem to be backing down. Suddenly, there’s a blur of something swinging through the air. It smacks into the creature, sending it toppling over its own feet, and the blast of fire ends abruptly. Its head slams into the side of a metal container, its neck bent at an awkward angle, and it crumples.
Extinguishing my own hellfire, exhaustion rakes its claws through me. Being on this plane has me so much weaker than normal, and I hate it.
It’s then that I realize what collided with Sir Surchion in the first place. The giant metal arm of the crane.
Even more shocking, it’s Dorian who’s in the machine’s driver seat.
A smirk tugs at my mouth.
But it seems we’re not done yet. The dragon is already squirming, trying to get up again. His tail swings unexpectedly, and he uses the spiked end as a battering ram to whack into the crane. Dorian throws himself out as the thing teeters over and crashes into the water.
Even from a height like that, I’m sure he’ll survive. Incubuses are very nimble and athletic demons. Hopefully he was able to avoid the arctic waters, though. That’s where things could get problematic for a Hell creature.
A terrible cry shakes the air. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Elias’s jaws clamped on the dragon’s softer underbelly. He’s doing all he can to shake and tear, but the dragon rears up, lifting him off the ground, and roars.
But if Elias is there, where’s Aria?
I search the dock for her. Through the fog, a flutter of dark hair darts across the alleyway, behind another container, and I sigh with relief. As long as she stays out of the way, she’ll be safe.
Another beastly roar erupts, shaking the very ground beneath us, and my gaze whips back to the dragon. Dorian’s there already, joining Elias in the fight to bring Sir Surchion down. He’s on the creature’s back again, this time slicing into the thinner membrane of its wing. Looks like he was able to land the fall and keep away from the water after all.
Knowing that they need me, I rush over. But strong gusts of wind slam into me, forcing me to stop short. The dragon’s wings thrash frantically.
It’s rising again.
Elias and Dorian both leap off it just in time and hurry over to me. Smoke from the gas grenade curls around the monstrous creature, creating the illusion of it climbing out of the depths of a fiery volcano.
ARIA
A shiver grips my spine at the dragon rising before us. Between the crane, Cain’s fire, Dorian’s deep slices, and Elias’s tears, its injuries should have killed it. But it’s still flying higher and higher, disappearing past the smoke.
I’ve crept closer to the demons, but I’m sticking to the shadows and staying hidden behind the boxes as best I can. I don’t want this to end up like the Milo Swamp where protecting me almost cost Cain his life. I need to stay out of the way.
They’re demons with amazing, otherworldly abilities, after all. And I’m just… me. Whatever the hell that is.
Standing silently behind Elias, Dorian, and Cain, I can see the severity of their wounds. Dorian’s ditched his sweater and shoes at some point during the fight, and dark purple and yellow bruises line his left arm. His one ankle looks painfully swollen, too. Probably from landing that fall before. He’s lucky that’s all he got—anyone else would have died.
It’s more difficult to assess Elias’s injuries with all his black fur, but blood is matted along his stomach, so that can’t be good.
But neither of their wounds are nearly as serious as Cain’s. Deep gashes stretch across his back. The dragon’s claws ripped into his flesh and muscle like it’d been nothing more than tissue paper. I’m amazed he isn’t paralyzed or dead. Blood drenches what’s left of his shirt, yet he doesn’t even wince when he moves. His gaze is trained on the dragon’s shadow as it moves across the sky, looking as determined to kill the bastard as ever.
I wish I could do more to help, but what?
“We can’t let him get away again,” Dorian says to the others.
“I know,” Cain huffs. I can see his muscles tense and shift beneath the skin as his wings try to reform, but all he manages to do is split the cuts wider and make more blood flow. He gasps, his brow dotted with sweat. Dread grips me. His wounds are so bad, he can’t even manifest his demon anymore.
A strip of black glides over me, and when I look up, I see a sharp beak and feathered wings. It’s Sir Surchion’s damn crow, Mordecai, coming to add to our troubles.
“There!” Cain shouts suddenly, pointing at the sky. The dragon’s dark outline becomes more visible as it swoops lower to the containers. It's losing altitude, probably from being hurt. “After it!”
Elias and Dorian are off, but Cain stays for a breath longer. He peers my way, finding me instantly. He says nothing, but his blue eyes swim with concern. Then he dashes off to follow the others.
Mordecai swoops by me again, this time heading down the row of storage containers toward the open one at the very end.
Oh shit!
My stomach flips. He’s going after the relics!
I dash after him, but there’s no way I’m going to outrun a bird that can fly.
Just then, a familiar tingling races up and down my spine. It’s so strong, I’m forced to stop dead in my tracks. My entire body tenses, knowing exactly what’s coming next.
“Sayah, no,” I bark. “Don’t you dare.”
But it’s no use. My normal shadow trembles as she takes its place, immediately stretching herself across the ground, down the narrow path.
My body is taken over by a terrible tingling sensation, like when your foot falls asleep but worse. It runs through my legs and arms, causing me to lose all other feeling, let alone take another step. Biting the inside of my lip, I try to force myself to lift my foot off the ground, but my muscles aren’t listening to my commands. Just like Sayah.
She follows after the crow, expanding out of me rapidly. The further she gets, the more stress she puts on the tether binding us. And the more stress on the tether, the weaker I feel.
She makes a sharp left into the open container at the same time the crow ducks inside. The orangey-red sparks begin to race over my skin and across her shadow, and I’m smacked with the same terrible suffocating feeling I’m always left with when she decides to go solid.
Already shaky, it doesn’t take much to make me collapse. I lean against the cool metal of the closest storage box and try desperately to swallow more air into my cons
tricted lungs. Everything aches, and exhaustion pushes down on me.
I can’t pass out. Not here. Not now.
As my eyes glaze over and unconsciousness tugs at my brain, I see a dark figure in front of me. I wonder if it’s one of the demons, but then something solid presses into my hands, and like the flick of a switch, my energy snaps back into me. I blink rapidly to clear my vision and see the shadow before me is just… me. Sayah is gone—returned into me all on her own. And in my hands is the box Sir Surchion had by his feet.
The relics.
I can feel their darkness pulsing through the box. And their song… it’s muffled, but the hypnotic tune still leaks through the seal.
Sayah helped us? Again? There’s so much more to her that I need to understand.
My gaze sweeps the area around me. The distinct shape of a bird glides through the smoke. I watch as it turns and flies farther and farther across the water until it finally disappears. Seems like Sayah scared Mordecai. Good.
Standing slowly, I look out again and realize none of the guys or the dragon are nearby. I can hear the grunts and snarls of fighting in the distance, but I’m pretty much alone where I am.
Alone.
With the relics.
An idea sparks to life. I can leave. I can get away. The demons are busy, and I have the relics to sell. I can run to the driver and ask him to take me somewhere—anywhere—and then I start my new life.
This is my chance. But do I take it?
I glance down at the box again. The thing vibrates in my arms.
I… don’t know.
My thoughts tug me in so many directions, making my stomach ache. I should be helping the demons. Not here hesitating.
A massive shadow darkens the yard, and when I jolt my head up, I see the spread wings of the dragon as it blots out the sun. I grip the box tightly to my chest.
Knowing the creature is descending, I duck between two stacks of containers to hide from sight. The beast lands at the top, right above me. I can hear the metal groan under his enormous weight. Air rushes all around me as he continues to bat his leathery wings, and more dust and smoke rains down. I shield my face to keep any of it from getting into my eyes.