They Rend: A Nyxia White Story (The Nyxia White Stories Book 2)

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “I told you,” I said, as I formed my chakram, unleashing the power of the Darkin within. “I’m not leaving here without you.”

  “That’s new,” Acheron said, looking at my weapon. “Is that an upgrade? Nice to see you listening for once and taking my advice.”

  “We leave here together, or we don’t leave at all,” I said.

  “I’m firmly in the leave here together camp, but the only way you can manage that is by—no, Nyx,” Acheron said, as he finally understood what I was going to do. “I told you, it will kill you. You can’t.”

  I flexed the muscles of my jaw and focused on tracking Quinton’s energy as it moved from the upper level. He was coming.

  “Let me know when the circle is completely gone,” I said. “I’ll get you off that cross.”

  “Touching, but futile,” Quinton said, as he glided across the room, dropping to the floor from the upper level soundlessly and forming a swarm of black orbs around him. “You have no comprehension of the damage you’ve caused.”

  “Enlighten me,” I said, drawing my claws. “If you can.”

  “With pleasure.” Quinton unleashed the swarm of angry, black orbs in my direction. “This will take but a moment. Stand still, and accept your death.”

  “I’ve never been good at following orders,” I said, separating the chakram in my hand. “How about…no?”

  “You have a toy?” Quinton scoffed. “You think your little weapon is going to save you? I’m a Night Division sorcerer, and you are merely a stupid demon who has outlived her usefulness.”

  My conversation with Gryn came back to me:

  “A blood sigil? I thought those were banned?”

  “So is summoning a Demon Lord. It will require both of your blood to break the bond.”

  “Shit, how much blood?”

  “Enough to make it dangerous.”

  “The circle is gone,” Acheron said behind me. “I strongly suggest against this course of action. It’s suicide.”

  I turned and ran toward Acheron. While I ran, I used the chakram to slice my forearm, causing a deep wound. I could feel the orbs behind me, and silently thanked Gryn for three weeks of obliterator dodging.

  I rolled to the side, avoiding Quinton’s orbs, coming to a stop next to the cross. I used my finger to trace half of the blood sigil on Acheron’s face.

  “This is going to hurt,” I apologized. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t do this. Not like this.”

  I sliced into his arm with the chakram and pressed my fingers into his wound. His dark blood covered my fingers as I traced the second half of the blood sigil on the other side of his face. I had just finished the sigil when several of Quinton’s orbs punched into my side. I reflexively reabsorbed my weapon, as the orbs launched me away from Acheron and across the room.

  “Now, you stupid demon, you die while your pet watches,” Quinton said, then turned, looking at Acheron. “Don’t worry, I will make sure she suffers long and hard before I put her out of her misery. Then, you’re next.”

  A black cloud of energy began bubbling around the base of the cross. Quinton stopped in his approach and faced Acheron.

  The sigils on Acheron’s face smoldered with demonflame, burning his skin. His eyes slowly transformed into something dark and deadly, forcing me to look away. I willed myself to look again. As I watched, Acheron’s skin turned scaly and metallic. Black energy crackled around his body as he laughed.

  For the first time tonight, I realized I might have made a mistake.

  Acheron’s laugh made standing in front of the Majoras a pleasant memory. He had become something I had never seen. Not even when I summoned him did he look like this. He was revealing his true nature, and all I wanted to do was find somewhere to hide.

  “Why wait?” Acheron asked, as he stared at Quinton. “Don’t delay the inevitable...kill me now.”

  “Wait, what are you doing?” Quinton asked, holding up a hand as he backpedaled. “Stay back.”

  “I don’t think so, sorcerer,” Acheron said, as his body burst into orange demonflame, incinerating the cross to ash, before returning to normal. “That was refreshing. Now, where was I?”

  I was more surprised by the fact that Acheron’s clothes were untouched, than the fact that he had just switched on and off bodyflames.

  “Die, you demon spawn!” Quinton screamed, as he unleashed a barrage of black energy orbs at Acheron. “I’m sending you back to hell, where filth like you belong.”

  Acheron batted the orbs away with one hand, as he looked at the now dormant metal bands on his wrists. The sigils had stopped glowing. Our bond was broken.

  Acheron was truly free.

  “I was feared in hell,” Acheron said with a smile, as he ran a finger under the metal bands around his wrists and popped them off with ease. “Something about even evil having limits and my surpassing them.”

  Quinton formed more orbs as Acheron approached.

  “Keep back, demon,” Quinton said. “I’ll burn you where you stand.”

  “Burn me?” Acheron asked, his voice dark and lethal. “What do you know of burning? I’m a denizen of hell, human. Burning is an art form where I’m from.”

  “We trapped you once, we can do it again,” Quinton said. “The OSA is sending reinforcements.”

  I almost felt sorry for Quinton in that moment. He was dead…his brain just hadn’t gotten the memo yet. I chalked up the brief moment of pity to the loss of blood from my self-inflicted wound.

  “It took them centuries,” Acheron continued. “They imprisoned me in a circle not unlike the one used here. Now, tell me, you didn’t draw this circle, did you?”

  “What does it matter?” Quinton answered, surrounding himself in black energy. “We will trap you again.”

  “I’ll take that as a no,” Acheron replied. “Who drew the circle?”

  “Fuck you,” Quinton hissed as he backed away. “You’re weak, nothing but a pathetic demon. You think I’m going to tell you anything?”

  “I was tortured and broken, but in the end, they failed and died screaming,” Acheron said as he formed a large, orange orb of demonflame and closed in on Quinton. “I killed them, but I was still trapped. Just when I thought I would rot in captivity”—he glanced in my direction—“a clueless sorcerer summoned me, liberating me from my prison.”

  “They should have destroyed you,” Quinton spat as he created more orbs of energy. “I would have destroyed you.”

  “They tried,” Acheron answered with another smile that froze my blood. “They failed.”

  “They may have failed,” Quinton said. “But tonight, I won’t. Tonight, you die.”

  “It’s possible, considering my state and the horde of demons you foolishly unleashed,” Acheron said with a nod. “I may die, but not before you.”

  Acheron released the orb of demonflame.

  TWELVE

  To give Quinton some credit, he didn’t immediately shit his pants.

  I’d say it was close, but his sense of self-preservation must have kicked in and overwritten the sheer terror that was filling the room as the orb of demonflame raced at him.

  He tried to deflect it with an orb of his own. It was like trying to divert a wrecking ball with an egg. Acheron’s orb swallowed Quinton’s weak attempt at defense and crashed into Quinton, setting his arm aflame.

  My senses rebelled at the acrid stench of demonflame in the air. The odor of rotten eggs was soon joined by the smell of burning flesh.

  Quinton’s burning flesh.

  He started screaming as he reflexively tried to put out the flames by smothering them with his other hand. All he managed to do was set his hand on fire. He was in full-on panic mode and dropped to the floor. It was actually smart, but it didn’t help. Apparently, Acheron had access to some insane variant of demonflame.

  Nothing seemed to put it out.

  Normal demonflame was similar to napalm on steroids. It burned through everything, taking real effort to put out if
the blaze was large enough. Whatever Acheron was wielding was worse…so much worse.

  “Stop it, Acheron,” I said from across the room. “He deserves to die, but not like this.”

  Acheron made a fist and the flames went out. Quinton was moaning and writhing in pain as Acheron stepped close. He crouched down and slowly pushed the glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

  “It burns…doesn’t it?” Acheron asked. “Tell me who drew the circle, and I’ll give you the death you deserve.”

  I slowly got to my feet and nearly toppled over. I had lost too much blood. I looked down at the still-open wound on my arm, in awe. Why hadn’t it closed? I didn’t have super-healing like a demon did, but none of my wounds remained open this long. I pressed my free hand over the wound and wobbled my way over to Acheron.

  “Who drew the circle, Quinton?” I managed when I stood over his freshly-barbecued body. “Tell me. We know it wasn’t you.”

  “Fuh…fuh—” Quinton stammered.

  “Save it,” I said, feeling slightly woozy. “I’m not going to let Acheron kill you. Do you know why?”

  “You’re not?” Acheron asked. “I think it’s only proper, based on principle alone—not to mention my treatment under his supervision.”

  “I think Quinton here wants to do the right thing,” I said, keeping my tone even. “He knows he fucked up. No one is going to rend a demon at sunrise. That means someone else is going to be pissed. Someone powerful, someone Quinton reports to in the Night Division.”

  Quinton’s eyes opened wide.

  “Kill…kill me,” Quinton rasped through the pain. “Make it quick, please.”

  “Who drew the circle?” I asked, my voice harder this time. “Tell me and I’ll consider it.”

  “Sigil…sigilsmith.”

  “Sigilsmith? Rodrigo?” I asked, not believing the words. “Are you shitting me?”

  “It tracks,” Acheron said. “He dislikes you, and is certainly no fan of demons. Two birds, one stone…one recovered artifact. It’s neat and efficient.”

  I whirled on Acheron, and instantly regretted it as the room kept spinning. Acheron grabbed me by the arm to keep me from losing my balance.

  “He’s part of the Seven,” I answered, keeping my voice low. “How did he know we were in the labyrinth?”

  “The…the sigils,” Quinton volunteered from the floor. “The ones in the labyrinth. He designed them.”

  “This presents more questions than answers,” Acheron said, forming another orb of demonflame. He looked at me before glancing at Quinton below us. “Answers I doubt he has.”

  “Shit, Rodrigo? This means Vic must know something.”

  “Or Rodrigo is acting on his own,” Acheron said. “In either case, this sorcerer has divulged what he knows. Shall I end him?”

  “You promised to make it quick,” Quinton said with a gasp. Fear danced in his eyes at the sight of the demonflame. “That’s not quick. That’s torture.”

  “No, I said I’ll consider it,” I said, looking down at Quinton. “You summoned four demons to destroy me. You were going to rend my friend, one of the only ones I have. You deserve to die in agony, but that’s not who I am. I’m—”

  “A sad, pathetic Otherkin bitch,” Quinton answered. “You have no idea what’s happening, no idea what’s coming for you.”

  I was about to answer when I felt a surge of energy behind me.

  “Darkin,” a voice said behind me, “you were warned.”

  It was the Majoras.

  THIRTEEN

  I turned slowly.

  The Majoras had entered the room. Behind it, one on each side, were two more Majoras. Behind them, assembled in ranks of ten, were thirty Minoras.

  All of them looked eager to get their shred on.

  “This is not good,” I said under my breath. “Seems like it’s time to get to the dying.”

  “Wait,” Acheron said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Allow me.”

  Acheron gave me a glance and subtly waved me back.

  I stepped back and let Acheron move in between me and the Majoras.

  “Balorous,” Acheron said, looking at the Majoras. “What are you doing here?”

  “Acheron?” Balorous said, surprised. “Since when do you roam this plane?”

  “It’s been some time. What business do you have with the Darkin?”

  “The word has been given and received,” Balorous answered, with a growl. “When we next met only one could remain standing. This was agreed upon earlier, before I searched out my brethren. I left one of my own to warn her of my return. She has chosen to remain, therefore we must see who lives and who dies this night.”

  “One moment,” Acheron said, raising a finger and pulling me aside. “Did you say you would fight him to the death?”

  “It’s a little more complicated than that,” I explained. “I thought he was a Minoras at the time, then he shook his body and poofed, expanded into that thing.”—I pointed at Balorous—“how was I supposed to know he was a Majoras?”

  Acheron pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a second. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “Let me handle this,” he said under his breath. “Can I count on you to remain silent for thirty seconds?”

  “Thirty whole seconds?”

  Acheron glared at me.

  “Sure, thirty seconds, I can definitely do that.”

  “No matter what I say, do not under any circumstances respond to him. Is that clear?”

  I nodded.

  “Good,” Acheron said, and turned back to Balorous and his crew of imminent demon death. “This is a waste of your time, Balorous.”

  “The word has been given and received, Acheron. You know our ways.”

  “But she does not,” Acheron glanced back at me. “You would lower yourself to battle such a weakling? This is beneath you. Have you sunk so low?”

  The demons around Balorous growled in response.

  “What do you propose?” Balorous answered, raking a claw across the floor. “Will you stand in her stead?”

  “As I see it, you could tarnish your standing here among your glorious brethren by”—he glanced at me again—“engaging this pathetic being.”

  “That was our word,” Balorous said, but he sounded uncertain. “As agreed upon.”

  Acheron paused and transformed back into scary Demon Lord form, complete with bodyflames and a voice that would make James Earl Jones sound like a squeaky teenager in the middle of puberty.

  “Allow me to counter with…facing your end at my hands,” Acheron’s voice boomed across the room. “I promise you it will be glorious, but it will be final. However, there is one more alternative.”

  All of the demons took several steps back. I didn’t blame them. The demonflames around Acheron crackled orange and black. The only demon that held his ground was Balorous.

  “State your alternative,” Balorous said.

  “Give her time to become a worthy opponent for a demon of your stature,” Acheron replied. “When she is ready, I will convene an assembly, and we will see who remains standing. What say you?”

  Balorous glared at me and then looked back at Acheron. He shook his body, making the scales covering it give off a metallic chime, before unleashing an ear-splitting roar. All of the demons behind Balorous bowed on their forelegs. The other two Majoras raked the ground throwing up sparks, and joined in on the roar.

  I don’t know how I managed to remain standing in the face of that contained fury, but I did. Acheron glanced at me and nodded.

  “The word has been given and received,” Balorous said, once the roar died down. “When she is worthy, the Darkin will face me in combat”—it padded over to where I stood—“then we will see who lives and who dies.”

  “More of his kind are arriving,” Acheron said, pointing to Quinton, who probably had hoped we had forgotten him by this point. “He is the one who was used to open the gate.”

  Balorous loo
ked over to Quinton and gave a low rumble. Quinton answered with a moan, and tried to crawl away. One of the other Majoras padded over quietly and blocked his way with a growl.

  “Leave this place,” Balorous said. “We will deal with him and his kind. Tonight, this will be a place of death and blood. You have no seat at this table.”

  “Understood,” Acheron said with a nod, as he grabbed my arm. “May you feast long and deep.”

  “May your flame ever burn,” Balorous answered, returning the nod. “We will remember, Darkin.”

  We stepped out of the room to Quinton’s screams as one of the demons ended his pathetic life. Acheron transformed back into his normal form and picked up the pace until we were doing a slow jog.

  “Are we late for something?” I asked as he picked up the pace. “You have somewhere to be I don’t know about?”

  “Anywhere but here,” Acheron answered, taking the turns quickly. “Thirty-three demons, Nyx. We would have been dead in seconds.”

  “I thought you offered him a glorious death at your hands?” I said, barely keeping up as we spilled out into the street. It was still several hours before sunrise. I saw the headlights of several vehicles approaching. “This way.”

  We ran back to Eight, undetected. I unlocked her and we jumped in, catching our breath.

  “That was close,” Acheron said. “We almost didn’t make it.”

  “Are you telling me you were bluffing?”

  “Of course,” Acheron answered. “I may be a Demon Lord and could, with difficulty—great difficulty mind you— dispatch one of the Majoras, but three of them? Impossible. Not to mention the thirty Minoras who would lose their collective minds and tear us apart. No, a direct confrontation would have been suicide.”

  “You are one insane demon,” I said after my heart calmed down. “The bond—I’m sorry I had to break it. You’re free now. I’ll understand if you want to go.”

  He showed me the wound on his arm. It had healed completely. I looked down at my arm and realized my wound was gone as well.