I thought my angel of a mother was the destructive one, theevilone. But maybe, like Azazel says, no one is ever innately good or innately evil. We just have to aim to do the right thing as best as we can. Even if the right thing comes with fuck-up after fuck-up.
And maybe…maybethe angel side of me has been inside me all this time. Maybe as destructive as the hellish side of me has always been.
The dampness in my eyes clings to my lashes, and I step toward her without thought. My hand reaches for ephemeral ones. I expect to only feel cold nothingness.
But I swear she takes my hand in hers. I swear I feel her skin against mine for a single fraction of a second.
Overwhelming power surges through the brief feel of her fingers against mine. It slams into me with unrelenting force. It lights up like a blaze of heavenly fire.
And then the force of it throws me back so hard that I fly through the long vines. I soar past them. I fall back into dry leaves and a chaos of noise.
I land in the familiar academy forest, covered in melting snow.
With more hellacious heavenly power than the world has ever known.
Twenty-One
Malek
My paws feel like they have broken and healed over and over again, though the pain is something that’s far from my mind. Even with the arrival of the vampires from the citadel, the power of the demons is too much.
We’re pushed back until we’re nothing more than a crowd surrounding the headmistress’s statue. The holy water is gone, our magic is slacking, and even I lose my ability to shift.
My body turns back into the form of a man, and I’m too withered with exhaustion to even attempt the change anymore. A part of me wants to just lie down on the earth and fall into a deep sleep. The other part, the snarling wolf that still pants inside my soul, demands I get up. Get the fuck up and protect what’s mine.
Soon, even that voice quiets down, until there’s nothing but the snarls of beasts and the zapping, burning stench of magic and sulfur, with the taste of utter failure in the air.
Strong hands grip my shoulders and yank me up. I don’t turn, but Saint’s voice is breathless in my ear. “Get up, buddy.” He pats along my back and for once, the gesture isn’t meant for discomfort or meaningless flirtation. He slings one of my arms around his shoulders and holds me upright. “I got you, Blues Clues.”
“Fuck… you…” My voice is hoarse from all the growls and snarls, and my mouth tastes bitter with the leftover traces of demon blood. It makes me want to gag.
“That’s the spirit.” He winks. “But we can do that after we win this war.”
Even he sounds uncertain, and I know he’s saying it to convince himself as much as me that we have a chance of winning when I know we don’t. We’re backed into a corner, protecting the statue from falling with everything we have. There are so many, and I just…
I don’t know if I can hold on anymore.
Syko appears on my other side and throws my other arm around his shoulder so they’re both holding me upright. This feels like a connection, one we’ve forged over the years in the hallways of the academy that kept us as prisoners. Our bond tightened thanks to Izara, and I know somehow the memory of it will live on.
Even if we don’t.
My nails sink into their shoulders, and my legs are shaking. They are my pack. They are my greatest strength and my greatest weakness. And even if we aren’t complete, there’s nowhere I’d rather be than here.
The demons suddenly part down the middle like the red sea, making room for one figure to walk down between the line of them.
He’s as put together as I’ve ever seen him, in an all-dark suit hugging his body and smoke emanating from the crown perched on top of his head. Black wings that are so like Izara’s, but with red veins instead of gold, span from his back.
He tugs at the sleeves of his suit like he’s a businessman come to fuck over his enemies. I don’t doubt that he can with a single piercing look.
Even looking at the devil that is Professor Shade, I do not fear him. Instead, I’m filled with my own burning sense of hatred for all he did and all he’s still doing. I trusted him, believed in him, and he manipulated us as much as he did Izara. He pretended he cared, and at the first opportunity he ripped hell into our world to end us all.
“God, I hate Slim Shady,” Saint curses.
I want to echo my agreement, but the devil himself flicks his gaze around to us. It’s commanding on its own and causes a hush to fall over everything and everyone.
“You’ve protected the statues valiantly.” His voice booms across the space, amplified by burning hell magic. “I admire you for it, but the time has come for this to end. Move aside and let me destroy the statue of the ruler you all so misguidedly follow and let the world be born anew.”
A roaring sound fills my ears that’s built entirely of rage. Those around me shift uncomfortably, and I want to turn and snap at them not to give in to his seductive allure. I can’t find the energy to do it though.
