“Hey, it isn’t every day a guy gets to fight a dragon. Forgive me for being a little excited.”
Eliza snorted as she slashed through a hellspawn that tried to come up behind him. “It’s not as much fun once it starts breathing fire in your face,” she said.
Calder flashed her a grin. “I’m fast. I’d manage.”
“You’re cocky,” she shot back, driving her boot into another demon’s sternum and finishing it with a clean upward stroke. “That’s not the same thing.”
I chuckled even as we pushed back through the gate. The battlefield outside had devolved into full chaos. I skidded to a stop and stared at the unfolding scene. Ezrion and Miriel were still alive, but they weren’t looking their best. Neither were Calyx or Rathiel, for that matter.
Blood slicked the ground, saturating the dirt in dark puddles. Rathiel stood in the middle of it, wings lifted high and the lines of his body as sharp as the blade he swung. Every twitch of his hands pulled more blood into the air, streaming the liquid and shaping it into countless blades that surrounded him as he waited for his moment.
Except, every blood blade he flung at Ezrion sizzled out of existence the second it met his hellfire. Ezrion flung flame after flame, the heat so fierce the air practically shimmered from it. Rathiel did his best to avoid the blaze, but the tips of his wings were burnt, his armour blackened, his skin covered in soot.
Above, Calyx shot through the air, his wings cutting through the thick, smoky air. Shadows took shape around him, but they were different than mine. His were nightmares brought to life—likely plucked right from Miriel’s mind. The shadow creatures circled her, their teeth bared and claws shimmering in the hellish light. They surged toward her, surrounding her and attacking every opening they could find while Calyx dove with his sword in hand.
Miriel screamed as she batted at the specters, then shot out a hand and expelled a fog that Iknewwould be thick with pestilence. A creeping, black-green slickness spread over the ground, eating anything it touched. A few of my hellspawn went down screaming, skin splitting under the corruption’s touch.
“Fall back and hold the line!” Eliza shouted to the others before I could. Her voice cut through the roar of battle as she drew up beside me, her gaze tracking the fallen angel battle. “Shit. He’s getting roasted out there.”
“I know,” I said. “I’ll help them. You help the others.”
She jerked a nod. “We’ll keep them off you.” She didn’t wait for my reply, already turning to rally the others. Calder fell in at her side, blade flashing. Varz spun away into the melee, and Gorr’s bellow shook the ground as he tore through the ranks. They carved a bloody path outward, buying me space, buying me time.
Rathiel lifted his hands, palms up, and summoned the pool of blood surrounding him. Then he flung his hands outward, and I watched as a wave swept over the land and drowned the pestilence. Another pull of his fist and more blood drained from the hellspawn that had just fallen. He flicked a finger, and the crimson liquid coiled into a weapon longer than Rathiel was tall.
His gaze briefly darted to mine.
I didn’t hesitate. I just nodded—I already knew what he needed.
Rathiel shot the blood spear forward, aiming for Ezrion.
The bastard sidestepped, his mouth twisting into a smug grin, then flung another wall of hellfire between them. With a single thought, I snuffed out the flames. They popped and died right on the spot. And the spear…
Cut clean through Ezrion’s throat. His eyes widened, and he clawed at the weapon. But before Ezrion could do anything, Rathiel yanked the spear out of his throat, reshaped it into ascythe, and cut clear through flesh and bone. Ezrion’s head hit the dirt with a wet thud, rolling once before it stilled.
Miriel saw him fall.
The scream she unleashed was not of grief but rage. It was raw, throat-shredding, and the kind of scream that told me she would stop at nothing to slaughter us. She snapped her wings wide, and shot both hands toward me, pestilence bleeding off her skin in rolling clouds.
The sickness came for me, curling over the many corpses in its path. Where it touched flesh—dead or otherwise—the meat split open like overripe fruit.
Rathiel and I moved simultaneously. Him, armed with ropes of solidified blood that snaked around her wrists and snapped them together. Me, with my shadows, which lashed around her wings, pinning them flat against her back. Rathiel waved a hand around the puddle of blood still glistening at his feet, and shaped it into a crown of sharp spikes, jutting upward out of the ground.
Miriel’s eyes met mine, defiant even now. Something cold and eager lit within me. Ending her wasn’t a duty—it was a pleasure. I didn’t hesitate. I gave another sharp pull and my shadow tendrils obeyed, slamming her down right onto Rathiel’s bed of spikes. The tips punched through her back and out her torso, piercing her heart.
That quickly, she was nothing more than another broken thing on the ground. Miriel gasped her last breath, then fell deathly still, blood trickling from her lips.
I called my shadows back and turned to face the rest of the outpost’s army as my people tore through them. Lucifer’s soldiers fell apart the moment they noticed their leaders had died, their ranks collapsing. My army surged forward, finishing what we started. I didn’t join them, even though I wanted to. The urge to keep killing burned within me until, finally, the last scream fell silent.
Then I turned back to Rathiel. “Two down.”
“One to go,” he finished.
Gavrel still lived, but not for long. My power ached to end him. He would die before I faced Lucifer. That much I could promise.
Chapter Sixteen
LILY
