As he came to Treycore's room, he noticed the door was already cracked open.
Fuck.
He pushed against it. A sword rushed through the crack. Kinzer threw his before him and…
CRASH!
He blocked the oncoming attack.
The door flew open, revealing an equally naked Treycore. His vein-ridden flesh bobbed between his knees.
“Fuck,” Kinzer said.
“Did you hear that?” Treycore asked.
“Yeah. Dedrus is taking care of Maggie. I'm about to head downstairs to check it out. Keep outta sight in case I need backup.”
“All over it.”
“And promise me, if anything happens, you'll protect Kid.”
Treycore sighed.
“Just fucking promise me, okay?”
“Okay. I promise. Now get down there and see what's up.”
Treycore shut the door, keeping it cracked open, just as it had been when Kinzer had noticed it. Kinzer started down the stairwell, his eyes scanning the shadow-filled living room.
It was quiet.
As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he scanned the bookshelves, the couch, and the table—trying to see if anything had moved or shifted. Everything appeared to be just as messy as it'd been before they'd gone to bed. He peered down the hall to the front door.
A cool breeze rushed against him. The door swayed back and forth.
Fuck.
“What is this?” a voice came from behind him.
He spun around, slashing his sword through the air to let the intruder know that he meant business.
“Careful where you point that thing,” a dark shadow said as it stepped out from Dedrus’s study into the light from the streetlamp. Kinzer recognized the fallen, and he was less than thrilled to see him.
“Hello, Mika.”
“Kinzer,” Mika said through perfectly arched, m-shaped lips. As he stepped into the living room, his feathers fanned out behind him, moving slightly in the breeze from the front door.
“I'm assuming you didn't come alone,” Kinzer said.
A shadow, far more massive than Mika, stepped out from behind his wings.
The seven-foot-tall fallen's flat face and narrow, snake-like eyes were a familiar and unpleasant sight. His name was Craetis, and his existence reminded Kinzer of how sloppy even the best of the Almighty's creations could be.
“Last I saw you,” Craetis said, “you were begging us to spare your dearest Janka's life.”
His words tossed Kinzer’s thoughts to a few days earlier.
Blood trickled off Janka’s square jaw and streaked through the bushy eyebrows that hung above wide, blue eyes. His pupils roamed back and forth, seemingly without direction. His lips, long and full, trembled.
