“Been there, done that,” Rynna muttered into the cup. “And it didn’t turn out well for either of us.”
She groaned, lowering her head to rest on top of her stacked hands on the table. Promising to stay and protect that asshole had been a mistake. Not killing him herself might be the greatest challenge she’d ever faced.
No one bothered her as she chipped away at another jug of wine over the next two bells, and time blurred until the steady drum of work in the kitchen broke through—soft clatter, low voices, the dullwumpof a cleaver.
The scent of roasting meat and herbs sifted out from behind the bar, drawing a soft growl from her stomach. So ordinary and human, it was almost comforting. But before she could raise her hand for an early plate, a cry tore through the air, cutting straight through her skull.
Recoiling, her wine sloshed over the cup’s rim, spilling onto the table. Then came the crack of splintering wood, and something heavy giving way under force. Maybe a door or a stall breaking apart.
“Fuuuck.” Rynna tried to ignore it.Not my business.
The scream came again, sharper this time. Then the crack of flesh striking flesh, and a woman’s cry.
Rynna’s hand stopped halfway to her cup.
“Damn it,” she exhaled, just as Malachi barreled through the tavern door.
He wore fresh bruises: a swollen welt and a blackening eye, and in his arms, he cradled a tiny, limp form. Her eyes widened, and both the alcohol and indifference drained out of her in an instant as she flew to her feet.
“Rynna! There’s a demon out there.” Malachi set the small girl down on a table. “He wants Josh and is killing everyone he sees to get him. You have to help them!”
The girl was caked in mud and blood. And over her chest ran a deep, jagged gash.
“Is she…” Rynna studied the child, unable to finish the sentence.
Then she saw it—the faint rise beneath wrecked fabric.
“Oh no. No, no.” The tavern owner ran forward, one hand clapped over her mouth. “It’s little Jessica.”
“She’s alive.” Rynna grabbed a fistful of her own tunic and ripped it into strips.
“Hold this to her chest. Hard. Don’t let up. Not for anything.” She shoved the makeshift bandages into the other woman’s trembling grip.
Then she turned, moving fast to where her knife still jutted from the table and yanked it free without pause. Behind her, Malachi fell in without a word, hand on her shoulder.
“Be careful, Rynna.” He hesitated as she pushed open the door. “This one…” She heard the blood rushing in his veins. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I’ll be fine.” Sunlight punched into her eyes the moment they stepped outside, forcing her to squint against the glare. “Get somewhere safe. And keep people out of my way.”
As the door swung shut behind her, Rynna looked back, the tavern’s lantern light spilling out one last time before the hinges caught. Inside, the tavern owner hovered over the girl, clutching blood-soaked rags in shaking hands. Tears streaked down the woman’s face as she pressed harder, begging the girl to open her eyes.
The door closed with a soft snick. The light vanished, and anger burned beneath Rynna’s skin, flaring up her neck.
“Go!” She shoved Malachi in the shoulder, the golden sword already in hand as she stalked into the street.
Ahead, something massive moved through the wreckage of a broken wagon. She saw broad shoulders and skin stretched too tight over thick muscle, at least twice her size. And in its taloned hand, it hoisted a man by the throat.
“Prophet! Where are you hiding?” The beast roared in every direction. “Come out and face me!”
Then, with a flick of thumb and forefinger, it broke the man’s neck and released the body to crumble to the ground with a dull, wet thud.
Townspeople scattered, tripping over one another trying to get away. Shouts broke through the air as parents yanked children stumbling in tow, dragging them clear of its path. A boy fell hard in front of her—small, limbs flailing for balance. Rynna sidestepped, grabbed the back of the boy’s shirt, and hauled him upright before shoving him toward a woman barreling past, eyes wide with terror.
“This town is under my protection.” Rynna planted herself square in the creature’s path, golden blade raised. “The Prophet has better things to do than waste time on you.”
The demon paused mid-step, head cocked as if finally realizing she wasn’t running like the others.
“Little girl.” Its gaze scrabbled over her. “Do you think your god will protect you? That he’ll grant you the strength to banish me?”
