The back door burst open before he got there. “Run!” he cried, snatching a carving knife from under the bar. He swiped at the first monster. How had the thing gotten past the runes?
The green-scaled thing grinned. “Ahh… the little man wants to play.”
Where were Martin and the priests? Hadn’t they said only one or two of these things ever entered the city and were soon after killed by the hunters? Four others peered around the first, hissing, reaching around the leader, and grasping for Peter.
“He smells good!” one shouted.
Peter stepped back, gripping the knife. He’d barely escaped one of these things. Five? Never. Chairs scraped across the floor behind him, the screams lessening as, hopefully, the patrons fled the building.
Footsteps grew close. Peter spared a glance over his shoulder. No! “Addie, run!”
She shook her head, a fillet knife in each hand. “Da taught me never to run from anything. By the Father, I don’t know what these things are, but you’re not facing them alone.”
Peter’s heart pounded a frantic beat. “You see them?”
“Aye, but by the Father himself, I wish I couldn’t.” Addie had magic, so could see them. Though, based on his customers’ screaming, at least a few of them now could too.
“Kill the female if you want, but not the male,” the leader ordered. “The master wants him alive. For now.” The thing grinned, possibly the most unpleasant sight ever to exist.
Including sea battles.
But kill Addie over Peter’s dead body. The things held no weapons—they needed none. Teeth and claws appeared dagger-sharp. They’d not lure him out into the alley, where his sight would fail, and possibly theirs would not. He took two steps back. If they followed him, Addie still might get away.
He’d never forgive himself if she died in this battle.
His time as a cabin boy on a pirate ship taught him a little about knife fights, enough to avoid them at all costs. Sooner or later, though, the gentlest of men were put to the test.
Peter rocked on the balls of his feet, knees loose, remembering lessons taught by pirates. One of the things grabbed at him. He swiped the knife down. Greenish blood spurted. The creature shrieked. Two more took its place. So, their leader intended to let others do his fighting for him, and their skin wasn’t nearly as hard as the last one he’d encountered.
Or the leader merely waited for the others to tire Peter to step in and claim its prize.
Whoever or whatever their thrice-cursed master was, Peter wished him dead. Screaming persisted in the streets. Peter couldn’t spare thoughts for those poor souls now. He had his own battle to fight, and if by some miracle he and Addie prevailed, five fewer horrors would stalk the streets this eve.
Where were the priests?
Peter grabbed a bottle so vile he dared not serve the gin and threw it at the leader. The bottle plinked against its head and smashed on the flagstones.
Addie hurled a lantern. The oil and gin burst into flames. The thing screeched, dancing in the blaze, then grinned. “Fire can’t hurt me.”
Without knowing why, Peter thrust out his hand. A ball of yellow flame shot toward the monster. For one brief moment, the thing stood immobile, engulfed in yellow light. The being exploded, green gore splashing the walls, the floor, Peter, and Addie. The other four demons shared a glance.
The second took the first’s place. “You are untrained, mage. Your wild magic will do you more harm than good.”
Peter tried again to hurl flame. Nothing happened. “Addie, run!” he screamed, grabbing the fire poker and brandishing the iron like a sword.
Something flew by his head.
“Ah-ha!” Addie shouted in triumph. A dagger protruded from the second demon’s eye. It blinked its undamaged eye at them, face slack, then fell backward, knocking down another monster.
Two. They’d taken out two. Three more to go.
Peter peered around the trio.
Four more pairs of eyes gleamed in the darkness.
“Martin, I love you,” he said, not caring who—or what—heard. “Addie, as your employer and your friend, I order you to go.” Without waiting for an answer, he said a prayer to the Father. “Father, please keep the innocent safe, and accept my soul if my time has come.”
He’d go down fighting.
