Chapter Thirty-six
Martinstalkedthesector,sword at the ready, controlling his breathing to focus on hearing the night. His skin prickled more the closer his quarry drew. Something seemed different tonight, twisting his insides into knots.
“You feel it too?” Dmitri asked.
“What is it?” Martin rubbed his hand over his sword arm. The hairs on the back of his neck stood.
“I’m not sure. But it’s wrong.”
The night they’d faced two warrior demons flashed through Martin’s mind. Were another two stalking them? Had the hunters become the hunted?
A hunter’s whistle sounded to the west. Martin stopped, turning toward the blast. Another came from the east. Two different sightings at separate sides of the lower city?
Together, he and Dmitri bounded eastward toward the closest alarm. They cut down an alley and stopped. Two sets of purple eyes stared out of the darkness. Scales slithered over stone, punctuated by a low, rumbling chuckle. “Well, well, well, what have we here?” The thing came closer into the glow of Martin’s ball of mage fire.
A hideous thing, with sharp claws and teeth, glowing eyes, and ears like a bat’s wings. They flapped slowly, then settled against the demon’s head. The thing stood taller than Dmitri even, taller than any demon of Martin’s experience.
Its smaller companion slipped out of the shadows. “Ah, I smell a hunter. Tell me, betrayer, how does it feel to hunt those you abandoned? Does your friend here know what you look like under those robes or who you really are?”
“He knows as much as he needs to.” Dmitri’s voice came out controlled.
The beast snickered, turning to face Martin. “He never told you why he gave up his realm to live among lesser beings. How he was banished after he betrayed—”
“Enough!” Dmitri’s booming voice made the alleyway tremble. Really? Dmitri raising his voice? What sorcery was this? He raised his sword. “I’ll send you back from whence you came.”
“And why would you waste your time? The runes have fallen, didn’t you know? Tonight, my brethren overrun the streets, hunting down the precious weak beings you’d try to save.”
Martin’s breath caught in his throat. Peter! He glanced in the direction of the tavern. Dmitri’s hand on his arm stopped a mad dash. “Let us finish here first. Others patrol that quadrant.”
“Not for long.” The first demon let out a laugh. “You’ve lost. You know, you should have told the denizens of this realm about us ages ago. Maybe then they’d know to run when we approached.” He smacked his lips. “They’re so much better when they run.”
A scream split the night. Martin bunched, ready for flight. Dmitri held him in place. “Do you think you’d get three paces before these two cut you down?”
Right.
Twin grins flash at him. “If you dare.” The taller one charged.
Martin whirled, putting himself back-to-back with Dmitri. The muscles of the priest’s back and thighs flexed, betraying his intent. The cassock hid those unspoken tells from their adversaries.
The first demon flicked out a forked tongue, tasting the air, and grinned wider at Martin. “Oh, the sweet scent of magic. It fills you, not like the paltry bits I feed on from others of your kind. You’d make a fine meal if my master allows. Maybe once he’s finished with you, he’ll reward me with what’s left over.”
The shrieks from the city grew louder now. Martin shut down the mental images the screams produced. Fear beat against his senses, a palpable thing.
No. Nothing but his opponent could hold his attention now.
He took the first step in the dance. Right foot, sword back. Left foot, swing.Parry. Thrust. Spin.Demons might look different, but their muscles moved more or less like a man’s. Bunching in the right thigh meant weight on that foot, and vulnerability.
Martin slashed, backing up occasionally to bump against Dmitri’s reassuring presence. If only Martin could call the consuming fire down at will like he’d done once before—the night he’d saved Peter.
The demon slashed out with razor claws. Martin jumped back. Claws raked the leather over his chest. He swung his blade with all his might.Slash!Dark liquid spurted from the thing’s arm. It howled, a hideous, bloodcurdling sound.
No more wasting time! Martin needed to check on Peter!Slash. Whirl. Thrust. Spin. Purple fire burned in the demon’s eyes. Step by step, it kept pace. Another scream. Was that Peter? Oh, goddess. What if Peter needed him?
Martin snatched the knife from his boot. Throwing away the dance steps he’d learned to use for fighting, he charged, like he would have a wounded deer back home when he hadn’t owned a sword. Steel bit flesh. The thing howled again. Blood spurted. The knife grew slippery, but still, Martin fought. Blindly. On pure instinct. Visualizing where the knife should go, then trusting the blade to its duty.
“Martin. Martin!” Something grabbed his shoulders from behind. He brought the blade up. Dmitri grabbed Martin’s wrist in a near-painful grasp. “Martin. It’s dead.”
Martin stared down at the bloodied heap at his feet. Another lay a few feet away, missing its head. He conjured, flinging blue fire onto the mangled body while Dmitri chanted. The remains went up in a sizzle. Martin swore he heard one final shriek before the body vanished.
