Unlike many of the single demons he fought, these two were bold, fearless.
Toying with him.
“Dmitri, why aren’t they retreating?” he asked.
“The demons before were testing our strength. Scouts. These are warriors.”
Warrior demons?
The two scaly things fought as a team, circling, seeking an opening. Martin held his sword aloft, as did Dmitri. A few softly spoken words and green flames engulfed the priest’s blade, lighting the alleyway. Illuminating a scene Martin couldn’t unsee. One moment’s concentration and golden flames enveloped Martin’s blade. Which didn’t make the scene less terrifying.
Two macabre grins on faces bearing little resemblance to people or even other demons he’d met. He’d never seen their like before.
“You can fight, but you’ll not win,” one taunted. “Kill us. More will come. They won’t stop coming until the master ends the hunt.” It grinned wide. “And he’ll never end the hunt. Not until he has what he wants.”
The thing leaped. Martin cried out, blocking talons with his sword. He brought the hilt down hard enough to concuss a man. This opponent was no man.
The demon snarled, kicking out at Martin’s feet. Martin jumped, barely missing the blow. Behind him, a blade clanged. Against stone? Or against rocklike skin?
With no time to spare for Father Dmitri, Martin parried. The demon moved lightning-fast, its motions a blur. Martin dared not take his eyes away or swipe at the sweat on his brow. All his attention focused on the matter at hand.
Nothing in his demon hunting lessons had prepared him for this. He brought his sword down with all his might on the thing’s head. Shockwaves traveled up his arms. Impervious skin? None of the demons he’d beheaded possessed such skin.
“Aim for the throat!” Dmitri shouted.
Martin shifted away, using the priest’s instruction to turn dance moves into battle tactics. Whirling kept him a moving target, and a quick sidestep put him out of claws’ reach. A monstrous mouth gaped, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth.
Then the fight was upon him again.Hack. Slash. Whirl. Thrust. Parry. Roll.Everything came down to this moment, this fight.
Martin’s limbs grew heavy, and his steps slowed. The fire on his blade sputtered out of existence. A misstep in the sudden darkness nearly sent him tumbling. “Father!” he shouted. No more. He could handle no more.
From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a flaming sword.
Fire.
But he couldn’t spare the concentration. Even with all his might, he only managed a weak flame.
Closer and closer, the demon came. Martin’s back hit a wall. Trapped. The thing showed its teeth. “My master will be so pleased.” It stepped forward, taloned hands outstretched.
An image flashed through Martin’s mind: Peter, pressed against the wall.
Peter. He must fight for Peter.
Fiery rage swept Martin into a typhoon. This creature would not rob him of his lover. No! Rolling his anger into a ball, he summoned energy to his fingers.
Flames erupted from his fingertips, engulfing the demon in golden light.
Martin collapsed.
Chapter Thirty-one
“Areyouinjured?”Dmitrisidestepped his own kill in his rush to Martin’s side.
Was he? The long scratches on Martin’s arm hurt, exhaustion dragged him down, but he hadn’t lost enough blood to be lightheaded. “Not really. Are you?”
Dmitri shook his head. Ichor smeared his cassock—blood from the demon.
Good. “I have to check—”
