I had felt that pain before, once, when I was thirteen, in the underworld, when an enchanted blade had carved the marks that still ran down my back.
This was the same kind of blade.
Whatever scar this opened, if I survived it, would not heal.
Nausea burned in my throat, and I wanted to throw up, but my body was locked up in this agony. I couldn’t do anything else besides feel the grip of the pain.
"Let him go!" Diablos's voice broke through the haze of pain.
"I don't think so," the Starborn chuckled darkly. "Think I'll tremble because you wield the Archer's arrow?"
The Archer? Confusion mingled with panic. I couldn't move, couldn't protect Di from him.
"You should. Last warning," Di growled dangerously. "Let. Him. Go."
"How does it feel having that power at your fingertips?" the demon mocked. Blood filled my mouth and I choked on it as hisgrip tightened mercilessly. "Answer, or I'll snap his neck, and then ensure his permanent death."
"It feels amazing," Di spat viciously. "Even Lucifer himself welcomed me to his side."
Lucifer? My mind reeled. What had happened?
The demon behind me froze momentarily, then unleashed a chilling laugh, cold and maniacal.
"Enjoy your delusion, pathetic human."
"I'm no longer just a human."
"You'll always be human. Fragile, breakable, worthless. Your new identity is a farce. You'll never truly be one of us."
"Done with your lecture?" Di sneered.
A low, dangerous growl rumbled through the demon's chest. "We'll meet again. Consider this mercy your welcome gift to Hell. Next time, I'll savor killing you and this sorry excuse of a Starborn."
Abruptly, he released his hold. I plummeted, the ground rushing up to meet me, and my vision darkening.
Through the dark closing in at the edges of my vision, I saw him.
Diablos. My Diablos. Standing in the middle of a crimson battlefield with the bow raised in one hand. Blood on his shirt. The boy who twisted his ring six times to keep me alive was holding a weapon Lucifer himself had made. And he was looking at me. He had seen me fall.
He was coming.
I had never been more afraid for him. I had never loved him more.
A piercing scream echoed around me. My last coherent thought was of Diablos. What would happen to him now?
Chapter thirty-seven
Diablos
“Dagon!” I screamed, running toward him.
The sound of his name came out broken, raw in a way I've never heard my own voice sound.
He collapsed to the ground, a raw cry tearing from his throat. That agonizing sound sent terror slicing through my veins. I fell on my knees beside his limp body, my shaking hands reaching desperately for him.
My hands didn't know where to go first. His chest. His throat. His face. His hair. They moved on their own, searching for the part of him that was still warm, and I couldn't find it. He was cold. My Dagon. My demon. Cold.
Was he breathing?
