Devil's Punch (Corine Solomon #4)

Devil's Punch (Corine Solomon #4) Page 46

At last Chance called, “Corine!”

I limped back the way we’d come. Found nine Hazo corpses in a gruesome pile. To my horror, Greydusk lay on his side, blood leaking out of a terrible wound. Shannon sucked in a sharp breath.

Ignoring my own pain, I knelt beside him. “Let’s get you up.”

“The portal room lies just beyond those doors.…” He gasped, one long fingered-hand flexing with the pain. “I…fear I will not be able to finish this task.”

“Bullshit.” Tears prickled in my eyes, and I dashed them away. “Oh, God, Grey, don’t. You said demons don’t have an afterlife. I can’t—”

“You treated me as a man of honor from the beginning. With you, my queen, I was free. That is worth dying for.”

And then there were three.

My Sweetest Downfall

For long moments, I knelt in guilty silence.

“There were too many. They’re so fucking big. Strong. I’m fast, but with five Hazo trying to eviscerate me, I just couldn’t dodge them all. I got tired. And he threw himself in front of me.”

He didn’t need to tell me why. I knew. Because you’re the queen’s consort.

“He died for you—to please me?” Raw anguish scalded my spirit.

“To save you from pain.”

“I should have told him he wasn’t just my minion or whatever. That he was a friend too.”

Shannon put a hand on my shoulder, and for the first time I noticed that our gifts didn’t spark off each other anymore. We hadn’t touched much since the Hazo gave her back to me, and I couldn’t recall when it started. The sinking in my stomach told me I wasn’t human anymore, but despair had to get in line behind my grief.

“He knew,” she said softly. “Why do you think he stayed with you, fought so hard? Demons aren’t known for their altruism.”

No, they weren’t, and the fact that we’d found such a good soul here, of all places, made me wonder about the stories I’d been told. I didn’t know what was true anymore. I wanted to cry but there was no time.

It didn’t seem right to leave him, but Chance was correct when he said, “I need both hands free to fight.”

“Give me another minute.” Laying my hands on Greydusk’s brow, I whispered to him in thanks and affection. Maybe the Imaron had been right; there was nothing left of demons after they died, but I spoke the words for myself.

Then, with great regret, I picked up my purse—which Greydusk had gone to so much trouble to save for me and checked on Butch; he was terrified but whole—and then slung it over my shoulder. My heart ached as I limped away from Greydusk’s body. His loyalty shouldn’t have meant giving up everything for me, but he wouldn’t want us to die either. I squared my shoulders, pressed the fear down, and led Shannon and Chance toward the final door. Tears stung my eyes; I stepped through, partly blinded by them.

The room was massive, full of imposing statuary in weird, demonic shapes, molded arches, and a fountain in the center. Along each wall to the right and left there were mirrors twice as tall as a man, not made of glass but of hammered silver. Magickal lights hung around the perimeter in ornate sconces, and I noticed four shadows at the far end that didn’t come from the marble statues.

Then the spell hit us.

It tingled in a familiar way, but my bracelet deflected it. Tia’s gift broke into rusted metal shards, falling from my wrist. I recognized the feel of the snare spell and whirled, dashing the tears from my eyes. Oz. From his appearance, times had been hard; his robe was ripped and stained. Unfortunately, he also had a Hazo and a couple of Saremon minions as his honor guard.

We were so fucked.

Need two hands free to fight. As one, we dropped our belongings, but I was careful with my purse.

“Hide,” I ordered the dog.

Chance and Shannon sprinted for the lesser threats. I guessed they reckoned if they could kill the other mages quickly, it would limit the amount of magick flying around. Oz didn’t waste time. He slammed another spell and ice frosted the place where I’d been standing. I wasn’t anymore. I rolled behind a huge statue, stifling a moan at how it aggravated my injuries. If he couldn’t see me, he couldn’t target me.

The Hazo roared. I peered around the stone thigh and saw the enormous demon charge. Chance rolled under the attack and came up with fiery fists to punch the first Saremon. He didn’t need to kill him with one blow. The flames leapt to the mage’s robe, and once the arcane fire started, there was no way in hell the demon could focus enough to cast. He ran, screaming, slapping at the fabric to no avail. Which left three.

Shannon stabbed the second Saremon while Oz aimed another spell at me. I ducked out of sight, racking my brain as to how I could help with a bad leg, one good eye, and little magick left. A shade sprang up behind me and I had to find new cover before the thing touched me and sucked all the life out of me.

I ran out into the chaos of combat; the Hazo chased Shannon, who hadn’t managed to kill the second Saremon. The first lay dead in a smoking pile, and Chance had turned his attention to the second mage. It made sense to deal with the enemies who died most easily, but it showed a cold, menacing side of him that sent shivers through me, even as I appreciated his expertise. The mage, however, took a page from my book and ran like hell away from Chance. Which at least meant he wasn’t lobbing spells.

“Watch out for the shade!” I croaked, but it was enough, loud enough that Chance and Shannon registered the threat.

Then inspiration struck. I dug deep in my memory, fighting past the layers that had belonged to Ninlil and found what was truly my mine—and my mother’s before me. I drew my athame and angled my head; if I was fast, I should be able to get this spell off before the shade reached me. My hands shook as I pulled the weak, thready bits of power remaining to me. They were like magickal cobwebs, clinging to my mind. The slash of darkness radiated cold, sweeping closer and closer as I shaped the spell, spindling the power until it reached sufficient mass.

With a final twirl of my athame, I released and the Hazo went blind. Shannon gave me a grateful nod and I ran from the shade with as much speed as I could muster. Exhaustion hammered at the back of my eyes, burned in my muscles. I don’t see how we can win this. But we’d fight, until there was nothing left.

The enraged warrior demon charged blindly and slammed into a wall. Impact knocked it down, but I couldn’t watch for long. Oz had summoned the shade to deal with me, so it hunted me relentlessly through room. I kited it, but I had no damage spells to use against it. Ninlil had been the queen of those; my mother hadn’t used her powers that way.

Come on, I screamed silently. Wake up. Greydusk is dead because you’re a coward. Don’t let us die too.

Oz was casting again. He had to be tired as well, but he still had tricks up his sleeve. I dodged away from another icy burst, conscious of the shade closing the distance between us. If my throat hadn’t hurt so much, I’d have trash-talked him, but apart from the blind Hazo growling with rage and beating the hell out of a statue, the room was more or less silent.

Shannon slid up beside me, breathing hard. Her blade gleamed red from where she’d slashed the mage. “Do we honestly have a chance here?”

“Yeah,” I lied. “Watch out!”

Then I relocated again in a slow, lopsided gait, leading the shadow away from her. How the hell could I kill this thing? While I maneuvered I kept pillars and fountain between Oz and me, frustrating him. Finally he shouted, “Give up, Binder! I’ll be kind. Think of how much we could learn from you.”

“Like you did my father? Fuck you.” At first I wasn’t sure my damaged voice carried to him, but his answering snarl said it did.

Shannon took the second mage down. Busy fleeing from Chance, the Saremon didn’t even see her poised with her sword. She chopped him neatly across the middle; she lacked the strength to cleave, but the gut wound dropped him, and Chance finished him with a single punch. The mage’s face…melted.

At last, the demon queen stirred from her grief. She looked out from my eyes and saw the shade, the Hazo preparing to charge, and Oz deploying another spell. Her reflexes took over and they saved me from a bolt of acidic darkness. I dove wide and the energy hammered a statue behind me. The great stone beast sizzled and fell, breaking into chunks that smoked and flaked into dust.

“Chance, take the shade,” I ordered. He’d dealt with them successfully before, using his gloves. Fortunately Oz couldn’t summon and control more than one; his reserves must be running low also. Otherwise we might not win this.

Suddenly I was sure we would. I had a battle plan, one that was hers, and mine. Ours. She was back, and I was stronger. The imperative filled my head. This wasn’t defeat; this was an obstacle, nothing more. We’d kill these two pretenders and then retreat to heal up and regroup at my mountain fortress. In time, we’d return. Without Oz to lead them, the other castes would fall on their knees. I’d break the back of the resistance here and return triumphant. Even my pain and weariness lessened.

“Shannon, distract the Hazo.”

She cut me a look as if to say, Are you crazy, and then I nudged my purse on the ground nearby. Butch popped out of the bag.

“You too,” I told the dog. “Run around. Bark. Make some noise. Don’t let the big monster step on you.”

Butch crawled out of my bag, quivering, but his ears went up and he bounded away, his tiny, fierce yip sounding. I couldn’t watch how Chance was doing against the shadow. Head down, I ran for Oz, as fast as my bad leg would carry me. I wove around the statues and columns, ducking and rolling away from his spells. They came slower and slower, more time between them. He was tired, and I’d finish him.

Athame in hand, I charged and he fell back. “You’re not strong enough—”

His empty words died as I sank the blade into his side. His eyes widened when I realized what I was doing. Not a killing stroke, but a draining one. The demon blade served as a conduit, and I forced the last flicker of my power in through the weapon and latched on to the magick he had left. Then I pulled with every ounce of will.

He screamed and scrabbled frantically at the athame, but his strength faded as I suctioned his energy. Dark, tainted magick unfurled in my veins, revitalizing me. I held him pinned until his eyes fluttered shut and he sagged to the ground. For good measure, I cut his throat in a decisive slash and then I spun back to the battle in time to see the shadow explode into icy fragments at Chance’s hand.

Butch circled the giant Hazo, yapping ferociously and nipping at his toes. If you’ve ever seen someone try to step on a cockroach and fail—well, yeah. Despite the dire situation, I smiled. From behind cover, Shannon threw chunks of stone at the beast. The blindness was starting to wear off, but the demon didn’t have complete peripheral vision yet. Chance whispered the command word for fire, his gloves obeyed, and he flanked the Hazo smoothly.

He unleashed a flurry of blows, searing the creature’s hide. This Hazo took longer to catch fire because of its scaly hide and lack of clothing. And this one, as I viewed it with my witch sight, was layered in protective runes, courtesy of the now-deceased Oz. Unfortunately, his wards didn’t die when he did. I set to unraveling them, but it was slow going.