Page 6 of Mayhem and Ember

While Chaos worked on barbecued roach fae, Ash and Shade whipped up another potion. I threw boards aside, rummaging through artifacts and tools the church stored in their basement. Sadly, no razor-sharp swords lay in the clutter, but a pair of hatchets caught my eye.

I stumbled over a prayer bench, twisting my ankle as I stepped on the edge of a two-by-four. The numbness from the fae venom spread into my shoulders and down my chest, squeezing my heart and lungs until it felt like I was breathing through a straw.

I managed to grab the hatchets, but as I rose, I tipped backward, crashing into the shelving unit attached to the wall. My vision tunneled, my pulse slowing until I could barely stay conscious.

“Hold on, Em!” Ash kneeled next to me, her blue hair barely registering in my pin-prick-sized field of vision. She poured a potion into my mouth. At least, I assumed that was what she did. I’d lost feeling everywhere except my legs.

“Here’s the second one.” Shade handed something to her, and my vision dimmed into darkness, my breaths slowing, ceasing.

A tickle formed in my throat, spreading into my chest and down my arms. I gasped, and the breath I raked in filled my lungs fully, making them burn. My lids flew open, my blurry vision swimming back into focus, and I sat upright, gasping again before coughing like a teenager the first time they took a hit of a blunt.

“He has…soft spots,” I said between coughs.

They helped me to my feet, and we crawled over the mess to stand next to Chaos. He breathed heavily, sweat beading on his brow as he blasted another heatwave at the fae.

“That’s enough.” Ash clutched his arm. “You might be immortal, but you can still get vanquished. Save your strength. Ember has a plan.”

I peered up at Roachman clinging to the ceiling. His back faced us, but his charred wings had retracted, leaving his head exposed.

“His exoskeleton lies in layers over his chest, like fish scales,” I said. “We can stab him beneath one if you’ve got a long enough knife.”

“If we can get him down.” Shade held up a weapon. “It’s my last one.”

Clutching the hatchets in one hand, I retrieved my three-inch knife and traded him for the long one. “He’s also soft beneath his ear holes. Aim for that, and make it count.”

He nodded once and threw the blade. It rotated through the air and hit home, right in the fae’s neck. The beastie let out a pained screech, losing his grip on the ceiling and hanging on by one clawed hand.

I hurled the first hatchet at his wrist, but he swung, shielding himself with a burned wing. He reached his other hand to the ceiling, and I threw, the hatchet tumbling head over handle and slicing into my target.

Roachman fell, his amputated claw still clinging to the ceiling as his back smacked the ground. Ash hit him with a freezing spell, and I stood over him, a nine-inch dagger clutched in my hand.

“Don’t ever try to come between a woman and her sword.” Lifting an armor plate, I jabbed the dagger into his flesh and twisted before yanking it out and thrusting it in again. “And never try to swap spit without consent.”

The fae raked in a breath and wheezed, “Our…world…now.” His head lolled to the side, and he stilled, his lifeforce returning to the ether.

“Since when can fae talk?” I wiped my hands on my pants and straightened.

“His level and higher always could.” Chaos jostled the corpse with his boot. It didn’t move.

“In English?” I picked up the rope and made another harness, wrapping it around my thighs and tying it at my waist.

“They learn quickly, as do demons.” He helped Ash return the supplies to her bag. “Did you think English was my first language?”

“I never gave it much thought. Here…” I tossed the end of the rope toward him. “Make use of your brute strength and lower me into the pit. I want my sword, and then I want a scorching hot shower. I hate roaches almost as much as I hate rats.”

He gripped the rope and slowly lowered me into the crevice. With my feet against the dirt wall, I rappelled twenty feet and hit bottom. “Don’t let go,” I shouted and turned on my phone’s flashlight.

The hole was massive, somehow growing wider at the bottom than it was at the top, and I had to wonder how much of this was Chrys’s doing versus Mayhem’s. Chrys was a powerful witch; she’d shown us that plenty of times before she summoned the demon into her head.

But was she this strong? Sadly, we would never know.

I shined the light around the dirt and caught a glimmer of enchanted silver. “There’s my baby.”

I grabbed her handle and swung her in two perfectly balanced figure eights before gripping her with both hands and sending fire licking up the blade. Ahhh…That’s more like it.

After extinguishing the flames, I holstered the sword in my back scabbard, picked up Shade’s dagger, and shouted, “Bring me up.”

Chaos pulled me out of the crevice, and I untied the rope, freeing myself from the harness. I shot a flame at the fae’s body, trying to cremate the beastie, but his armor protected him from the fire, even in death. I barely singed him. “It’s like these suckers were made to be a fire witch’s sworn enemy.”

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