Page 61 of Mending Mayhem

Even Ember saw through the charade before I did. She deserved a mate who could protect her. She deserved better than me.

“It’s going to take a minute.” Miles held his phone near the window. “The reception in here is terrible.”

I eyed the door to the back of the shop. “I will find him.”

My fists clenched as tightly as my talons would allow, I kicked the door open, making it bounce off the wall with the impact. George squealed, the sound of his invisible feet scampering across the floor registering to my left.

Chaos and Shade followed me inside the storage room, and we fanned out, searching for the insolent creature. George grunted, and a shelving unit filled with boxes rocked on its base.

“Your race went extinct for a reason.” I crept down the aisle. “You cannot defeat us.”

“Demons didn’t vanquish my kind. Fae did that.” His voice sounded from my right, so I turned down the next aisle.

The shelving unit rocked again, and this time, it tipped over. Boxes scattered across the floor, the shoes inside them tumbling out as it crashed into me.

I caught the brunt of it with my shoulder, and I stumbled before pushing the unit upright. Kicking the boxes out of my way, I rushed for the next aisle. Shade and Chaos stood at the opposite end, trapping the invisible pest between us.

“Son of Balor, show yourself,” I said.

“You can’t make me!”

Shade grunted, clutching his abdomen and doubling over, bracing himself with the shelf. When he lifted his hand, blood dripped from his palm.

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MAYHEM

“Son of a bitch,” Shade ground out.

“No! Son of Balor.” The voice came from deeper in the room.

“Can you freeze him?” I asked as we rushed toward the sound.

Shade stopped, still bent forward and clutching his stomach, and pulled a bottled spell from his pocket. “If we can find him.”

Blood soaked his shirt, and he paled. “The bastard got me good.”

“Not a bastard.” The slap, slap, slap of his shoes on the tile moved toward the showroom door. “Dad was king. Mom was queen.”

A thud sounded from the aisle littered with boxes. The door swung open and slammed shut. I charged for it, but the handle wouldn’t turn.

“Those who can’t pay have to stay.” George laughed maniacally from the other side. “Time to drain my witches.”

“Over my rotting corpse.” I slammed my shoulder against the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Step aside.” Chaos braced himself to break down the door. His brow furrowed, and he paused before turning the knob. The door swung open easily.

“It’s this damn bracelet.” I hooked a talon beneath the offending silver and pulled. The snake writhed and tightened, taking more of its tail into its mouth.

Shade stumbled through the door. I reached a hand out, testing the Formorian’s spell, and my arm passed the threshold. I stepped through as if there were no spell at all. His magic was waning. Good.

Miles stood in front of the women, a knife in one hand, his phone in the other. “Sha—?” He closed his mouth before he could finish the name. Concern furrowed his brow, and he cut his gaze between the now visible creature and the shadow witch.

“It’s a gut wound. He’ll bleed out slowly.” George wrinkled his pig-like snout, sniffing the air. “Move, witch. Father needs to eat.”

I lunged for the Formorian. He disappeared in a blink and reformed behind Miles, crouching over Ember and pressing his snout to her mouth. Miles spun, swinging his knife. George disintegrated again, reforming in an instant.

Chaos moved for Ash and dragged her away from the wall. She kicked and screamed, begging to return to her place amongst the corpses.

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