Page 138 of Death is My Ride or Die

Death’s skilled hands were already twisting each blade around his fingers in a mirrored motion, his arms coming down fast and hard to flawlessly sever each vampire’s neck.

Another vampire launched out from behind him, but Death spun one blade backward in his palm and brought his arm up, stabbing the vampire through the throat. Death turned toward the creature and ripped the blade through the rest of the tendons of the newborn’s neck, its head dropping amongst the growing pile.

“Adequate,” Malphas commented.

Death’s lip lifted in a snarl.“Adequate?”

Shadows collected from the darkest corners of the room, crawling toward Death like creatures on all fours. They curled up his frame and formed a menacing aura around his silhouette.

Death dropped his swords and pivoted, sprinting toward the entryway and launching himself at four more vampires that had reached the scene. His talons lashed out, slicing through an enemy’s torso. When his fist drove through the chest of another, he walked forward with the vampire in his clutches and stalked somewhere out of view. Screams were heard. A chunk of flesh or an organ flew across the hall and smacked a vampire right in the face.

The vampires came sprinting in a panic through the archway toward Malphas and me like the T-Rex chase scene fromJurassic Park. Their clothes were mangled and covered in blood, and they clutched at their injured body parts. Death gripped the archway behind them and swung back into the hallway, landing on both vampires before they could reach us, his fangs bared. He crushed the backs of their skulls into the ground with his bare hands.

Awesome.And disgusting.

Death collected his fallen swords and rose to his full height, tossing a strand of black hair from his forehead. He stared icily at his father.

Malphas hummed and then picked at a piece of imaginary lint on his shirt. Looked like Death had successfully vanquished his father’s criticism.

Moments later, the three of us stood in a passageway that opened onto a wider space with high ceilings. Pentagrams and hexagrams with symbols and languages I didn’t understand covered almost every surface. The air was thicker in here, electric. Like rubbing a balloon vigorously against your skin and creating static. An eerie sensation clung to me from all directions, almost as if the walls had eyes.

“This room is giving me the heebie-jeebies,” I said. “Is it hard to breathe, or is it just me?”

“Just you, cupcake,” Death said.

Malphas lowered to the ground, his hand hovering outside the intricate lines of the pentagram design in front of him. His pale fingers tensed, the blackness along his fingertips crawling down the back of his hands. Smoke levitated from the lines engraved into the marble floor, and when Malphas looked over his shoulder, black branches webbed from his eyes and extended across his pale features like poisoned veins.

“The Seal of Solomon,” Malphas said. “Ahrimad must have summoned this from the Underworld. I imagine a summoning spell like this would severely weaken him in his current state.”

“You seem surprised,” Death spat.

“As I’ve told your little girlfriend, I haven’t been kept in the loop.”

“You’re Ahrimad’s second-in-command. The reason I lost my goddamn scythe. You’re telling me you haven’t been kept in his loop?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. For the record, you lost your scythe because you were too busy doting on a temporary mortal. Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

Death lunged for his father and knocked him hard to the ground. Malphas’s leash went flying out of my hand as he nearly pulled me down with him.

“Hey!” I cried.

“What game are you playing at?” Death snarled, his hand wrapped in his father’s shirt. “I’ll give you five fucking seconds, and then I’m tearing your head off.”

Malphas said nothing. Revealed nothing. The raven demigod’s face flattened to an unnerving blank slate, but his jaw was clenched so tight that I could have sworn I heard molars grinding.

“Death.” I gripped Death’s arm, his flesh scorching to the touch. “He’s not worth it, and he’s our bait.” I pointed at the pentagram, desperate to get him to calm down. “Why don’t you tell me what a Seal of Solomon is?”

“It’s a way to summon powerful demons,” Death answered gruffly. He released Malphas’s collar with a shove and stalked around the room. At every pentagram, he methodically checked it by tracing the design with his fingertips.

“You said Ahrimad was weakened,” Death snarled at Malphas.

“Because heis,” the raven demigod said. “He’s not corporeal like you or me. It’s why he must hold the blade so often.”

Death and Malphas exchanged a long look, as if they had carried their conversation into a mental argument.

“Can someone explain to me what the hell is going on?” I asked. “High-energy demon sounds a little concerning.”

“There are fifteen different pentagrams in here,” Death said. “We’ve only entered one room. Corporeal or not, Ahrimad is anything but weak. Consider the graveyard a smokescreen.”

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