Page 38 of Spit

“It’s been said.” Sev grinned, unabashed.

I scoffed. “Modest.”

“I’m a demon. Modesty is not in our repertoire.” He shrugged.

Legion pulled out his phone. “Timkin is parked further down. He’s waiting for us.”

“Timkin is still alive?” Sev’s eyes widened comically.

“He’s fifty.” Legion waved a hand.

“Humans can live that long?” Sev cocked his head to the side.

Legion gave him a look, and I got the impression he was the sensible one out of the stewards.

We started to walk down the street. The two males striding in front. I hung back unintentionally, as my legs weren’t as long.

The back of my neck prickled, and my shadow lengthened and grew in size every time we passed a streetlamp.

I had a bad feeling.

“Uh, Legion?” I called out.

Legion glanced over his shoulder.

The limo stood at the end of the street, waiting. The driver was a shadow behind the windscreen.

I wrapped my arms around my chest, clutching my arms. I felt uncomfortable in borrowed sweats, a size too big. Though my weapons were long gone, I’d left my holsters in the room.

Legion and Sev turned as one, seeing something over my shoulder that I hadn’t. Their eyes widened. I turned to follow their gaze, but my sight was eaten by the approaching baseball bat—the wooden baton was wrapped in a bundle of rusty barbed wire.

I didn’t have time to duck. I had good reflexes, but I was still only human.

Luckily for me, my shadow was the self-preservation type and sucked into my body, controlling my movements without input. I felt my back arch and bend back. The bat missed my chin by a hair.

Sev and Legion moved so quickly that my hair whipped away from my face with the force of a strong wind. One moment they were ten feet away, and the next, Legion gripped the bat with his fist. Blood ran through his fingers as the barbed wire cut into his hand.

Legion threw the bat across the street, where it landed with a loud crack. Sev kicked out, planting his foot on the man’s chest. My attacker flew back, landing with the same force as his broken weapon. Groaning in the road, his leg twisted from the landing.

I saw something move in my peripheral vision, and on instinct, I reached for the gun I kept in my back holster—finding no weapon. Wasting precious seconds. My null abilities crashed against the second attacker as he lunged forward with his arms out to grab me.

Sloppy.

Judo wasn’t my favorite martial art. I was too bloodthirsty for it, but there was value in being able to use an opponent's weight against them.

Deashi Harai. I decided as he tried to pull me towards him. An oldie but a goodie. A classic foot sweep. My attacker felt like a house of cards, his back slapping the pavement as he fell.

I pulled back my foot to give the human a kick to the ribs with my steel-toe-capped boots—not very zen of me—but my shadow got there first, draining my attacker until his eyes dulled as his mouth began to foam.

My shadow wasn’t usually able to drain humans, but all that witch magic he’d been eating had given him a boost.

With no magic to steal, my shadow had gone straight for his life force, and he was feasting like a Christian the day after Lent.

I glanced up, pushing my hair away from my sweat-slicked forehead. More black-covered ninja wannabes poured out of the alleyway.

I cursed at my lack of weapons. Sev and Legion looked like battle gods as they kicked and wove.

Sev flung his hands out, and a moment later, one of his attackers stuffed his hands down his pants, too distracted to remember what he was doing.

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