Page 34 of Virgil's Demons

"Stay here," I told her, my voice low but firm. "I'll be back in a bit."

She nodded, her eyes still dark with the lingering edge of lust, but there was something else there too—worry, maybe. I wasn't sure, and I didn't have time to figure it out.

I stepped out of the building, my boots crunching on the gravel as I made my way toward the commotion. The maze was already lit up, flames licking up the walls of hay and wood, thick smoke billowing into the sky. Brimstone was barking orders, trying to get control of the chaos, while Bulldog and the others worked to contain the fire before it spread further.

But it wasn't just the fire that caught my attention. Siege had a Bloody Scorpion on his knees by the entrance, the rival gang's patch glaring under the dim light. The guy looked rough—blood smeared across his mouth, one eye swollen shut. He was barely conscious, head hanging low as Siege gripped him by the back of the neck.

"Fucking Bloody Scorpions," I muttered under my breath, my fists clenched as I moved closer. They always knew how to show up at the worst possible time, bringing their chaos with them like a damn plague.

Bulldog strode over, his face grim as Siege glanced up at him for direction. "What do you want me to do with him, Prez?" Siege asked, his voice dark with barely contained anger.

Bulldog didn't miss a beat, eyes flicking toward the crowd that had started to gather. "Whatever you're gonna do, do it out of sight. We don't need any more eyes on this shit."

Siege's grin was predatory as he jerked his head toward Guardian. "Let's take a walk," he growled, dragging the Scorpion to his feet. Guardian followed closely, his expression unreadable but his intentions clear as they moved toward the tree line, disappearing into the shadows.

With that handled, I turned back to the fire. Brim was yelling for more water, the flames getting higher. I grabbed a bucket, trying to stay focused, but something in the air felt wrong. There was tension, but it wasn't just the fight or the fire. It was something else, something that twisted in my gut like a warning.

Then I heard it.

A scream—sharp, chilling, and unmistakable.

Everything inside me froze. That scream wasn't just anyone's. It was hers.

"Barythaya."

The name left my lips like a curse, my heart lurching into my throat as I dropped the bucket and took off, my legs movingbefore my mind even caught up. The maze, the fire, the chaos around me—all of it faded into the background as I sprinted toward the sound, my pulse hammering in my ears.

The smoke was thick, the acrid scent burning my lungs with every breath, but I didn't slow down. I couldn't. My body was moving on instinct, driven by something deeper than fear. The instinct was primal, something protective. My legs pumped harder as I pushed through the field toward the house where I'd left her.

I ran through the house, the maze of mirrors stopped me in my tracks. They distorted my senses and my muscles tensed as I saw the shadows move around me. As I continued to fight my way through the mirrors I kept getting glimpses of those familiar red glowing eyes watching me.

"Entertained?" I asked the demon.

Very, it seethed into my ear and I cursed at it under my breath. Rage started to coil inside me.

You better run, Chaplain. She's waiting for you.

"Stay away from her you fucking piece of shit."

I finally made it out of the maze of mirrors and spotted Saddle at the end of the long hall. He was crouched over something—no,someone. My heart lurched in my chest as I ran toward them.

"Saddle?"

He looked up at me, his face pale beneath the smoke-stained air. He didn't have to say a word. I already knew.

I dropped to my knees beside him, and there she was. Barythaya.

She was convulsing on the ground, her body twisted, her limbs jerking in unnatural ways. Her pale skin had taken on a sickly hue, beads of sweat covering her forehead, and her eyes were rolled back. My blood ran cold.

Saddle looked up at me, his expression grim. "This isn't normal, man."

No, it wasn't. I knelt beside her, my hands hovering just above her trembling body, unsure of what to do.

Her body suddenly went limp, her skin far too pale under the flickering light, the side of her face streaked with blood. Her neck—there were marks, fresh, raw wounds I hadn't inflicted. They ran across her skin like claw marks and that made my stomach turn.

"Fuck," I breathed, my hands trembling as I reached out to touch her. The warmth of her skin told me she was still alive, but something waswrong. The air around her felt thick, almost suffocating, like the presence of something dark clung to her like a shadow.

And then I felt it—that familiar, sickening sensation crawling up my spine.

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