Page 12 of Torn Between Two Worlds

The hand released from around his neck, and he gasped, sucking in a deep breath of air. His body fought to replenish the previously cut off supply. Leather Jacket didn't say more, but in his eyes, Jonathan saw his wife's murder. The guy was definitely the devil, and it was far too late to get out of bed with him.

Limping over to the knife he’d dropped, he wiped a hand over his forehead to stop the trickle of blood into his eyes. Dragging his body over to the demon chained to the wall, he spit at the demon's face when the foul creature smirked at him.

“Now, so you can do this properly, I will heal you. But remember, I can undo it just as easily, human.”

Jonathan didn't miss the sneer in his voice. As quickly as the pain had come, it was gone. Just gone. With a nod, he punched the demon in the face.

“We're going to play a game, you piece of shit. Ya know, the one we played when you first joined us. Only, this time, I don't care if you live. Failure begets failure, and we've tested on your breed enough to not need you around.”

The giddiness faded from the demon's eye as he contemplated the threat.

Jonathan slammed the knife deep into the creature’s gut and didn't flinch as the black blood like substance oozed out over his hand. He twisted the blade twice. “What happened?”

The demon opened his mouth to talk, and Jonathan removed the knife and sliced the creature’s wrist off. Howls of pain echoed off the cement walls and floor, and he heard Leather Jacket's chuckle behind him. “So you know I'm not playing.”

The demon's voice was raspy and laced with shallow breathing from the pain. “He overpowered us. We are not meant to fight our betters and win.”

The demon sounded exasperated, but he wasn't answering thoroughly, and Jonathan wanted answers. Walking to the table behind him, he grabbed the steel mallet from the table. Without missing a beat, walked to the demon and cracked it across its knees. This time the howl of pain made his head ring.

“Do not give me half answers, demon. I will leave you to die if you don't give me all the details. You're running out of things for me to break and slice off. I'd hate to have to take your skin.” He hated the idea of killing a specimen. They’d caught so few and needed to study them to win their war. On the other hand, all generals made sacrifices for war, and killing one wouldn't be the worst.

“War's apprentice.”

The words were so discreet he almost missed them.

“Fuck.” In his anger, he slammed the mallet into the creature’s stomach, causing the blood to ooze out quicker. Demons were one thing. They had a pecking order, but to be dealing with an apprentice? Apprentices were third in the pecking order, falling just below those that trained under Lucifer. Mere demons wouldn't be enough if a Horseman's second was around. They needed all forces on deck next time. And it needed to be his men, not demons. Weaker or not, Earth was for humans, and they would succeed. He wondered why Leather Jacket hadn’t shared that bit of info with him.

“Not to intervene in this party, but he's going to die from blood loss in about two minutes. I suggest speeding it up if you want your medics to be able to save him.” Leather Jacket's words seemed less than interested, like reminding him was a chore.

“War's second wasn't supposed to be there. He surprised us and killed my companions. I ran. I am here and will serve.”

It was a trick. It was always a trick, but if it gave him an excuse to save a test subject, he couldn't complain.

“You should know what you work with. That man is not a man, that man overpowers even Luc—” the demon was cut off and suddenly a gashed opened in his throat from ear to ear. Black oozed out, and his head lulled to the side.

“That's enough of that.” Leather Jacket's voice was laced with anger.

He did that fucking poofing trick before Jonathan could figure out what was happening. What he did know was that the demon had been murdered to hide a secret, and he had a feeling, no matter how hard he tried, he would never learn it.

“So fuck the secret. Get your people into the other world and leave demons to this one.”

He sat back and watched as the attack on Ciara Miller happened. As always, he and his brother could not interfere directly with a Word Speaker. Ironically, that was one rule his brother had never tried to break. Probably for the best. He knew that it would all end with one of them dying. But he really did want something more for his brother than that and wondered why they'd been stupid enough to want immortality in exchange for such an existence.

For a moment, he didn't think Stryder was going to hold up his end of the deal, but he did. Breathing a sigh of relief, he closed the looking glass apparatus he used to watch over all his Word Speakers until their full powers came in and they didn't need him, their part in the prophecy fulfilled with their choice of who to release. Sometimes, he fought for those who chose to release evil into the world, but mostly he left them. Black begets white, dark balances light, and he knew that a little extra didn't hurt the balance.

He was curious why his brother had picked to work with the demon-exorcising group. They'd learned, over the years, Ciara Miller was strong and unswayable. That she would remain on his side. So his brother's goal had shifted to simply murdering her so that one as strong as she wouldn't be around to receive her full powers. But it didn't explain why he’d gone after the human organization. He shook his head, his brother never made sense anymore, and he only hoped that, in picking the humans, the attacks on Ciara wouldn't be as dangerous—even if they kept sending demons. As long as she accepted Stryder, she would be okay. He knew she was about to unlock some powers early. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew Ciara Miller's abilities had been hampered by Alcott. Seems he was right.

All Word Speakers had abilities that varied. Some could teleport, some could wield whatever power their Guardian could. But with how much power Ciara held, she shouldn't have needed stasis to visit Alcott. She should have been able to just go. Like she'd been able to just shove Stryder and lock him out. “Curiouser and curiouser. Just how strong are you, and how do I keep you safe from my brother long enough to reach your birthday?”

8

She hadn't moved. Food hadn't been on her mind, and she hadn't needed a restroom because of it. It had been almost twenty-four hours. Derrick had texted her early that morning—a quick goodbye and nothing more. Tears had sprung to her eyes so fast, the world had turned to a blur before she'd even read the text. Simply seeing his name had been enough. She would never forgive Alcott for bringing tears back into her life. She hated the weakness. Crying hadn't brought her parents back, and it wouldn't suddenly make Derrick more perfect so they could be together, and it certainly wouldn't ease her desire to be touched by Stryder.

Enough.

Her life was a well of guilt lately. Guilt that made her stomach churn like a butter vat, mixing and mashing her insides up. She'd done nothing but think about the impracticality of getting involved with a Guardian since she'd allowed herself that moment with Stryder. She'd looked at pictures from her life, drafted a first letter to a cousin she hadn't seen in awhile, read texts over and over. Anything she could think of to force her brain not to think of Stryder and how much she wanted him. None of it had worked. All she'd been able to think about was Stryder. He'd known just how to touch her, how to drag her over the edge, even when she hadn't known she'd needed someone's touch.

When her phone vibrated next to her, she turned to see what it was. Seeing the text from Gina, she knew that if she didn't respond, her sorority sister and lifelong friend would only end up on her doorstep. Grabbing the phone, she slid the keyboard accessory out. She still hated touch screens, despite how long they'd been out and owning an iPhone.

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