Page 67 of Cry for Help

The moment my inner voice verbalized the thought, Behem stalked closer, but before I could move—Caim leaped on the demon's back, wrapping his arms and legs around the Gluttony demon like a monkey.

“Run!” He called out, cackling as he clung to the demon. Behem swung his body around, backing into the concrete wall to try and crush Caim.

Murmur was tossed to the side like a ragdoll. Stolas rushed Behem, but he knocked him back like a bad smell.

I didn’t need to be told twice. It was every man for himself, and Caim had less chance of being dinner.

The iron bars turned my stomach, making every inch of my skin burn as I passed through them. I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to find Malphas and Stolas on my heels, but I was alone.

Each of them formed a wall between Behem and my retreating form. There was no magic, just pure force.

Murmur was too far away. I couldn’t drag him. I felt mymagic reaching out like a golden thread, sliding off his body, unable to gain purchase.

Behem swung a long skeletal arm, knocking Malphas clean off his feet. Caim punched Behem in the side of the head.

It was painful. Bloody.

Malphas tried to get up, but his arms failed him.

Stolas rushed Behem, but the demon reared back, kicking Stolas right through the bars. The iron bars broke free from the concrete, obscuring the world in a cloud of dust.

I raced to the door at the end of the corridor; it was iron, just like the bars. My hand burned when I touched it. The handle didn’t move. I grabbed my t-shirt and wrapped my blistered palm, tugging the door. Locked.

The other cells were empty.

There was no scream inside of me. No death, despite Behem’s blows.

I couldn’t summon a spark of magic. I couldn’t fight back.

Behem crawled through the gap in the broken bars, his body growing by the minute, filling out like the thick trunk of a walking cedar tree. His body grew rounder, the skin taut with muscle. He was monstrous. His eyes were wild. Drool fell from his mouth as if he couldn’t control himself. Feverish and hungry.

I didn’t know how to kill a demon. It wasn’t something that had ever come up in my education before.

Caim clung to his back through sheer willpower, his legs hanging like a broken doll as Behem crawled closer to me—part demon, part spider, part rampaging animal.

I tried to scream, pouring all the frustration and fear into a single sound, but all that came out was raw and jagged. Not magical.

“I hope you choke on me, you pig!” I shouted, cradling my blistered hands. Anger wasn’t the key to finding the untapped well inside of me. I was inert. The only time I everfeltmy magicwas in the presence of death.

I met Caim’s red-eyed gaze over Behem’s head. “Pass me an iron bar!” He called out. Behem shook like a wet dog trying to loosen him.

I didn’t care that it would hurt. My hands were blistered and weeping already. Stolas lay on his side, unconscious. Malphas, too, on the other side of the cell. Murmur was buried under a pile of rubble.

I looked down at my feet. One of the iron bars, the concrete remnants of the cell still attached to the end. Holding back a yelp of pain, I grabbed it and threw it towards Behem and Caim. My aim was shit; it hit the gluttony demon in the thigh as he continued to grow in size. His body took up most of the corridor, his head growing larger still. Caim finally let go of the demon's neck, unable to wrap his arms around Behem’s throat as it grew in size. He dropped to the floor, rolling with a flourish. I pressed my bloody hands to my stomach, my back pressed against the vault door.

Behem took a thundering step towards me.

Caim grabbed the iron bar.

Yes. I pumped my fist.

Caim raised the iron bar and thrust the broken edge through his own throat.

Chapter Twenty

Behem hunched over, more focused on his expanding mass than the bleeding demon at his feet. Caim gasped like a fish out of water, and I felt the scream build in my throat before I even reached his side.

I skidded across the floor, sliding through Caim’s blood as I grabbed the iron pole in his neck, unsure whether to pull it out or leave it in. I let go as the metal seared my fingers. My hands were unusable, and my eyes swimming with tears.

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