Page 68 of Cry for Help

The building began to shake as Behem rapidly expanded, rubble and concrete dust rained down, and I covered my head, folding over Caim’s body to protect him. He was fading. I could feel it, but I didn’t accept it.

The rebar keened overhead as the Behemoth grew too large for the building, breaking it around him as he continued to grow. Malphas dragged himself through the fog of concrete dust, coughing, wiping the thick paste from his face as he struggled to see. His face fell with his eyes laid on Caim.

Caim flashed one of his signature grins, but his pointed teeth were blood-coated.

“You’re a demon.” I snapped. “Take out the iron bar and heal yourself. You have magic! Use some of it, for fucks sake.”

Caim coughed, the sound wet and sloppy. Blood splattered over my face. “Gotta go, Banshee.”

“Why?” I demanded.

“Claiming.” He rasped, and it was evident that every word hurt him more than he was letting on. “Claim the city, and kick the Behemothout.”

I thought back to what I had told Caim about the claiming, about how powerful Bean Sídhe’s could become gods of their own domain—could control the air around them—once they had claimed a home. But claiming was not for the fainthearted. To claim somewhere was to bind yourself to the land, to feed it with your magic, and to never be able to leave.

I didn’t want to bind the Red City. I didn’t want to be stuck behind the tall, warded walls with a bunch of horrible demons—demons that had no qualms about eating my kind.

Sídhe were territorial, and when I’d been a child, I’d come to terms with the fact I would never claim my own land. I didn’t even know how to. Not really.

Caim coughed again, but this time, his eyes began to cloud over. His red irises darted from side to side as if he could see something that wasn’t there. “Pra’y avun’yar tana,Mara.” He moved his mouth, and though I recognized the words as demonic, I could barely hear them.

“What did he say?” I whispered, wiping a tear from my eye.

Caim’s eyes grew dull.

He stopped breathing.

His hand grew limp and fell to the ground.

“Take me home, goddess of death.” Malphas closed his eyes and sat back.

I felt it rising inside of me. The scream.

But it felt different.

“Damn you, Caim.” I snarled. “I don’t want to claima fucking city.”

I didn’t even know if I could bring him back. It was possible if he belonged to me and the city belonged to me. But Caim was too damned optimistic about my abilities. Too damned optimistic about everything, really.

He didn’t deserve this.

My teeth unlocked, and I let out a scream, feeling the earth shake as death claimed the horned and red-eyed demon.

Chapter Twenty-One

Malphas POV

The Behemoth had grown too large to be contained by his own home—a mindless creature lost to hunger. Only a single foot remained in the hallway; the rest of his body had disappeared through the hole in the ceiling.

Malphas had faced hundreds of armies. He had stood by B’ael, the King of Wrath, and gone into battle with the point of his finger. He had swung swords, he had commanded armies, and he had relished in the blood spilled.

But the Behemoth was too much.

A creature of endless hunger.

It had been for nothing.

The deal with Asmodeus wasn’t worth the Vellum it was written on. Not many demons would take a chance on someone who’d spent so many years in Lucifer’s garden of betrayers. Asmodeus had been risking her reputation by offering the deal, or maybe she’d known what she’d sent them into.

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