Page 103 of Death Trap

“Can you guys handle the Halflings on your own or do you need me to stay?” I asked, glancing between my friends and the group of half demons stalking toward us like a moving wall. There was no escape besides going back into the elevator.

Each of them nodded. Even Marla, who still clutched her arm.

“There would be no shame in backing out,” I told her. The physical toll from her wounds was one thing, but I couldn’t imagine what was going on in her head after being confronted by the very creatures who’d ripped her insides out and killed her.

“No way,” she snapped. “Now I’m ticked off. I may have a busted arm, but I can make a level two spell with one hand tied behind my back. We got them, Jade. You get the weasel.”

I smiled. I don’t know how she did it, but even angry and wanting blood, Marla had still managed to not say one curse. She was a walking marvel.

Me, on the other hand…

When I peeked at the center of the office and noticed Azrael starting to sneak back toward his desk, I let the f-word fly free.

What a fucking coward.

There must have been some kind of back door over there we couldn’t see. Maybe a spirit door or something. I couldn’t let him get away.

I sprinted toward the Halflings. When talons grabbed for me, I concentrated on unleashing some of my light at them to zap them away. All I got was a spark, enough to momentarily disorient them so I could squeeze past.

In front of me, Azrael climbed onto his desk, facing away from the commotion.

As Eli, Simon, and Marla collided with the Halflings, the sounds of screeches mixed with grunts, snarls, and Marla’s spell-casting filled the office. All the while, the slow-strumming jazz music from the open elevator played in the background, a stark contrast to the chaos going on in front of it.

The closer I got to Azrael’s desk, the brighter that part of the room got. The soft orange glow told me there was a spirit door open and waiting for him on the other side, and he was planning on jumping in it for a quick getaway.

Instead of leaping at Azrael from behind and risk falling into the door with him, I swung right to stay out of eyeshot and looked around for something that could smear the chalk drawings. Then the power would extinguish and the door would close. Azrael wouldn’t have time, or maybe even the power, to draw another, so he’d be stuck here to face me.

All I found was a small stool that had been tossed aside during the chaos. I grabbed it and slid it, top down, across the wooden floor just as Azrael jumped for the door. The moment the cushion touched the outermost chalk line, smearing it ever so slightly, the light snuffed out and there was a hard thud of Azrael’s shoes hitting the solid floor instead of passing through the spirit door.

He crumpled on the ground with a loud grunt.

Wow, my aim was getting better. I impressed myself.

My victory was short-lived, though. When Azrael stood up, he whirled on me, his eyes ablaze with such raw hatred, I stepped back.

He threw his hand out and power, as black as death and as sharp as spines, flew straight for me at lightning speed.

I almost didn’t have enough time to leap out of the way. One of the spikes grazed my upper arm, slicing through the flesh before shattering against the wall behind me with the others into thousands of tiny onyx glass fragments. They disintegrated into thin air the next second, yet the pain biting into my arm was as sharp as a wasp’s sting. Clamping my hand over it, I bit my lip.

My hand quickly became slick with my blood, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. Azrael was on his feet, trudging toward me while slinging more black barbed things my way.

I danced out of the way of one and twisted out of reach of another. But there were too many coming at me at once.

I felt the pain before seeing the three-foot shard sticking out of my side, right above my jeans. It was excruciating, like I had been stabbed by a red-hot poker straight out of the fire.

Another spike buried into my shoulder, throwing my body off balance. I fell onto my knees. Tears sprang to my eyes as I tried to lift myself back to my feet. Azrael was getting closer and more of those black glass things were coming my way, but the pain radiating from the spikes already embedded in my skin made my muscles tighten agonizingly and my head spin.

I got as far as tucking my legs under me and straightening my elbows before Azrael’s polished Oxfords appeared directly in front of me.

I winced, knowing full well my time for extra chances with him was over. And I had used the last of my cat lives.

This was it. He was going to kill me.

“This is how it should be.” There was a sick pleasure in Azrael’s voice as he stared down at me. “I never understood why you and the other Archangels were God’s favorite. Especially when the other Firsts and I did so much for him since the beginning of time. I ran all the afterlife dimensions efficiently. I never heard any complaints.”

Then he hadn’t been listening because I had certainly complained many times about my job. But I kept that thought to myself. I didn’t need to give him a reason to speed up my death at all.

I looked up, meeting his gaze full-on and wiping all pain from my expression. I wasn’t his obedient little reaper anymore, and the fear I once had for him was no longer there. Even though the shards of his power still stuck out of me and the pain in my body was almost blinding, I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

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