Page 32 of House of Demons and Bones

Students swarmed toward the Pathfinder building by the hundreds, like a persuasion spell had rained down on them. The mass blocked my path.

I shoved through, but more filled the gaps.

Then Cami appeared beside me, with Bea and our group close behind.

“Let us help,” Cami said. “You aren’t alone.”

Her air magic burst forth, joined by Bea’s mage wind. Drusilla and the other chaos bride candidates added their currents too, shoving the crowd aside like parting waves.

I charged through the clearing with my friends on my heels, their magic speeding us toward the Veil.

As we crested the hill, the Veil’s shimmer flickered. Massive claws and a monstrous body fused with machine parts pushed through the passage.

Six Shriekers had breached the Veil.

My heart slammed against my ribs. One minute later and they’d have started their killing spree.

“Princess!” they shrieked at the sight of me.

Rage boiled in my veins as I eyed my prey. Two bore traces of my father’s blood; his stored supply of my blood must be running low. If Ruin used that blood to mass produce a Shriekerarmy, the realm would fall. Chills sank into my bones at the realization that my father’s work was nearly complete. The deadliest invasion in history loomed.

Sy!I summoned.

Roger!Her rage matched mine, her hate burning just as brightly.

Her power surged through my legs, and I ran.

“Barbie, slow down!” Bea called. “We do this together!”

“Stay where you are!” I shouted back. “Your weapons and magic don’t work on Shriekers.”

I launched toward the abominations, leaving my friends behind.

“I have a message from the master!” A female Shrieker opened its mouth.

“Keep your fucking message to yourself, or shove it up Ruin’s hole,” I snarled in the ancient godly tongue. The Shrieker’s grotesque face twisted in shock, as if it had actual feelings.

Spare me!

I opened my fist and summoned Deathsong. It materialized from the mist into my hand.

The evil blade giggled as my fingers curved around its hilt.Mistress, let’s?—

I hurled it at the speaking Shrieker. The blade flipped end over end until its ebony tip found its mark between the monstrous yellow eyes.

The other Shriekers screamed. I hadn’t broken stride. With an extended fist, I yanked Deathsong free of the falling corpse and had the jeweled hilt in my palm without missing a beat.

Deathsong and I, becoming one, whirled through the Shriekers, unfazed by their siege. The evil blade gorged on my goddess energy. Like a violent twister, we sliced through the tentacles striking at us from every angle. Blood and gore drenched me.

I leapt and slashed through a trunk-sized tentacle like hard butter, twisted to dodge the rain of severed chunks—a feat impossible for most supernaturals—and landed on a male Shrieker’s machine shoulder.

Crouching on my ride, I sliced through more detestable tentacles and then sent Deathsong spinning again.

I’m dizzy, it complained before severing a Shrieker’s head.

Without waiting for its return, I channeled Sy’s transformation and buried our claws in the vulnerable spot between my mount’s eyes.

I’d taught the heirs and their warriors that the third eye space was the abominations’ weak point. Deathsong was the only weapon lethal to them. What the heirs didn’t know was that I could also kill Shriekers with my bare hands.

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