Page 8 of Demonic Division

Darkness overwhelms me, dulling my senses until the only thing I’m aware of is the pressure building in my head. My ears pop as the shadows reach beneath my skin,probing and tugging and clawing at something just below the surface. And then, it all just stops.

The next thing I know, I’m kneeling, one hand clutching Bo to my chest while the other presses into the ground. My breath comes hard and fast, creating a thick cloud of vapor as it clashes with the air. Fire burns beneath my palm, turning the skin raw and pink—but it’s not from heat.

Flecks of snow gather at the tips of my dark lashes as I raise my head, taking in my new surroundings. A frozen wasteland stares back at me, the light from the silver sun bouncing off the snow like millions of shimmering diamonds. The rounded dunes of snow are desertlike, covering the land as far as the eye can see, but the chilly air cutting my skin is the opposite.

Bo wriggles from my grip, hopping toward the demon, but I hardly notice. I fold my arms around my middle as my teeth begin to chatter, tearing my gaze from the landscape and refocusing on the sadistic, yellow-eyed demon who dragged me here. I try to open my mouth to speak—to ask where the hell he’s taken me—but I can’t seem to part my lips. My entire face has gone numb, the muscles frozen in place and unable to bend to my wishes.

The demon tilts his head, studying me. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you quivering?”

Instead of answering, I clutch my arms tighter around my middle as the snow and sleet pelt my exposed limbs.

The demon blinks and steps toward me, his eyes wide in alarm. “Hey!What’s going on? What’s wrong with your face?”

I try to shrug but realize I don’t have the energy and flop down to the ground. My lids grow heavier by the second, and soon, a comfortable warmth replaces the ice licking my skin.

“Mmm. Much better,” I whisper, allowing my eyes to close fully. Each breath is shallower than the last, and though something in the back of my mind screams, ordering me to remain awake—I simply cannot. I’m so tired, so warm and comfortable, and I know if I surrender, I’ll be blessed with a loving embrace.

I’ll just take a little nap. Just to recharge, and then I’ll get back up. It’ll only be for a minute, maybe five. And then…

“Dagny! Wake up, Dagny!”

4

Cyprien

My palms slideover the little human’s chilled skin, panic squeezing my throat at the sight of her trembling lips, darkening to a blue-black hue as the blood leaves her face. That invisible cord tying us together is thrumming violently, raging against the walls of my chest and shooting bolts of pain throughout every inch of my body. I don’t know much about humans, but I know enough about this one to knowthisisn’t normal.She’s freezing to death.

Without another thought, I wave a hand in the air, heated magic pooling in the tips of my fingers as I conjure my coat from the shadows. The outline shifts and dances in the breeze, then all at once becomes solid, the weight of the thick furs palpable in my grip. As soon as it’s fully formed, I scoop the little human off the ice and wrap her up in the coat, pulling the edges tight so only her face, hands, and feet poke out. I lay her back down on the ground, rubbing my palms over the fabric as I send waves of heated energy past the furs and into her skin in an attempt to warm her. But no matter how much energy I expel, the human refuses to stir.

A desperate whine echoes in my throat as I scoop her back into my arms, numb to the icy wind and snow whipping against my face. My back muscles shudder as shadows collect behind my shoulders, swirling and snapping in the wind until two powerful yellow wings materialize. My vision flickers with darkness as I wrap my arms around the little human, careful not to shred the fabric with my elongating claws. My mind grows foggy with my desperation, but I still have enough sense to know if I don’t get her out of this wind and warmed up within the next few minutes, the blood will freeze in her veins, in her heart, and she’ll cease to be.

My eyes flit across the barren landscape, searching for a break in the ground. Just when I’m about to give up all hope, I see it. A dark spot stands out against the snow, about three hundred yards to my right—an opening to the ice tunnels.

The claws of my feet extend, carving deep grooves into the ice as I push off the ground and into the air. I shoot across the landscape like a rocket, diving headfirst toward that small opening in the ground, not even certain whether it’s really there or just a product of my demented imagination. I close my eyes as we near the ground, taking a breath deep enough to be my last, knowing if I hit the ice headfirst at this speed, it very well could be.

The next moment, my eyes snap open, and a manic laugh peels from my open mouth as a tunneling wind whips around my body, filling my head with an ear-piercing whine. I pull my wings in tight as I fall deeper and deeper into the hole, my chest brimming with joy at the sight of the glimmering blue ice encasing me on all sides.I’ve never been so happy to be in a wyrm tunnel.

The shaft widens as we near the base, allowing me tospread my wings and slow our descent as the tunnel curves and bottoms out. My feet land silently on the glittering ice, nothing but the scraping of claws and rhythmic beat of my wings to break the heavy blanket of quiet hovering in the space. The air down here is thicker—warmer—and more importantly, absent of the biting wind we experienced above ground.

I gaze down at the little human in my arms, carefully peeling away the thick fur around her head to get a better look at her face. Already, some life has returned. Her lips, which were once so horrifyingly pale are now blushing a warm pink hue, the same one coloring the apples of her cheeks and the tip of her nose. Her eyelids—once crusted together by the ice and snow—now twitch gently, causing her dark lashes to brush over her cheekbones.

“What a strange little creature,” I murmur, running a clawed finger down the slope of her nose, down her chapped lips and chin. “So fragile, but so lovely…”

The longer I stare at her, the more the beast beneath my skin shudders, begging me to let it out. I don’t know what this feeling is—why it hurts as much as it heals or why it’s driving me out of my mind with the desire to hold her and heal her and destroy her all at once.

Not wanting to think about it anymore, I pull my gaze from the human and move out of the tunnel into the main chamber. While the space is much larger, the air is even warmer, filled with an eerie light that bounces off the glittering walls of the cavern and colors my skin blue. Dozens of shadowed passages line the walls in all directions, branching out to the deeper, more dangerous parts of the underground.

The back of my neck prickles as a far-off wail echoes through the labyrinth, vibrating the ground beneath myfeet. I have to remind myself that the sounds are miles away—that the upper portions of the tunnels have been abandoned for years and that there’s no danger of running into an ice wyrm. Still, I can’t help but keep watch on those shadowed pits.

Shaking off my paranoia, I move to the center of the room where it’s warmest and take a seat, carefully adjusting my grip on the little human so as not to accidentally harm her. I’m still unsure of the durability of her bones.

I peel back the hood of the coat, wanting to examine her more. Only when I do, I’m shocked to find her eyes open, the silver ring circling her pupil pulsing to the rapid beat of her heart.

“Who are you?” she whispers, her hazy eyes searching my face, trying to remember.

My mouth tips upward at the look of innocent wonder shining in her big brown eyes. My hand moves on its own accord, reaching for her face and brushing back some of the raven hair spilling across her forehead. “My name is Cyprien, little human.”

“Who am I?”

---