Page 106 of Angel Lost

I fling myself down beside Chano on a bench, watching as tiny hada bear down on the last hellion in sight. It looks for all the world like a wild boar, except for its demonic expression. With a bloodcurdling screech, four hadas clutching a giant skewer fly at breakneck speed at the creature. The pointy end rams straight down its throat and doesn’t stop until it exits near its asshole. Cringing, I look away. By the time I glance back, the hada have lit a fire under the thing and are happily roasting it while it’s still gasping its last breaths. Hada are insane.

Kai shambles up, purple hair invisible under a sheen of black hellion blood, face caked, and clothes torn. His face though, is alight. I’ve never seen him look so alive.

He is also insane.

Groups of exhausted students start to flop to the ground, screams of terror giving way to background chatter.

I eye a group of extra-large men as they shamble around the corner and set up a picnic in the middle of the football pitch. Chano is a big demon,and they are at least half as big again. I chew on my cheek, glancing around. Is someone else going to deal with them? Please let them be someone else’s problem. They clearly don’t belong. But…a picnic? They can’t be hellions. A group of hada fly toward the four, and I sit up straighter. Instead of repeating the hideous skewer scene, however, they bear refreshments. Is that…? I rub my hand over my eyes. Strawberries?! No. Way. Precious hada strawberries? Out of season. Whoarethese men?

A posse of professors heads toward them. Beside me, Chano pushes wearily to his feet. I catch his hand, and he tows me along behind.

The professors group together in a weary attack formation. All except Hannya, who strides forward, parks her ass on the picnic blanket and starts scarfing fruit. The professor’s tiny frame looks like a child’s toy next to the men. She glances up and winks at Chano. He heaves a sigh, stepping in front of the professors.

“Leave them be. They were dragged here by the rip. Much like the human. Stand down.”

Professor Maximillion slinks to Chano’s side. Always a Maverik man. But the rest shuffle uncomfortably. A couple of the angels ruffle their feathers, the dry, papery noise irritating my brain.

Professor Hannya clears her throat. “I’m with Mr. Maverik. I would not advise attacking, unless they attack you.” She pats the closest man’s knee. “Even then, none of you would stand a chance against a full demon. Never mind four of them.”

Hannya pops a strawberry into her mouth before jumping up and strolling off. Everyone, demons included, stares after her. The professors shuffle forward.

“Don’t do it,” Chano warns. Alairik and Raff step to his side, forming a thin barrier.

“Sensible little demon,” the largest of the men booms, his voice like rolling thunder.

Chano’s horns explode from his head again, but against the massive, curving horns of the demons lounging on the blanket, his look like an afterthought. Their tails flick lazily, the sharp tips dragging patterns through the blood-soaked grass, their hulking frames at ease despite the carnage around them. Farrell shifts closer to Chano, so casually I don’t think anyone else noticed.

A shrill whistle pierces the air, and the shifters among us clap their hands over their ears. The human strides around the corner, dog whistle still between her teeth. Her gaze snags on the four demons sprawled across a bloodstained picnic blanket—horns, tails, claws, utterly at ease in the carnage.

Her eyes narrow.

“I can’t be seeing this,” she mutters, half to herself, half to me.

She doesn’t see the stray hellion lunging from behind. Chano does. He surges forward, but before he can reach her, a black blur moves faster still.

One of the demons—all horns and snarls—tears into the hellion with brutal efficiency, ripping it apart like paper. The girl staggers back, panting, blood splattered across her tweed.

Grumpy Demon. That’s what I’m calling him.

The other demons watch with interest. One flicks his tail, adjusting his sleeves, too polished for this blood-soaked battlefield. He blows the human a kiss. Flirty Demon. Another tilts his head, pushing his glasses up his nose, already looking like he’s analyzing whatever the hell just happened. Broody Demon.

But it’s Grumpy who steps forward, towering over the human, eyes dark and unreadable. Then he inhales deeply, nostrils flaring.

“I claim this one,” he growls.

Flirty chokes on a laugh. Broody studies them like they’re a puzzle. And beside me Chano tenses.

Deliberately slowly, the human wipes blood off her sleeve, glares up at Grumpy, and then jabs a finger into his chest.

“First of all, I just got attacked, and you think now’s the time for some caveman bullshit?” She shoves him again. “Second, I don’t belong to anyone. And third? If I did, it sure as hell wouldn’t be you. You don’t even know my name!”

Grumpy blinks, thrown. His tail flicks once, twice.

“It’s Isla, by the way.” She exhales hard, turning to me. “Now, who do I talk to about a dry-cleaning bill?”

The demons still seated laugh so hard they lie flat on the checkered blanket, and steam, actual steam, rises from Grumpy’s skin.

“Here comes the cavalry,” Kai says, his voice drifting down from the top of the lamppost. I crane my neck. Up a lamppost? What iswrongwith that fae? “Council incoming.”

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