Page 138 of When Death Whispers

The air itself changes, thickening with something charged, something wrong. The kind of wrong that makes my instincts scream, my gut churn, my body tense like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff and something is watching, waiting to push me over.

I don’t like it.

I don’t like any of this.

My grip tightens around my side, blood still oozing from the deep gashes left by those bone-clicking, too-many-eyed nightmares we just barely survived. The warm slickness coats my fingers, dripping in steady rivulets onto the ground, feeding my cursed little breadcrumb trail that’s leading us to Parker.

Rad still hasn’t looked at me yet, which means either he’s ignoring the fact that I’m bleeding out, or he just doesn’t care.

I barely register the pain anymore. The exhaustion? The lightheadedness? That’s a different story.

“The fuck is happening?” I yell over the deep, groaning wail that suddenly rolls through the trees—like the Evergloom itself is shifting, protesting, waking up.

Something about it sends a violent shudder through me, like my bones are trying to recoil inside my own skin.

Rad doesn’t answer. He’s too busy staring at the two demons still standing with us—who are also glowing pink.

The big red bastard is the first to break the stand off, grinning as he slaps his friend on the shoulder, his massive clawed hand making a dull thud against his frame.

“Dude, you’re glowing.” His chuckle is deep, amused. Like this is all just some big joke to him.

The scarred one tilts his head slightly, gaze fixed upward, like he’s tracking something I can’t see. “That would be your snowy friend’s doing,” he muses, voice distant, eerily calm.

I follow his stare, but the sky is already changing again—the glow is dimming, darkening, receding into the void of the Evergloom’s natural shadows.

Whatever just happened… it’s already fading.

And that seems bad.

Rad seems to think so too, because his entire posture shifts—claws twitching, shoulders rolling forward, his tail lashing once, twice, like a predator scenting blood.

He takes a step forward, his usually lazy, amused expression wiped clean, replaced with something sharp. Lethal.

“What do you know?” His voice is a growl, guttural, rough. His claws—still dripping with the black sludge of the monsters he ripped apart minutes ago—flex at his sides.

The dark demon finally looks down from the sky, expression unreadable, head tilting just slightly in that unsettling, non-human way.

“Only that she seems to have tamed Death himself,” he answers. “And now, the realm wants her. All of her.”

Fucking demon riddles.

Rad isn’t having it either. He moves—fast, a blur of motion, claws outstretched, reaching for the scarred one?—

But he doesn’t connect. Because the big red one catches his arm mid-strike, massive fingers locking around his wrist effortlessly.

Rad snarls, his entire body going rigid, his tail lashing.

The red demon tuts at him. “Tsk, tsk,” he says, grinning wider, his massive horned head tilting. “Wouldn’t do that if I were you. Friends don’t threaten each other, do they?”

Rad’s lip curls, fangs bared. “We are not fucking friends.”

The big one just chuckles, deep and throaty, while the scarred one remains motionless, watching Rad like he’s still deciding whether or not he’s a threat.

I have no idea what the hell these two are, but I don’t like the way they watch. The way they already knew Parker had done something impossible before we said a word. The way they seem completely unbothered by the glowing veins of power still faintly pulsing in the ground beneath our feet.

“Tell me where she is.” Rad’s voice is dangerously low. Unhinged.

The scarred demon doesn’t flinch. Instead, he exhales, slow and measured, before finally speaking again.

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