Page 12 of The Demon and the Broken Girl

Daeva signals for us to stay low. I clutch Silas’s arm and press my back against the damp earth of the ravine wall. A few battered ferns partially obscure my silhouette. My breaths come in shallow bursts, each one carrying a silent prayer that we remain unseen.

Up on the ridge, figures flicker between the trees—dark elves in black-and-red riding gear, crossbows slung over their backs. My heart thunders. There are at least three of them, maybemore. One holds a chain leash, at the end of which a hulking hound-like creature strains, its snout sweeping the ground. My blood goes cold at the sight.

Jenna stifles a gasp. I clamp my hand over her mouth, trying to keep her quiet. We exchange terrified glances: the dog is some breed I don’t recognize—sleek, obsidian fur with glowing red eyes. A demon hound? Or something close to it.

The lead rider reins in, surveying the forest. His voice resonates above us. “They can’t have gone far. The tracks lead into the trees here.”

Another rider responds, “Then we spread out. The Overseer wants them alive, or at least able to speak. One of them has secrets Tovel needs to know.” A small pause. “And that demon… She wants him captured or killed.”

Hearing that word—demon—applied to Daeva cements the truth, if there’d been any doubt. Daeva stiffens, eyes narrowed. The dog on the chain barks, an eerie, hollow sound that makes my stomach lurch. It’s smelling us.

I see Daeva clench his jaw. He steps quietly around the log, looking at me with an intensity that saysbe ready. I realize, with dawning horror, that we might not avoid a confrontation.

The hound’s nose twitches, then it lunges toward the ravine, dragging its handler forward. The elf curses, fighting to keep hold of the chain. “Something’s down there!”

My heart seizes. We have no cover if they come down. The only way out is the way we came, or up the other side, but that would expose us to the archers.

Daeva lifts a hand, dark energy coiling around his fingers. My mind flashes back to the catacombs, how he subdued that guard with terrifying ease. But can he handle multiple armed elves and a demon hound at once?

We’re about to find out.

The lead rider barks a command, urging the group to dismount. Within seconds, three elves and the hound creep toward the ravine’s lip, crossbows ready. The hound whines, sniffing the air frantically.

Jenna trembles so badly I fear she’ll scream. Cole looks ready to bolt. Ryn clutches a broken tree branch, as if it could do any good against a crossbow.

I glance at Silas, and his eyes shine with determination. “We fight or we die,” he mouths, and I nod. My trembling hand gropes at the forest floor for a rock or anything that can serve as a weapon. My fingers close on a fist-sized stone, and I grip it so hard my knuckles ache.

A final shuffle of boots on dirt—then an elf peeks his head over the ridge, crossbow at the ready. His eyes land on me, widening. “Down there!”

He fires immediately, and I shriek, throwing myself sideways. The bolt whistles past my ear, splintering against rock. Chaos erupts as the hound leaps down the slope, snapping its jaws, red eyes fixed on us. Silas hurls himself in front of me, arms raised, but the creature is enormous.

A blur of white hair and black markings slams into the hound: Daeva. He moves faster than I can track, driving a wave of darkness into the beast. The hound howls, momentarily stunned, but not dead. Its eyes flare with fury as it snaps at his arm.

Another crossbow bolt whizzes into the ravine, striking the log near Daeva’s shoulder. Splinters burst into the air. He hisses and unleashes a surge of power that crackles like black lightning along the forest floor. The hound’s legs buckle, foam spraying from its maw as it thrashes.

Then the elves scramble down, swords drawn. My chest tightens as I realize how outnumbered we are. Ryn lunges at one elf with a desperate roar, brandishing his branch. The elfsidesteps easily, delivering a ruthless kick to Ryn’s ribs. He topples with a grunt of pain.

Silas picks up a fallen crossbow bolt and charges another elf, brandishing it like a dagger. It’s a wild move, lacking technique, but the elf is momentarily shocked. Silas manages to scratch the elf’s cheek, drawing blood before he’s knocked aside.

I heft my stone. Adrenaline surges, clearing my head. I dart forward, swinging at the sword-wielding elf before he can strike Ryn again. The stone slams into the side of his helm with a sickening crunch. He staggers, cursing, and whirls on me, blade raised.

Time slows. I see the sword arcing downward—no chance to dodge. I squeeze my eyes shut, expecting agony. But a flash of black intercepts him—Daeva’s arm collides with the elf’s sword, bare-handed, and somehow he deflects it. Sparks dance where metal meets demonic power.

He shoves the elf away with a scowl. The man skids across the muddy ground, boots digging a furrow. The forest echoes with the clamor of steel and panicked yells. The hound tries to stand again, shaking off the dark lightning, its eyes rolling with murderous intent.

Jenna and Cole, both unarmed, back away, attempting to evade the chaos, but one elf notices them. He levels a crossbow at Jenna, eyes narrowed. There’s no time for me to warn her. The bowstring twangs.

She drops with a wail, clutching her shoulder. Blood stains her ragged tunic. Cole kneels, shouting her name. Dread hammers in my chest—I have to help, but I’m practically defenseless.

Daeva sees this, and something cold and merciless flares in his gaze. He raises a hand toward the crossbowman. A surge of black energy crackles from his palm, hitting the elf dead-on. The man screams, voice cutting through the air as the darknessenvelops him. I can’t see exactly what happens—there’s a swirl of inky mist, and then the elf collapses, frosted with ice crystals that rapidly melt to water. He does not rise again.

In that moment, the hound lunges at Daeva from behind, jaws aimed at the back of his neck. My breath catches. But Daeva pivots at the last second, driving a knee into the hound’s flank and gripping its fur with inhuman strength. He channels darkness into the beast’s body, and it spasms violently before going limp, eyes rolling back.

Breathing hard, Daeva drops the creature. The second elf tries to rally, but a combination of Silas’s frantic assault and a savage blow from Ryn’s branch knocks him to the ground. I scramble over to Jenna, who’s whimpering in pain, and press a hand against her bleeding shoulder.

“Stay still,” I mutter. My heart is racing, but at least she’s alive. Cole tears a strip of cloth from her tunic to form a makeshift bandage.

Moments later, silence settles in the ravine—broken only by Jenna’s choked sobs and the wet cough from the elf Ryn struck. We stand, battered and breathless, over the carnage: two elves presumably dead, one groaning in the mud, the hound lying motionless.

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