Page 124 of The Demon's Discovery
I turned to the clergyman. “Please. I am not here of my own will. Don’t do this.”
He frowned, finishing his section before saying, “I am sorry, my lady.”
I bit off a curse, the vibration in my bones from his words getting worse.
“You’re not leaving here, Vos.” Ris approached him slowly, like he was trying to keep him from spooking.
“And you’re already too late to win this, cousin.” My captor turned to me, one arm out. “Your spawn is truly lovely, Ris. To think you nearly squandered her gift.” He inhaled as an orange glow started to creep around him. He turned, locating Vassago, who had murder in his eyes. “I’m sure she’ll make a wonderfully docile wife.”
My mate snarled but moved with purpose. His mist curled around his body, and I could feel him coiled tightly, ready to leap.
“Guards, kill them all!” Vos ordered, then vanished, only to reappear near the back of the room.
Everything turned to chaos. Swords clanged and the screaming of the noble families became louder than the clergyman, though he did his best to keep up.
Vassago and Rylan paired up to fight the six guards that had been stationed with the families. The two of them stood back-to-back, somehow fending off attacks from all six at the same time. I watched in awe as they struck and dodged, moving so fluidly it was like a well-choreographed dance. The guards who had been holding their own stood no chance at all.
The new brunet demon wasted no time running through two noblemen who tried to make a break for the doors, pulling oneof them to the floor with what looked like a tail wrapped around their ankle. Magnus was right there with him, dispatching two more who offered their wives or children up as shields.
One by one, they began to fall, nothing more than wasted talent and misplaced loyalty bleeding on the floor. Vassago turned his focus to my captor, whose laugh rang out every time anyone got close to him, only to blink across the room. I could barely keep track, his movement so fast and unpredictable it was like he never stopped moving.
The two men instructed to guard the clergyman hadn’t done more than blink as they watched their comrades fall. They only shifted their weight, ensuring that the clergyman kept talking with their blades directed at his chest.
Calla had somehow skirted around the room unnoticed and approached me from behind. A rope of green magic extended from her hand and wrapped around the clergyman’s throat, choking his words off into nothing more than a soft wheeze.
The guards turned to engage her, and Belmont flapped up, cawing loudly directly in their faces. Both waved their arms ineffectively as the massive bird dipped and dove for their eyes, fiercely determined to cause as much damage as possible.
She reached down through her pocket with her right hand, pulling out her blade. One of the guards abandoned his fight with Belmont and aimed his sword at her chest, but she was faster. She ducked under his arm and lodged her dagger in his ribs, yelling out as she did so.
Rylan’s head snapped over to her, his eyes wide. His expression softened when he found his mate not only whole but the victor, and he returned to his own quarry, driving his sword through the chest of the final remaining guard.
Belmont had fully gained the upper hand with only one target to manage and was flapping madly as he continued his assault. The man was bloodied, screaming as he stumbledtoward the windows and fell to his knees, his hands waving uselessly around his head. Somewhere along the way, he’d dropped his sword.
Familiar mist curled around my face, and Vassago appeared, kneeling next to me. His hand caressed my face. “Are you injured, Dragonfly? He’s dead, either way, I just need to know how much to make it hurt.”
“I’m alright. I can’t move though. He’s given me a compulsion. I can’t do anything unless he gives me direction.” Shame flooded me, even though I knew it wasn’t my fault. The rest of the men were still fighting, the noble families reduced to the matriarchs and children while my captor darted around the room, avoiding them all, an orange haze growing around him. Calla stood in front of the clergyman, both hands extended as her magic tightened around him like large snakes.
He went straight for his pockets, pulling out vials as he went. “Restoration, life, unmaking, fortification, cleansing.” He glanced at me. “Cleansing it is.” Vassago popped the cork and fed me the vial, the liquid cool as it ran over my tongue and down my throat. As I swallowed, I hoped for a far less eventful time of it than I’d had before.
The clergyman’s wheeze was beginning to taper. He was nearly purple but kept speaking. Likewise, the guard Belmont was managing had gone quiet.
“Are you also under a compulsion?” Calla asked him. He gave a vague head shake. “Then why do you not stop?”
“He’ll kill me if I don’t complete the ritual.”
“You’re dead either way,” she said sadly, shaking her head.
“Are you going to kill me, my lady?” he asked, something like pleading in his eyes.
A blade burst through the center of his chest, his eyes wide as he looked down in surprise, his hands groping at the foreign protrusion.
“Her hands will always remain as clean as possible, though clearly, she knows how to use them. But mine?” Vassago’s face, surrounded by wisps of mist, appeared next to the clergyman’s ear as he shifted the blade upward, causing the man to rise to his toes. “Mine have been filthy since the moment I fell, and I have no compunction about killing anyone who threatens my family.”
The clergyman made a gurgling noise as Vassago leaned in and tore out his throat before pulling his blade out. As Vassago rinsed his mouth with whatever was in the chalice at the center of the altar, the priest fell, wide-eyed and lifeless, to the floor.
“No!” the false king shouted in rage, his green eyes flashing before disappearing behind another jump.
White smoke appeared around me. Unlike before, no magical seal appeared at my center, thank goodness, though the smoke still went through several colors before I was free to move again under my own direction. I felt slightly fuzzy-headed as the remnants of whatever potion he’d given me finally wore off. “Thank the saints.” I tested my hands, marveling at the feeling of being in control again.
