Page 8 of The Fallen
Orson screams. There’s blood everywhere. Without thinking, I swipe my fingers through the dark crimson liquid. Magic tingles just under my skin as I quickly trace the ancient symbols on the floor and begin to chant. I shouldn’t use dark magic, but I can’t think straight. If this is the last thing I do before I die, I’ll do it.
I’ll do anything to save my little brother. Fucking Kudo points if I take down this asshole in the process.
A cold wind whips through the warm room. My prison goes from stifling hot to bone-chilling cold.
“What the fuck have you done?” Orson whispers next to me, clutching at his side. The blood has already stopped seeping from his skin; a spell, no doubt. But he’s too weak to do anything other than lay there and not die. Bastard.
The wind whips at our faces, and with a pop, silence descends on the room. I can’t hear anything but my heart pounding in my ears.
Movement in the corner of the room catches my eye. An eerie figure hovers there. A creature wrapped in shadows and smoke, floating. Watching. Its glowing crimson eyes snapping between Orson and me.
A strange, distorted clicking sound comes from the creature's mouth.
Orson trembles, but I smile in triumph.
“Autumn is safe.” I glance over at Orson. “You’ll never hurt him or anyone else again.”
With that, the creature launches forward. Blackness takes me under, but not before I hear the haunting melody of Orson’s screams surrounding me.
When my eyes flutter open,the first thing I see are the eyes of an angel. There’s no other way to describe the beauty in front of me. With golden eyes that almost glow in the darkness of the room, I’m just barely able to make out my surroundings. But I see them.
They’re breathtaking.
“Am I alive?” Have I died and gone to heaven?
The angel’s face softens, giving their already cherubic look an innocent quality that seems to push all my buttons.
I blink.
It’s been a long time since I felt the hint of arousal.
“You’re alive, pretty witch. Barely. I need you to hold on for me, sweetheart. I called in reinforcements.”
“Reinfor–”
“Hush now. Save your energy. I’ve healed as much of you as I could. Any more and it would drain my power from my life force.” They give me a weak smile.
Life force? That’s strange. “Aren’t you a witch?” A witch draws magic from spells, potions, or the elements around them. We don’t pull magic from within. Only demons do?—
Memories of Orson and his blade slam into my mind’s eye. The threat to my brother. Me stabbing the asshole. The blood. So much blood. The demon. Orson’s screams.
I swallow hard. “Is Orson still alive?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Is that the man who did this to you?” The demon’s eyes flash, changing from gold to crimson.
I start trembling in fear. Only, I don’t know if it’s because of the creature in front of me or the thought of Orson being alive.
The demon caresses a shadowy hand over my face. I try to flinch back, but I’m still too weak. The sensation of their shadows hitting my skin sends chills up my spine. Not quite unpleasant, but something…strange.
“He’s dead. Died a splendidly painful death.” Their eyes glow even brighter, almost dancing with excitement.
My gaze is still focused on their translucent hand. What the fuck did I summon?
They must see the fear in my eyes because as soon as they notice what I’m staring at, they tense. “I’m sorry, little human. I pushed myself too far, trying to heal you. You were almost dead. I need to stay in my shadow form for now.”
“Why—” I cough, turning on my side and spitting up blood. “Why did you save me?”
“You were almost dead,” they repeat. “Death can’t have you. You’re mine,” they growl.
