Page 74 of Destined for Eternity
The prince bellowed out a laugh. “You are a silly woman with silly thoughts.”
“No.” She shook her head. “As long as I play my part, you won’t win.”
Bartol couldn’t imagine what she meant by that. He flashed behind the demon and leaped onto its back. The pain in his jaw was brutal, but he had to ignore it. If he couldn’t injure the damn creature, he had to at least try extracting its essence. It wasn’t inhabiting a human body, so he wasn’t sure how it would work to kill it in its natural form, but Bartol saw no other way to take it down. People were going to die if they didn’t stop the prince soon.
Wrapping his arms tightly around the demon’s throat and his legs around its waist, he took a deep breath and pulled on his target’s energy with all his might. It was like trying to penetrate through tough armor with a toothpick. But to his relief, it only took a few moments to locate a weak point in the throat. A trickle of essence began to flow into him. He held on tightly as the prince bucked and spun, attempting to shake Bartol off of him. The wild ride jarred his wounds and made the extraction that much more difficult. With each jerk, the flow was interrupted. Bartol had to concentrate to retain what little energy he’d pulled so far and not let the demon have it back again. From experience, he knew he’d need to draw out at least half before his opponent began to weaken. He was a long way from that point.
Zoe rose to her feet again, sword in hand. “I’m not done with you yet, demon.”
Bartol could only catch glimpses of her as the prince spun him round and round. He couldn’t believe the foolish woman was still fighting and not running.
“Why are you helping me?” he asked in a garbled voice. His shattered jaw was healing, but slowly.
The demon stopped spinning to claw at Bartol’s arms. The tips cut deep, gouging his skin and drawing profuse amounts of his blood. He breathed through the pain and willed himself to hold onto his opponent’s neck. It wasn’t easy with his forearms getting shredded.
“For one,” Zoe said, slashing at the creature’s hands to make him stop hurting Bartol. “I’m hoping it will get me in my daughter’s good graces. For two, one of the nerou predicted I must play my part in this battle if we are to succeed.”
The prince snarled and clawed at her next.
“It could be the death of you,” Bartol warned.
Zoe ducked and rolled, finding a rhythm against the demon that kept her from getting torn apart. “I know.”
She’d done so many terrible things in life that he could hardly believe she’d bother trying to redeem herself now. Could the woman truly be that desperate for her daughter’s acceptance? He supposed he could understand that now that he was a father, but he wasn’t an evil lunatic like Zoe. Rebecca had made it clear she wouldn’t be seeing or talking to her mother often after learning about her mom’s many atrocities. Ironically, one of them was summoning a demon prince a few years back that had nearly killed Melena and Lucas.
Bartol drew out a little more essence before the demon jostled him hard, knocking one of his hands away. Bull riding would have been easier. Zoe was keeping their enemy distracted with taunts and strikes of her sword, but the creature made such jerky movements as it dodged and fought that it wasn’t easy to stay on the large, eight-foot-tall frame.
The pain in Bartol’s face had waned several degrees. He worked his jaw, finding the bone was starting to knit back together. “Keep him steady for me!”
“Easier said than done.” She dropped to her knees just in time to avoid a harsh blow to the head. “It’s like fighting a bear.”
The sound of shifting rubble drew Bartol’s attention toward the main compound building. Tormod rose out of the fallen debris, shaking dust and pieces of timber off himself before running his gaze across the battlefield. He had a nasty wound on his head and cuts all over his arms, but a determined look came over his violet eyes when he spotted the prince. The demon was going in circles with Zoe while Bartol drew what essence he could when his grasp was tight enough.
Finding his sword on the ground, Tormod grabbed it and ran to join them. When he was a mere ten feet away, Zoe flew right past him to land hard on the ground, clutching her ribs where they’d just been pulverized. Raising his blade high, the nerou aimed the point directly at the prince’s face. Bartol—still clinging to the demon’s back—ducked his head. A squishing sound came next. When he glanced back up, the end of Tormod’s sword was protruding from the prince’s right eye. The creature screamed, yanking the blade out and tossing it far away.
“You will pay for that!” it bellowed.
Tormod grinned, then turned to run toward an open field away from the rest of the battle. The fighting was getting too close to them. A handful of demons had made it into the compound and were fighting the angels and nerou near the stage. Tormod was smart to lead the prince away from everyone else so they could keep their opponent from hurting others.
“Come and get me, you bastard,” Tormod taunted.
The demon snarled and followed the nerou, shaking the ground with its huge feet. Bartol bounced along, gritting his teeth against the pain of his injuries being jostled. There was no way to extract essence until his target stopped moving. He dared a glance back and spotted Zoe rolling over to grab her sword. She leaped up and started to run after them, but there was too great a distance between her and the field.
After going a few steps, the woman disappeared in a flash of light and reappeared much closer. A determined expression came over her face as she got her bearings. She dove forward across the ground and slashed at the prince’s Achilles tendon. Bartol fought to hold on as the demon faltered from her strike and crashed to its knees. The creature roared and pawed at the grass. Bartol drew more essence for the next few moments until his target noticed what he was doing and tried to buck him off.
Zoe sliced at the demon’s large nose, drawing out a spray of black blood that spread everywhere. “How do you like that, ugly guy?”
The prince leaped toward her. Zoe flashed a short distance to the right while Bartol clung to their opponent’s neck. He took a little more essence while the demon searched for the female nephilim.
“Over here, snub nose,” Tormod said from the left.
The creature angled toward them like an enraged bull, swinging left and right as it tried to choose who to attack. Bartol held on the best he could and took whatever essence he was able to extract as they bought him time. His helpers took turns provoking their enemy and drawing the demon one way or the other without giving it an easy opening to strike them. They took an occasional claw to their leg or arm but nothing serious.
The distraction worked well enough that Bartol’s job became easier as the prince forgot about his presence. He could hold on tighter and wasn’t being constantly bucked. Even his jaw had a chance to finish healing, and the skin of his forearms was knitting back together. Without as much pain and discomfort, he was able to pull harder on the essence and speed up the flow. There was still quite a lot to take, but he had hope at this point he might finish.
Eventually, though, the demon’s tendon injury healed and it found its feet again. The bullish creature rose to its full height. Bartol flexed as gravity once more pulled on his arms, and he had to grip the prince’s neck much harder to stay on him.
Tormod stood a few paces away with his sword raised, waiting to see what their enemy would do next. There was no fear in the nerou’s eyes. Even after tasting the brunt of the demon’s strength, the young man didn’t show any hesitation. Bartol wished he could help in the fight, but he had to keep extracting the essence. It was flowing more quickly now and overwhelming him. His vision was starting to turn red with the raw power of it. The energy was incredible and highly seductive. Bartol couldn’t help but use a little for himself to give him an edge. As his strength grew, the demon’s waned a little. Their relationship became symbiotic until he wasn’t even sure where one of them ended and the other began. He doubted his opponent knew, either.
