Page 43 of Seducing Hope (The Hope Legacy)

I blink. Duncan always knows the languages, even the demonic ones we sometimes come across. Aaden snaps photos of the symbols. Examining the body further doesn’t reveal any obvious cause of death. I repeatedly circle the crime scene, scrutinizing every inch of ground for evidence, and find nothing. John leaves to respond to another call, and we agree to meet for the autopsy findings tomorrow.

With thirty minutes to spare, we decide to take a wider look at the street. Aaden and Zee go left, while Duncan and I turn right. Two hundred meters from the crime scene, I spot a little girl about four years old dressed in flannel pajamas walking on the opposite sidewalk, crying out for her mommy. I jog toward her, but she runs away, her dark curls bouncing and slippers squeaking.

“Hey, sweetie, it’s okay. Let’s see if we can find your mom,” I call out.

She ignores me, scampering down an alleyway.

Following her to the mouth of the alley, the hairs on my arms prickle with the presence of power. “Why do things always lead down a dark alley? Why not a meadow full of flowers?” I ask Duncan, as he joins me in the narrow, claustrophobic space.

We emerge into a large, well-kept communal garden surrounded by tall trees. Duncan laughs. “Not quite a meadow, but close.”

My eyes scan the garden for the missing little girl. Sunlight dances across the grass and through the leaves of the evergreen trees. Several white wooden benches surround the open area. It’s a small paradise in the city. The air currents shift, twisting and racing over my palms. I whip around as three enormous Renevate demons appear from behind the trees, muscly chests bare, legs cloaked in billowing, dark trousers. Their short, spiky, white hair crowns a blocky head and is a stark contrast to their naturally black skin. Milky eyes study us as they spread out, circling us.

Awesome—because my day didn’t have enough excitement already. “If I’d known I had a wish today, I wouldn’t have wasted it on agriculture.”

Duncan chuckles. “Aw, Locks, not scared of a few Renevate demons, are you?”

“Nope, just marveling at the universe’s sense of humor, and my ribs still ache from the cuddle the last one gave me.”

Renevate demons are fast, strong, and committed to killing their target, even if it means their own deaths. They’re always controlled by a more powerful being. But the big problem is the two sets of hands; they hold you with one set while strangling you with the other. I curse under my breath—I’ve left my swords back in the car, meaning hand-to-hand combat is inevitable.

“Great… Dip, Dippy, and Dippier,” I quip as I spin in a circle.

Duncan gives me a half smile. “Which one do you want?” I give them a once-over. The largest is the one on the right—Dippier. The other two are a little smaller.

I point out the largest one. “I’ll take Dippier.” He flashes me his white, razor-sharp teeth in what I think is his attempt at a smile, but the grimace more closely resembles a rabid dog.

Duncan pulls a small dagger out of his boot and hands it to me. “Good choice, Locks. He seems the most pissed off.”

Spoiling the plan, Dippy launches himself toward me.

Dip runs at Duncan. Seems like my original target is either the leader or a wimp.

Sprinting toward Dippy, I drop to my knees and slide across the grass at the last second.

Leaning back and pushing the dagger up, I tear through Dippy’s abdomen and miss being covered in demon guts by millimeters.

Rolling to my feet, I stand in one fluid motion and shout to Duncan, “Remember, it’s your turn!”

He chuckles. A power bolt breezes past me in a blare of crackling blue light and buries itself in Dip’s face.

A wave of blood splatters the white wall with crimson in a gruesome, vivid contrast.

My face is still sizzling from the heat of the blast, like I’ve spent too long in the sun.

“You dare singe my eyebrows, and I’ll chop off your—”

Dippier throws his fist toward my face.

I duck and bring my leg up at an almost one-hundred-and-eighty-degree angle, kicking his head. My foot bounces off his skull, unbalancing me.

“Are these guys made of concrete?” I shout at Duncan.

Dippier takes advantage of my wobbling and wraps an arm around my throat.

Twisting my body, I hammer my elbow into his solar plexus. He grunts but doesn’t let go.

Wrapping his other arms around me, he pins me to him. It’s my turn to grunt. I expand my chest, giving me more time before he cuts off my air. Duncan stalks toward me, calmly assessing the situation. He can’t throw one of his magic balls (yes, I just said that), as the demon is behind me. My lungs burn as my body begs for oxygen, and my cracking ribs complain.

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