Page 48 of Ruthless Demon

A roar of raw power and fury shakes the walls as I hit the floor. Instinctively, I shrink into myself, curling up like a trapped rabbit in the face of a hungry wolf. Inside, my heart is leaping for joy. I know that roar. I look up just in time to see Lucifer in all his demonic glory flying down the hall like a fallen angel of vengeance. The demon on my back barely has time to squeal before he’s taken in Lucifer’s talons.

Lucifer hits him only once, then smashes him against the wall. The demon’s feet are kicking helplessly in the air. Lucifer’s talon-tipped hand is wrapped around the demon’s throat, pinning him to the wall at eye-level. The demon reeks of piss and terror.

Good.

Chapter22

Lucifer

Fury lances through me.I’m barely keeping it in check, and why should I? Someone tried to hurt my Sophia.Again.Someone sent an assassin to kill her.Again.I should crush the life out of this one just like I crushed the life out of that damned snake. The only difference between this animal and the last is that this animal is capable of conscious reason and speech. A smile spreads across my face as I collar the demon and release his throat. His eyes roll in terror as I grip his tunic in both fists.

I growl as I speak, taking pleasure in the visual prickles of fear rippling across the demon’s skin. “Who sent you?”

He shakes his head. I pull him away from the wall and slam him into it again, making his teeth rattle and his head rock on his shoulders.“Who sent you?”

“Okay, okay,” he whimpers. “Just—just put me down, I’ll tell. I’ll tell.”

I lower him to the ground. He tries to brush me off, then tries to twist away. I let him think he won, let him try to run, and catch his ankle in mid-stride. Using his own momentum, I whip him over my head and lazily let the centrifugal force take him to the ground. His head bounces a few times. A brownish tooth clatters across the corridor, half-rotted and gnarly. I jerk him back up, dangling him upside-down in front of my face.

“That was fun. Let’s go around again.” The demon screams, shaking his head, sprinkling blood all over like a damned ritual. “No? Then you’re ready to talk? Excellent.” I toss him overhead, wait for him to turn right-side up, then catch him by the collar on his way back down. He chokes, bug-eyed, all his limbs flailing until I allow his feet to touch the floor again.

He takes a few breaths. The way his eyes keep darting all over the place tells me he’s about to run again. I outrank him in every possible way, in power, stature, and sheer brute strength, and yet he’s still resistant. There’s no way out of this for him if he doesn’t talk, and he knows it. What possible threat could be more intimidating to a short-sighted creature than my fury?

“Speak,” I order him. “Tell me everything you know.”

“I was hired to…”

His voice stops in a gurgle and his eyes bulge. Has my fury clouded my perceptions so much that I don’t even feel myself strangling the beast? No. Whatever’s choking him is coming from inside. After a moment he wheezes, then gratefully takes a full breath.

“Don’t kill me,” he begs. “I’m trying. I was… ungh… I was… supposed to… do something… to the lady.”

His words barely make sense, and it seems like each one takes enormous effort.

“Who hired you?”

He licks his lips nervously and shifts his weight from one foot to the next. “I can’t,” he wheezes. “I was ordered to—”

His tongue bulges out, smothering his words. He croaks, clawing at his throat, eyes popping so far I can see the light shine through them when he turns to the side. He falls to his knees, pounding the ground with one fist and clawing at his throat with his other hand. He’s beginning to tear his flesh. If he tears out his own vocal chords, I’ll never get my answer.

“Enough,” I growl as I twist his clawing hand away from him. “Don’t speak.”

Relief renders him limp. A few moments pass, then air whistles through his swollen throat once more. As his breath and strength return, I crouch low, on eye level with the wretched little beast.

“Don’t speak,” I say again. I pinch one of his clawed fingers between mine and press the sharp tip into the glossy wood floor. “Scratch. All I need is a name.”

He’s into this idea, and immediately puts his weight into it, pushing his claw through the thick wax coating. I’m watching his claw, waiting for it to move. A name is all I need, but I can work with a letter. A picture, even. But even as he flexes his finger to make the first stroke, a squawk of agony squeezes through his throat. His hand seizes, curling in on itself until his claws pierce his own skin.

“No! Not until you give me a name! Push through it, damn you!”

I drag him up to my eye level once more, determined to get something out of him. I’m shaking him, giving him direct orders, but it doesn’t do any good. His other hand curls up. His eyes are wide with terror, and his tongue barely falls back into his mouth before his jaw locks itself closed. He starts to shake, out of sync and out of control. His head lashes from side to side, his legs curl up on themselves. He’s imploding, every part of his body drawing in to a point near his navel.

Frustration burns hot in my core as I watch his face turn every shade of red, then purple. It doesn’t take long for it to turn a bloated, mottled shade of blue-gray. Disgusted and furious, I hurl the useless body to the ground. Sophia watches me from a few feet away, her gaze even and steady in spite of the blood running down her arm.

The blood…

She’s hurt.

The cretin spilled her blood. I want to tear this palace apart brick by brick until someone atones for this crime against her, and for a second my eyes are full of fire and bloodlust. Mindless rage is pressing against my temples, threatening to take my mind and steal my senses. I swallow it, forcing it down; I need to use my head.

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