“I’ll catch fire, turn to ash and re-form... I’ll be stronger...and you’ll be forever mine.”
“No,” he growled. No. He wouldn’t believe it.
A laugh sounded in the distance.
He swung around, fighting another wave of dizziness and watching as a shadow slunk from the roof of the building next to him and down the wall. Red eyes glowed from the center of the darkness. Another shadow followed, and then another. Then shadows began to slink from the roof of the other building.
Demons.
So many, more than he could count. Perhaps more than he could fight on his own, but he relished the challenge. To leave was to invite them to hurt the humans nearby.
“The pretty boy has been searching for me, I hear,” an evil voice proclaimed. “He wants to punish me for helping to slay his precious king.”
A chorus of chuckles echoed.
Thane stepped into the spirit realm and grabbed his sword of fire, the flames producing a crackling yellow-and-blue light far hotter than the ones found in hell, for it was pure. The creatures looked like motor oil that had been mixed with blood and congealed. They were blobs—and they were dangerous.
“I’ll kill you,” he vowed through clenched teeth. The dizziness had magnified rather than faded, and he was having trouble staying on his feet. Falling...falling...no, catching himself, once again leaning against the building.
“Let’s find out,” the evil voice cackled. “Last one standing wins.”
Each shadow slithered from the buildings, soaring through the air, and aiming for Thane.
He twirled his sword to his left, his right, and arced through the center, slicing several creatures through the stomach. The shadows sizzled and hissed, but none fell from the air. They continued to come at him. He palmed a dagger with his other hand, but the metal did no damage, whisking through and causing the creatures to laugh more heartily.
A breeze blew behind him, and he knew something was trying to sneak up on him.
He flared his wings, knocking several shadows away from him, and hurtled into the air, flipping over the creatures that had thought to take him from behind. More shadows converged. He struck, taking what constituted heads. Rather than fall, however, they vanished.
Thane knew it would be better to remain in perpetual motion, never allowing anyone to get a lock on him. He darted to the side of a building, then to the other side, then to the ground, then to the roof, sword constantly swinging. They followed him. Three times he almost fell. Once he hit his knees, but he managed to bounce back up.
Suddenly Bjorn flew into view, followed by Xerxes. Both men landed at his sides, flanking him. He was so overcome with relief he willingly dropped to his knees.
“You don’t call, you don’t write,” Bjorn said, leaping into motion, his sword of fire already drawn and swinging.
“Tried,” he gritted. “Couldn’t get through.”
“After what we had to give up to get here, after what we had to do to find you, you owe us,” Xerxes said, swiping at the shadows with short swords.
“I’ll gladly pay the toll.”
“The minions of strife,” Bjorn said. “Always picking fights. Let’s give them a spanking.”
They split up, dividing the attention of the creatures, leaping, diving, flying this way and that, flipping, kicking, punching, but only the sword of fire caused any damage. One of the creatures finally managed to wrap itself around his head like a dark blanket, suffocating him.
Screams, screams, so many screams. They scraped at his ears, assaulted his mind. He thought he heard his friends shouting in the background, but...but...the screams, so loud, so loud, and they were his own, he realized, coming from him, from his past, from his present, blending together, bleeding so much, soaking him.
All too soon, scenes from his past sprang up and joined the party. The women he’d bedded and left. The humans he’d killed simply to get to demons. The warriors he’d betrayed after his return from the demon dungeon. The times he’d laughed when he’d wanted to cry.
Then suddenly, a blaze of light erupted and the darkness left.
Thane fell forward, landing on his face. He blinked rapidly, the haze around him slowly thinning, even as blood dripped into his eyes. He saw Xerxes and Bjorn, still fighting the shadow creatures, going low, straightening, taking out ankles and knees to hobble. The two warriors stayed close, shielding Thane as best they could.
Must have landed on the Phoenix, he thought. That had to be her still-warm skin cushioning him—no, not warm, but hot. Too hot. Somehow, in death, she was heating up, about to catch fire, all on her own.
Just as she’d promised.
One of the shadows slunk over, staying low, darting out of the way anytime Bjorn or Xerxes struck, and managed to latch on to Kendra’s bare leg. The creature laughed manically—just before Xerxes beheaded it.
The shadow vanished, and Thane saw that a flame had finally sparked at the end of Kendra’s toe. That flame intensified, spread. Soon, her entire foot was engulfed. Her ankle. Her calf.
The enemy thinned and the remaining few realized they couldn’t win and backed up. They attached themselves to building walls and slithered up, up and over the roof.
Cowards!
Thane scrambled away from Kendra’s body. Her thighs were the next to catch flame, then her torso, her arms, her chest. Her face. Her hair. Every inch of her was doused, crackling—and then she was gone, ash floating through the air.
She would re-form. She’d promised that, too. She would be stronger.
He would be her slave.
Every ounce of his being rejected the notion.
Xerxes stomped to Thane’s side. “You all right, my man?”
His voice sounded far away. Thane tried to open his mouth to speak but he didn’t have the strength.
Bjorn took a step toward him, stopped and frowned. He looked down at his wrist, where there was a black scratch, then back to Thane. Confusion gleamed in his rainbow eyes. His frown deepened. His knees collapsed.
Xerxes popped up to race to him, but—
Bjorn vanished.
Vanished as if he’d flashed—an ability he didn’t possess. Or, as if someone or something had flashed him.
“What just happened?” Xerxes shouted. “Bjorn. Bjorn!”
Thane struggled to sit up. His friends. He had to help his friends. They were the world to him. Meant everything. He was nothing without them. But the dizziness returned, flooding his head, and weakness spilled into his limbs, and he could only lie there, panting—until he blacked out.