“Grab those powder pouches, too,” Aymon said, pointing at the COs’ belts. “Just don’t sniff them; they’ll knock you out in a second.”
“How do we know when it’s the right time for us to go up?” Tish asked, getting herself acquainted to a longsword’s ivory grip.
“There’s another set of mirrors mounted in a small vertical duct that connects the office ceiling to the second level,” Velnias said. “I’ll give you the green light once I see allies breaching the first-level defenses. The COs angled the mirrors at the top to give them a full view of the mountain base.”
I sighed, bracing myself for that moment. “The Adlet flare was launched. I’m guessing it’ll be another ten or twenty minutes before we go up.”
“Good. In the meantime, our friends here can drink some water and feed on some blood,” Velnias replied, then went back across the hall and opened a refrigerated storage room.
It looked dark and spacious, filled with tin pots and glass jars. The COs had used swamp witch magic to preserve the food supplies in there—both blood and actual food for the Imen. They needed them fed and hydrated if they wanted to consume their souls long-term. The idea sent shivers down my spine, but that storage came in handy now.
We needed our fighters in good condition—or as decent as possible, given the short notice they had prior to going to actual war.
One by one, the able-bodied prisoners had their previous mind-bending marks removed by Sienna. We needed their heads clear for this. They then retrieved nourishing portions from the storage room. Velnias brought the south gate down. If there were daemons coming through, we certainly weren’t going to make it easy for them. My only hope was that the other prisoners would get out before the daemons made their way toward the city. Their chances of survival were high at this point, since most daemon hunters were out after dark. Even with a war coming, hunters didn’t stop doing their jobs. Their people needed to be fed.
“Alrighty then,” I muttered, taking a deep breath.
Patrik gave me a soft, loving smile, then closed the distance between us and kissed me. The feel of his soft lips against mine instantly reinvigorated me. There was something about him that just pumped me full of energy, and I needed plenty of that for what lay ahead.
“We’ll get through this,” he murmured in my ear.
I dropped a kiss on his cheek, then grinned, brimming with confidence.
“We’d better! You need to take me out on a date or two. Or ten,” I replied.
“Would a thousand work?”
“An eternity?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He chuckled. “Even better.”
Provided we survived this, we were looking at an eternity together—also provided, of course, that Patrik would choose to turn vampire. The thought of watching him die of old age made my heart bleed. Sure, Druids had a ridiculously long lifespan, but he was my forever guy.
First things first, Scarlett.
With that in mind, I looked at the rest of our crew as they got ready for the fight. We were lucky to see so many of them still able to fight. At least half had been down here for decades, confined to their cells and cages.
Soon enough, they would see the outside world again. They would join us in our fight for freedom.
Hansa
As soon as the Exiled Maras and the daemons realized what was going on, we made our move. I whistled once, sharp and loud. Hundurr and Rover burst through the back door of the mansion and tore into the guards in the hallway. They then smashed the front door, wreaking bloody havoc outside. No daemon or Correction Officer could stand in their way. Their instructions had been clear before we’d come here.
Emilian scowled at me, baring his fangs.
“You’ve made the biggest mistake of your life, you silver-blooded wench!” he said, hissing.
I darted forward to attack but came to a screeching halt as Emilian snapped his fingers. The Iman girl standing in the doorway rushed to his side. He brought a knife up to her throat, sneering at us.
“Stay back!” Emilian commanded, then looked at one of his COs. “Ring the bell.”
The Correction Officer nodded and took out a small bell from his coat pocket. The rest of us were stuck in a tense standoff, weapons pointed at one another, while the pit wolves mauled the guards left outside.
More COs were bound to come up, but so was the rest of our crew. Our focus was the room we were in.
The Correction Officer rang the bell. Emilian sneered, pressing the blade against the Iman girl’s neck. He drew a droplet of blood, which he licked off. Footsteps rumbled through the house.
I froze at the sight of fifty Imen of different ages, both males and females. They came in from all over the mansion, entered the living room, and lined the walls, like obedient little animals. They’d been mind-bent into submission, and I feared the extent of their manipulation was going to get them killed in the middle of all this.
“What did you do?” I asked Emilian, menacingly raising my blade another inch, gripping it firmly with both hands as I pointed the tip at his head.
“Precautions, Hansa. How many innocent creatures will you allow to die here today?” Emilian grinned.
I scoffed. “Obviously, you’ve never been at war with a succubus,” I replied dryly. “You think using Imen as living shields will save you?”
Caia was the closest to the Imen on her side. She took a couple of slow, calm steps to her left and reached out to a young Iman. He looked pale and blank and was covered in a sheet of sweat.
“Don’t let them break you like this,” she said gently, trying the impossible. I couldn’t fault her for hoping she might get him to overcome his mind-bending. The fire fae was ambitious and relentless, just like her sister, Vita.
Emilian chuckled, then snapped his fingers.
The young Iman moaned, then produced a small blade from his pocket and slit his own throat. He collapsed to the floor and bled out in seconds.
Caia screamed with horror. Blaze pulled her back, growling at the Correction Officers and daemons who tried to make their move. Caia quickly snapped out of it and shifted her focus back to the hostiles. At least she’d let go of the idea of swaying the Imen out of their mind-traps. That wasn’t going to happen.
But something else about this situation had caught my attention.
“You can mind-bend without words,” Jax said, almost reading my mind. He narrowed his eyes at Emilian. The Lord bared his fangs once more.
“I’m a Lord for a reason, you pompous fraud!” Emilian spat. “You think you’re superior to us in any way, Lord of White City?” he added mockingly.
This was one of the moments when I truly regretted the absence of Jax’s wards. Even with one or two of them on his side, Jax would’ve broken any mind-bending influence that Emilian had on his Imen, without uttering a single word.
“Okay, so basically, you’re all cowards, hiding behind innocent Imen instead of coming out and facing us like the all-powerful champions that you claim to be,” I shot back.
“All is fair in war,” Rowan replied with a smirk, producing a short sword from a hidden crease in her dress.
“We’ll do whatever it takes to protect and preserve our way of life,” Farrah added, then put her hands out to her sides, allowing two long knives to slip out from her sleeves.
“Hm. I like this side of you,” Shaytan chimed in, crossing his arms. His sons had drawn their weapons, and so had his five guards, but he didn’t seem at all bothered or threatened. In fact, he looked entertained. We were putting on a good show for him. “I forgot you Maras could hold your own in a fight.”
“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet, Your Grace,” Emilian replied, gritting his teeth.
I chuckled. “At least we agree on that,” I shot back. “Jax, you know what you have to do.”
Jax nodded, then looked at the Iman girl, his jade eyes flickering gold. “Free yourself.”
The Iman girl sucked in a breath, then elbowed Emilian in the ribs.
The Lord doubled over from the pain, giving her the momentum she needed to get away from him and take several steps back. Rowan and Farrah were baffled.
“How did you—” Rowan tried to ask, but Jax cut her off.
“You thought you were the only capable Maras in this room?” He scoffed. “Hubris will be your downfall.”
It had taken a lot of mental strength for him to do what he’d done without his wards, but Jax could still override another Mara’s mind-bending, even though it was a short-term fix.
I didn’t wait another second. I went straight for Emilian’s head. He registered my move and brought out a second knife to cross with his first and block my broadsword from coming down hard. I kicked him in the stomach, then went at it again. Rage surged through me as I relentlessly attacked him.
The fight finally broke out and unraveled in the room, as Caia, Blaze, and Jax took on the others. I caught a glimpse of Shaytan slipping out of the room, along with Abeles. The other two, Garros and Mammon, stayed behind and went for Blaze—but the dragon’s fire breath was not to be toyed with.
I heard the pit wolves growling outside. Correction Officers screaming. Swords clashing.
Jax fought Rowan and Farrah as they tried to come at him from different angles. He was agile and light on his feet, blocking one’s hits while slashing at the other. I didn’t have the time to watch him in action, but I’d seen him many times before. Jax was the very definition of a graceful swordsman. Those two bloodsuckers didn’t stand a chance against him.
Emilian came at me, slashing at me with his knives in fast, repetitive motions, trying to cut me. I blocked every hit, taking several steps back in the process. The Correction Officers, along with Mammon, Garros, and their five daemons, closed the circle around us.
Blaze blew out a curtain of fire, aided by Caia. Several COs went down in flames, wailing and rolling on the floor in a desperate attempt to save themselves.
Caia produced her fire sword and went straight for the daemons. The little fae had gathered plenty of heat since she’d come to Neraka. This was the perfect time to let it all out.
The windows were smashed simultaneously as the rest of our crew forced their way into the mansion. Idris, Rayna, Wyrran and his Imen, Peyton and his Maras—they were all pouring into the mansion. Emilian, Rowan, and Farrah were stunned but couldn’t stop. They kept fighting back.
“Get them!” Emilian snarled.
The remaining Correction Officers moved to attack the newcomers. The Imen servants jumped in as well, but they were quickly disabled and rendered unconscious by Peyton’s Maras.
“Boy, am I glad to see you all!” I called out.
“The allies are coming!” Wyrran replied, blocking a hit. He swerved to the right and slashed at the CO’s side. Blood sprayed out, drenching him. More followed, as Wyrran delivered the final blow. “They’re less than a mile away!”
“Good,” I said, then launched another attack on Emilian.
He was quite spry for his age. More than twelve thousand years in this world had certainly worked to his advantage, as far as combat experience was concerned. I ducked to avoid one of his knives, then shot my leg out and crashed it into the side of his knee. I heard a bone break.
Emilian brought his other blade down. I faltered for a split second. It cost me. The knife cut into my forearm. I hissed from the pain, then jumped back up and delivered an upward blow with my sword.
“I’ll chop your head off for this!” Emilian hissed. “You continue to underestimate me! I’ve fought hundreds of thousands… millions of fiends! You’re just another scratch on the wall for me!”
I slashed at him again. I missed, but quickly spun into a 360-degree turn at a descending angle and caught him by surprise. My blade sliced through his thigh. He cried out from the pain and took a couple of steps back. Blood dripped from his wound, staining the wooden floor. Around us, swords continued to clash. Daemons and Correction Officers’ heads kept falling.
“And you really need to understand that experience with a million of your previous opponents mean nothing against a freakin’ succubus!” I growled, then moved in for the kill.
He blocked my hit, but my sword came down hard enough to crack his joints. I only had a few moments before his elbows and wrists would heal. I had to move fast.
Whatever happened, I couldn’t stop.
We all had to hold out and fight, tooth and nail, until the shield came down.
Whatever it takes.
Harper
After Zane and Heron came back, we replenished our invisibility spells and gave a scoop to Lumi, as well. The guys had gotten rid of the COs and remaining daemon guard the old-fashioned way—their blood was spattered all over the walls, their heads decorating the corridors.
We made our way out of the basement, steering clear of potential red lenses. We’d all put on black capes, just in case we had to go visible and get lost in a crowd again. It also helped with our extraction plan.
As soon as we reached the ground floor, we realized the war had begun. The alarms were ringing throughout the building. Battle sirens blared outside. The Adlet flare had been launched.
The resident Maras rushed down the stairs from the upper floors, grabbing swords and spears that the receptionists handed out. They’d gone from pleasure workers to soldiers in what seemed like a split second. They mind-bent the Imen into joining them outside, and they all proceeded to go down the mountain and join the defense lines.
“Good grief, the Imen don’t even want to fight,” I murmured, watching the servants run out with blank expressions, clutching knives and short swords, clubs and hammers.
“They don’t have a choice,” Fiona replied.
“Intruders!” one of the receptionists screamed.
I didn’t even spot her red lens, but she’d seen us, and she was pointing a finger at us. We’d stopped at the end of the corridor, where we’d disabled the two Correction Officers prior to sneaking downstairs.
“Crap,” I muttered, gripping my swords.
Both receptionists came out from behind their desk, accompanied by several COs and a handful of Imen. I dashed forward and threw out a barrier. The pulse knocked them backward. They all landed on their backs, the air knocked out of their lungs.
Caspian handled the Imen, mind-bending them and overriding their previous commands.
“Lumi, stay back!” I said. “We need you to preserve your energy. We can handle these fools.”
Fiona, Zane, Avril, Heron, and I fought the others, hacking and slashing until not a single fiend was left standing. Lumi stayed back, like I’d asked. Once they were all down, we looked around and noticed the Palisade was empty. They’d all gone to war.
There was a doubtful pang troubling my stomach.
“This feels a little too easy,” I breathed, putting my swords away.
“I think we deserve some ‘easy’ today, babe,” Fiona replied.
“Let’s go,” Zane said.
He took the lead. We followed. I looked over my shoulder and scanned the interior of the Palisade once more, using my True Sight. Some Imen had been left behind in the rooms, most of them females, and most of them not moving. They’d been drained and killed.
Rage flowed through my veins, red hot. I looked forward to tearing down this entire city, brick by brick, and erasing all traces of the Exiled Maras. Neraka had been cursed with the worst of plagues.
I put on my mask and goggles, ready for the sun.
I didn’t even realize that Zane had stopped in the doorway until I bumped into him.
“Dude, keep—” I wanted to say “keep moving,” but then I saw what had brought him to such a sudden halt.
We had company. The worst kind of company.
Shaytan and one of his sons, Abeles, stood outside, red lenses on. Behind them, lined up in a semicircle, were over two dozen daemon soldiers—the bigger ones, with meranium armor and extra-large blades. Boots thundered up the stairs.
For a moment there, I not
iced the frown on Shaytan’s face. He hadn’t been expecting company.
Correction Officers came up, their swords out and their red lenses on. They surrounded us and the daemons. They all looked at each other, equally displeased to share this space and, most likely, the swamp witch we were trying to sneak out.
“I take it you were going to snatch Lumi for yourself?” I asked Shaytan, my hands gripping my sword handles. My palms were already sweating.
I’d dreaded this moment, but, at the same time, part of me had hoped I’d get to keep my promise to Shaytan. Maybe this was my chance, after all. Shaytan grinned.
“You know me so well, darling,” he replied dryly.
One of the COs stepped forward, his expression firm, his brow furrowed. “Your Grace, I know our people have some issues to resolve, but please, let’s work together on this one. We cannot let the swamp witch escape.”
Shaytan rolled his eyes, then let out an exhausted sigh.
“Heron, go,” I whispered. “Back door.”
Two of us were supposed to get away if we ran into trouble. This was trouble multiplied by a thousand. They took advantage of Zane’s large figure still standing in the doorway and rushed back inside. There was a service door that had yet to be covered by the enemy, given that they were all gathered out front. Perfect.
“You know you’re not walking out of here with the witch, right?” Shaytan said, giving me a lazy grin. He then shifted his focus to Zane. His smile faded, replaced by a contemptuous sneer. “I should’ve killed you when you first helped these wretched fiends.”
“We both know you should’ve killed me long ago,” Zane replied, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he stepped forward.
Fiona, Caspian, and I kept our precious “asset” back. I quickly scanned the area; these were the only hostiles we were dealing with. Though they clearly outnumbered us, at least they were a finite quantity. Everybody else was rushing down to the ground level. From what I could see, the allied forces were yards away from the base of the mountain.