"Wait, Liam has a guard?"
Izzy fell over; one of her wings gently hit me, but she didn't seem concerned. She was too busy giggling like the Izzy I used to know, and I could help but crack a smile.
Once she sobered, she said. "Yep, if anyone wants to go outside the fence, we have to take one of the Draconians with us. Believe me, Liam hasn't been too happy about it."
"What are the Draconians like? I mean Rafe seems normal enough, but Nicolai is a little stuffy. Are the others like that?"
"Eh, they're just like normal people, but hyped up on battle mojo. I guess some are a little controlling, but others are laidback. They're difficult to describe. Liam's with Ryder, who I guess is the worst of the bunch. He's kind of a drag. I swear, his face is frozen with a scowl on it. I don't think his facial muscles move!" Izzy brushed off her outfit and began walking towards the house, but I stopped her.
"Can we just have a few more minutes of peace before going back in? Out here, I can forget that most of my loved ones are either missing or dead. I don't want reality to set in just yet."
We spent the next hour circling the cottage while Izzy explained what I had missed. I had been unconscious for several days while the rest of them gnawed on their worry for me.
"Iz, do you think they're okay?"
She knew who I meant: Maye and Ash. I could see her processing the question, trying to decide how to answer it with tact. If they were dead, what did that leave me? The demon had been right when he’d said that their blood would be on my hands. How could I ever forgive myself?
Izzy blew out the air she had been holding. "I don't know. I want to say yes, but ... I think it's better to plan for the worst." I began to moan, agony engulfing me. I would have rather died on the battlefield than live without them.
Izzy added, "Although, given the odds, I'm sure some of them are okay." It didn't help. Losing even one of them would be hell.
We made our way back to the birdbath and I stopped her. "What's it like being a phoenix? And when did you get your voice back?"
Her head angled to the side, reminding me of how she had been when birthed from the ashes. "It's like growing up at an accelerated rate. One minute I was a toddler and the next I was back to being me." She smiled. "I'm grateful to talk again, though. I hated being so limited. Quite a few jokes were wasted because my delivery consisted of squawking."
"You never squawked. You just shrieked a lot." I playfully bumped her shoulder with mine, attempting to ignore the cavity in my stomach which wouldn't be filled until I knew the fate of my family.
By the time we walked back inside, the sun had gone down. Isis and a group of men were waiting in the living room, arranged on various furniture or milling about. Isis gave me a peculiar look but remained silent. I had a feeling that a verbal beating would be dealt out later.
Maloc stood at the stove, stirring stew in an enormous pot. After he spotted us, he turned the burner off and faced us, as if knowing we had something important to talk about. The others quieted down as well. The men in the room would have made any enemy cower. All of them were tall, and in some ways they reminded me of the Hellhounds, only male.
Izzy pointed to a platinum blonde with shamrock-green eyes. He was roughly of an average size, but with no shortage of muscle. "That's Ryder." He nodded and I saw what she meant about his lack of expression.
"I'm Cooper." A tall, lanky man, with light brown hair and eyes to match, graced me with a smile. Judging from the hat he was wearing, I guessed that he was one of the more carefree Draconians.
Another Draconian stepped forward; his teal eyes startled me against his dark auburn hair. "I'm Gabriel and this is Archer." He nodded to the man standing to his right. Archer was more unique than the others with shoulder-length hair in autumn shades, coupled with gray eyes.
In the rocking chair I spied a man with medium brown spiked hair and frosted tips. His eyes were black and he introduced himself as Julian. Then came Wolfe, whose hair had been dyed various unnatural colors. The last was Aidan, who I was told was the geek of the group. He seemed quiet, which suited his hazel eyes and brown hair.
"Hi everyone." My voice was small, intimidated by so much masculinity. "We have something to show you." Izzy read the piece of the prophecy and looked up at the others. The Draconian's stared back with unflinching gazes.
Then Isis began reciting the rest from memory, and I looked at her in shock.
"How did you remember that?"
Isis looked up from the pillow in her lap and around the room. "I have a good memory. It doesn't do us much good though. I don't know what it means."
Nicolai stepped forward, shocking me with his nearness, because I hadn't been aware of him behind me. "As above, so below, a child is born in a demon’s glow. The innocence of Heaven has been woven, she will be kept within a coven. Born of three, there is another, but first she must accept her true mother. The sight will grace her, but Death will follow, to leave behind naught but sorrow. Destruction litters her path, as eyes watch with baited breath. A game of chess will be played, to maneuver those who have been made. An angel’s spawn is yet a pawn. Denial is among the few, as one will betray anew. Allies and enemies will turn or flee, protecting the chosen one of their enemy. Torn in half, the world awaits this woman to decide their fate."
Nicolai's voice echoed through the cottage, creating a sense of uncertainty within me. His translation seemed to resonate, taking security with it and leaving doom behind.
Liam sat on the couch between two Draconians I had yet to meet. He shifted uncomfortably. "Savannah, I hate to say this, but it sounds like you. I'm pretty sure you're the only female on this planet born of three with an angel for a parent. Plus, you were raised in a coven and Death has stalked the ones you love." Liam looked apologetic, but he was voicing exactly what I had been thinking.
"It's okay. You're probably right." Suddenly, I felt lightheaded. The news that the fate of the world was in my hands was too much. Why couldn't I be normal? For once, it would be nice if I could rely on an average life with boring activities. Instead, demons had a way of hunting me and the people around me.
Nicolai caught me as my knees gave out. Murmurs of worry from the others made their way to me, but I couldn't sort through them. I needed to get away, to escape and allow myself to bask in denial. Thankfully, Nicolai brought me to my room and closed the door on my destiny, settling me against the pillows on my bed.
"I ... I could end the world? Me?" In hysterics, I jumped out of the bed and began pacing, Nicolai looking on. "How exactly do I do that? Here I am, trying to be good, trying to make the right choices, and I might destroy everything? Time and again, I promise myself to never become a monster, but it turns out I am the worst one in existence! You should just kill me now and be done with it, because apparently, I'm not worth saving." I stopped in front of him, my chest heaving with my tirade, gasping for breath.
At some point during my tangent, Nicolai had leaned his back against a wall to watch me losing it. "Are you done?" I nodded. "Good, now get back into bed. You need your rest, and I need to re-stitch your wound before you bleed out."
I looked down to find new blood marring my top, and it was quickly spreading. Nicolai crossed to the dresser and took a briefcase from the top drawer.
"Lay down." I did as he asked. "Lift up your shirt."
My mouth dropped open and I protested.
He said, "For crying out loud, I'm not going to have my way with you. I just need to get at your wound. Just expose your stomach."
My hands trembled as I lifted my shirt to display the bandage over my wound. I assumed it had once been a stark white, but now it was stained crimson. While Nicolai opened the briefcase, preparing the string and needle to sew my skin back together, I gently pulled my bandage off.
Once I saw the grotesque injury left from the impalement, I desperately wanted to turn back the clock. It was a ghastly red, swollen and bleeding. "Why didn't anyone heal me?"
Nicolai lifted a
curved needle, ready to stitch me back up, but paused, his eyes tearing into me. "Who would have done it? All your friends are injured or exhausted. The rest of us need to conserve our strength since you have demons on your tail. Now, quit with the questions and try to relax."
He busied himself repairing the damage that I had done to the skin that had barely begun to merge back together. His eyebrows drew together as he concentrated. "Quit staring," he said.
"What? I'm not supposed to talk or look at you?"
"I don't like it when people look at me. So, unless you want me going a little too deep with this needle, I suggest you play nice."
I sighed. "Izzy said that you saved my life."
"I told you as much. All of us entered the battlefield."
I winced when he touched a particularly raw area. "Yeah, but you're the one who found me, right? I was dead and you gave me your blood?" The needle momentarily stopped. "I just wanted to say thanks and that I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier...." I trailed off, uncertain.
"It's my job, it doesn't make you special. So spare me the hero worship." He cut the end of the string and placed a clean bandage over my injury. "If you really want to thank me for saving your life, stay out of my way."
He stood and walked to the door, leaving me in shock. All I’d done was say thank you and apologize, but he’d acted like I’d insulted him. Why did he go off on me like that? Was it a cultural thing? Maybe Draconians found it insulting to be thanked for their help?
"Nicolai?" He paused before opening the door. "I don't like being called a victim. Please don't do that again."
He looked back at me, nodded, and left.
I shook my head, falling back onto my pillows. I hated the word victim. Yes, technically I was one, but too often people had a way of forgetting that the victim in question was a fighter, a survivor. I knew that I had died; I was lucky that Nicolai had found me when he did. I owed my life to him, but I had gone down swinging. I hadn't cried in the corner, waiting to be dealt the ultimate punishment.
CHAPTER 15
WILLOW
Leaving the chaos behind, we sought out the nearest impound lot and Echo pinched a bus. We filed in, but the despair followed, lingering in the air around us and forcing us to breathe it in.
Vixen and Poison Ivy were able to stretch their legs now that we had a vehicle to keep up with them. Faster than cheetahs and clocking around 85 MPH, in little time, we came to a dead end.
They're nearby, Poison Ivy said, pacing the edge of the field. She was anxious to continue, but forced to wait for the rest of us two-leggers to catch up.
Echo stated the obvious. "We'll have to continue on foot."
I was grateful that I’d thought to wear a leather coat. I pulled it close against the cold night air. Though the bitter gust of winter’s threat still backhanded my cheeks and shriveled the skin of my neck, I preferred the rampage of the cold to the cramped bus, because now I could be secure in the fact that I was actively doing something. I hadn't enjoyed lazing about in a warm vehicle, pondering the fates of my loved ones.
I basked in my suffering, feeling less that I was betraying Savannah and Izzy. Misery loves company, but in my case it didn't need to force itself on me. I relished the agony if it meant I was lingering in the same emotional state as my friends. If I couldn't be with them in person, I wanted to be with them in spirit.
Less than ten minutes went by before the ground quaked and caved in. Whisper pulled me away from the yawning hole; Echo did the same with Ash. The other Hellhounds took fighting stances in front of me and Ash, as something appeared from the fissure.
What in the nine hells is that? Vixen thought, incuriously.
Unable to hear Vixen's internal dialogue, Ash said, "What the heck is that thing?"
Scrye looked back with black eyes. "A demonic general who served beneath your Archdemon. He's probably looking for vengeance."
It was larger than anything I had ever seen, and nearly made me envious of the days when all I needed to worry about was Asmodeus. Compared to the general rising from the soil, Asmodeus had been a cinnabun served on a hot plate. If this was what Savannah had faced at the compound, I had little hope that we would find her alive.
Its body writhed like a snake with spikes protruding from all angles. Though the body reminded me of a mutated anaconda, the upper half was more humanoid. Its torso was muscular, covered in the same scales as the lower half. It had the arms of a man, with thorns embedded in its shoulders. The eyes glowed yellow against the face of a man, and its teeth were too large for its mouth.
Four horns graced its head, the first pointed downward, pressed closely to each cheek, the other two horns protruding from its forehead, curving like a bull’s and thick as the tusks of a male elephant.
The tail held the torso up while it spoke down at us. "You think a litter of pups are going to prevent me from fulfilling my vow?" His voice was bottomless, combing through us and striking our eardrums.
Oh, you did not just say that, Poison Ivy spat in her Hellhound form.
"Why don't we find out?" Echo retorted. She had banished the nurturing tone I had grown used to. Now her voice was acid.
"Did I hurt your feelings, mutt? I'll make you a deal.” His eyes narrowed toward me and Ash. “Give me the young ones and I will allow you to leave freely."
"I don't think so!" Scrye screamed up at him.
Poison Ivy made the first move, sinking her teeth into the flesh of its tail, while Vixen tore at the demon’s eyes. Echo and the rest began to screech, evincing a wail from the demon as it covered its ears.
Opening my duffle bag, I grabbed a mace and handed Ash a spear. Then I ran forward in sync with the other Hellhounds. They shifted, but I remained in my usual form since I wasn't sure I would be much use in the other.
Vixen and Whisper focused on the demon’s face; the rest of us struggled with the tail. I threw myself onto the end of its wiggling form and hammered it with my mace. Echo used her claws to slice through the flesh and Ash darted back and forth, poking it with the spear. He called forth fireballs and threw them at the creature.
Our efforts seemed to be for naught. We caused it pain, but it recovered too quickly. We couldn't stop it, much less kill it. Suddenly, it sent me spiraling through the air, slamming me into a tree and knocking the breath out of me. Without oxygen, I couldn't move, giving me time to watch the events unfold. The others attacked the usual vulnerable areas, but this creature didn't seem to be equipped with a weakness.
Hellhounds were created to punish the souls of the dead, but demons didn't have souls, which meant that their usual methods wouldn't eliminate this demon. They were still incredibly powerful, but I was beginning to think that they were outmatched.
Frozen, I watched the others being beaten down. They had come to support me, but might end up dying for it. As they fought, their voices still rose, but the demon had acquired immunity to their unique weapon.
Vixen was the first to collapse. She lost her hold and was thrown to the ground. Then came Whisper, Scrye, and Echo. Echo limped to Ash, pulling him away from the fight. Poison Ivy was still attacking the demon’s head, one of its horns in her mouth. The demon reached up and pulled her off, his horn still held within her jaw. Poison Ivy landed hard, unmoving, but with her eyes wide open.
Reaching up, the demon felt the stump where his horn had been and screamed. "I'll rip you to shreds for that!" I willed her to move, but she seemed paralyzed. Her fur quaked under the demon’s gaze. She closed her eyes, awaiting death, and a single tear escaped.
Time stood still. Suddenly all my thoughts were banished, leaving me aware of only Poison Ivy, the demon, and myself. The fury I had felt during the ritual came back full force, confiscating reason, and directed towards a single target. Powered by bloodlust, intense hatred spread through me.
At some point during mine and Poison Ivy's bickering, I had developed a bond with her that I hadn't known existed. This thing was invoking an emotion I hadn't known sh
e was capable of. She was afraid and it made me furious.
Rather than fighting it, I gave in to the Fury, recognizing it as the Hellhound. The moment I did, an explosion built within me, as if I were about to spontaneously combust. The fire raged out of control. Suddenly, the demon burst apart, showering us with bits of flesh. Disgusted, I pulled matted gunk from my jacket.
Poison Ivy shifted to her human self and eyed me. "Maybe there's hope for you after all." It was the closest to a thank you that I would get, but I didn't care.
I covered her naked body with my jacket and she winced in pain. "Gee, thanks. You have a real knack for fashion: a leather jacket with demon remains spewed all over it. Just what I've always wanted."
"Way to go with thanking the girl who just saved all our asses, "Vixen retorted. Then she spotted the mush in her hair and cried out. "Hell's bells. What am I supposed to do with this?" She held up a chunk of matted hair for all to see. Then looked down at her outfit and moaned. "Anyone know how to get demon gore out of designer jeans?"
Noting that all of us had a serious wardrobe malfunction, Echo called forth the vortex and made a clothing run. She came back with a cart of merchandise that I suspected were stolen. Among the items I found water, dry shampoo, clothes, shoes, and deodorant.
I ended up in a red dress that I wouldn't be caught wearing under normal circumstances. Thankfully, it came to my knees and I was able to snag some knee high boots to cover the rest of my legs. Poison Ivy brought me my jacket after cleaning the grime off. Once on, my outfit was more modest, if a bit clubbish. Yet I was able to salvage some dignity.
"Where did you find this stuff, Hoochieville?" Vixen asked, holding up leather pants and a sheer halter top. Echo pointedly ignored her.
Once we were dressed, Ash cautiously turned around. He had faced away to give us some semblance of privacy while we cleaned off and dressed.
We continued tracking. Nightfall settled; the moon formed a soft crescent against the stars, providing minimal light. My vision and hearing had heightened since the ritual, allowing me to maneuver through the field and then the forest. Ash had to create a makeshift torch from a stick and shirt to light his way.