Demon Lost by Connie Suttle Page B

yellow citrus to make the sauce and we didn't get any in the last delivery," I said. "The sauce is made from eggs, and we don't get many of those, either. I can only serve it once in a while, as a treat."
    "Then we'll ask for more yellow citrus and extra eggs," the Commander chuckled. He brushed back dark-gold hair with wet hands, dampening the length. It still looked like a lion's mane to me. They talked of other things then, as if I weren't there. They spoke of the new troops and how they were fitting in; some of whom were considered troublemakers already. The discussion turned to the cooler season which was still moon-turns away and other topics. More Rangers came to join us as they talked, as did several officers. I was the only woman present, and thinking more and more that I should have climbed out of the water when Delvin first showed up.
    The topic of discussion had turned to the additional bedding needed in the barracks for cooler weather, when an alarm began to sound. I hadn't heard the alarm before. With practiced precision, Bel hauled me from the water one-handed, grabbed a towel for me and lifted his clothing off a hook. I wanted to shriek but knew it wouldn't help the situation—all the others were flinging on clothing and rushing toward the walls surrounding the post.
    Bel hauled me along under his arm, tossed me inside the nearest door to the main building, slammed the door in my face after shouting at me to stay inside, pulled his trousers on and ran after the others. I was shaking and pulling my towel tighter around me. Were we under attack? That's what it looked like to me. Not knowing what to do otherwise, I trotted toward the kitchens.
    The entire population from the pink wing was there ahead of me, all talking in hushed voices and doing their best to peer out the windows. "What are you doing?" I shouted. "Have they not told you to stay away from the windows?" My point was verified moments later when bullets ripped through the thick glass. Shards sprayed across kitchen counters, slivers littered prep tables and splinters—both wood and glass—slapped against cabinets. "Get down!" I shouted at the women. With all of them shrieking at once, I had to shout a second time before they dropped to the floor.
    Still wrapped in only a towel, I crawled toward a cabinet that held my largest skillets. Grabbing the heaviest one I could wield comfortably, I pulled it out and crawled back, stationing myself between the door and the broken windows. The enemy could come in by either means. The women would have been safer if they'd stayed in the pink wing. It had more walls around it.
    Two women were huddled in a corner, bleeding and crying. I thought to go to them, but that thought was interrupted by a fire bottle hefted through the broken window. It crashed onto the stone flooring and flames now spread and pooled across the slate-gray flagstones. Ripping off my towel, I dunked it in the sink, getting it wet before wringing it out and throwing it over the blaze on the floor. Several more wet towels later, the blaze was contained.
    Still naked, I ran low until I could lift my skillet and take up my post again. When the first man burst through the door, I knew he wasn't ours—he was dressed in desert garb. I hit him with my pan and he fell, his head cracked. Was he humanoid or one of the demons? I grabbed a large chopping knife from a nearby block. His head was coming off if he rose. He didn't.
    Another burst in. He fell when I hit him hard across the face, but he didn't lose consciousness. This could be a demon. I'd received exemplary performance certificates during my military training because I'd been faster than the others. Much faster. I had no idea how that was, but my instructors were happy with me because of it. Moving as swiftly as I could, I slicing the demon's throat. It took two swift passes and he was clawing at me when I removed his head. He dusted, just as the other had that Commander Aris killed, spraying