later, I’d regained my perch on top of the Golden Gate Bridge, darkness wrapped around me like a cloak. The chill in the air cut deeper than the previous night though the rain had stopped. The air tasted of Hell. I paced restlessly along the girder before jumping toward the water. The wind whisked by my face in tearing streams. At the last possible moment I Became and watched my dark shadow on the water—blackest black against the midnight blue of the ocean. It wasn’t until my second pass that I saw it—the faintest glow from deep beneath the water’s surface.
A Door.
Exhilaration, fear and anticipation zinged through my veins. I tore for the sky, rising high above to watch unseen for what would break free of the ocean. I circled, waiting. Worrying. There was so much to fear from Hell. Though I didn’t know of any demon who could properly challenge me, Father had secrets—like brick and mortar, Hell was built on them. When I killed Akaros, Father’s general, a couple months ago, Father had been strangely undisturbed. Shouldn’t he have been more concerned over losing his best warrior? That he wasn’t, left me with questions.
Questions I hoped would shortly be answered.
The brightness beneath the water grew, and with it, my fear.
And my fear terrified me more than anything else. I thrust it back down, banished it to the dark recesses of my soul. I could not allow any speck of fear to distract me.
Before I could think about it, before I could come to terms with the reality revealing itself before me, a shape emerged like a rocket, ribbons of water and darkness obscuring it from my view.
It leapt toward the shore and charged over the beach. A horseman and his mount—just like Miri’s dreams. I shaped my body into a blade to increase my speed. They moved fast, too fast, keeping more than an arm’s length ahead of me. The demon and his mount were huge, the giant hooves of the horse leaving prints like craters in its wake.
They looked like they’d been carved from a granite mountain, shades of gray layered together making them look like one creature. But I could see the folds of the rider’s cloak, flying over the rear of the horse.
Despite their thunderous progression, neither horse nor rider made any sound. Only my own breath rasped in my ears, and the waves crashing on the sand. I forced myself forward, forced myself faster, to reach further and . . . I could almost . . . there!
My fingertips clasped the edge of the rider’s cloak, not a grasp, nothing so tangible, but it was enough to burn me with its frigid ice. And it was enough to draw the rider’s attention.
He whirled, pulling back on the horse’s reins and causing it to rear up, mouth open, green foam slathering its teeth, dripping onto the sand, burning the grains to glass. Against my will, my gaze climbed past the horse’s mouth, past its blood-red eyes and ears lying flat against its head. Up past the rider’s gloved hand on the reins, over the billowy folds of his robe—to his face.
A face cloaked in such blackness I couldn’t catch even a glimpse. The horseman wore a hood that hung so far forward I wondered if he could even see. If there was a he in there at all. Above his head, the demon held a blade aloft—the black, curved blade of a reaper.
But this was no soul collector—the demons sent to retrieve sinners from life.
Though this demon was death, it was unlike any demon I had ever seen.
In seconds only, the creature and his mount had completed their turn, the blade a mere foot from making contact with my head. I drew a pair of kamas from my Shadow, gripping them tightly in my fists as they materialized.
As the scimitar descended, I reached up with the right kama, it’s small, curved blade flashing in the darkness, and braced it against the demon’s weapon. The clash of metal sparked in the darkness, but made no sound. The demon pressed harder and my wings beat fiercely to keep me from stumbling back. The creature had
A Door.
Exhilaration, fear and anticipation zinged through my veins. I tore for the sky, rising high above to watch unseen for what would break free of the ocean. I circled, waiting. Worrying. There was so much to fear from Hell. Though I didn’t know of any demon who could properly challenge me, Father had secrets—like brick and mortar, Hell was built on them. When I killed Akaros, Father’s general, a couple months ago, Father had been strangely undisturbed. Shouldn’t he have been more concerned over losing his best warrior? That he wasn’t, left me with questions.
Questions I hoped would shortly be answered.
The brightness beneath the water grew, and with it, my fear.
And my fear terrified me more than anything else. I thrust it back down, banished it to the dark recesses of my soul. I could not allow any speck of fear to distract me.
Before I could think about it, before I could come to terms with the reality revealing itself before me, a shape emerged like a rocket, ribbons of water and darkness obscuring it from my view.
It leapt toward the shore and charged over the beach. A horseman and his mount—just like Miri’s dreams. I shaped my body into a blade to increase my speed. They moved fast, too fast, keeping more than an arm’s length ahead of me. The demon and his mount were huge, the giant hooves of the horse leaving prints like craters in its wake.
They looked like they’d been carved from a granite mountain, shades of gray layered together making them look like one creature. But I could see the folds of the rider’s cloak, flying over the rear of the horse.
Despite their thunderous progression, neither horse nor rider made any sound. Only my own breath rasped in my ears, and the waves crashing on the sand. I forced myself forward, forced myself faster, to reach further and . . . I could almost . . . there!
My fingertips clasped the edge of the rider’s cloak, not a grasp, nothing so tangible, but it was enough to burn me with its frigid ice. And it was enough to draw the rider’s attention.
He whirled, pulling back on the horse’s reins and causing it to rear up, mouth open, green foam slathering its teeth, dripping onto the sand, burning the grains to glass. Against my will, my gaze climbed past the horse’s mouth, past its blood-red eyes and ears lying flat against its head. Up past the rider’s gloved hand on the reins, over the billowy folds of his robe—to his face.
A face cloaked in such blackness I couldn’t catch even a glimpse. The horseman wore a hood that hung so far forward I wondered if he could even see. If there was a he in there at all. Above his head, the demon held a blade aloft—the black, curved blade of a reaper.
But this was no soul collector—the demons sent to retrieve sinners from life.
Though this demon was death, it was unlike any demon I had ever seen.
In seconds only, the creature and his mount had completed their turn, the blade a mere foot from making contact with my head. I drew a pair of kamas from my Shadow, gripping them tightly in my fists as they materialized.
As the scimitar descended, I reached up with the right kama, it’s small, curved blade flashing in the darkness, and braced it against the demon’s weapon. The clash of metal sparked in the darkness, but made no sound. The demon pressed harder and my wings beat fiercely to keep me from stumbling back. The creature had
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