Smallman. Liam was nowhere to be seen. Lying little leprechaun .
My heart rate ratcheted up a notch, but I kept a grip. I was born to fight these things. Right? My Jeep was exactly where I’d left it, two spots down. And under the backseat was my nifty new sword. I was already focusing my thoughts, imagining the blade at the end of the hilt. Now, all I had to do was convince the demon shuffling his feet behind me to wait while I fished it out. Damn, I hope this works.
With nothing to lose, I glanced over my shoulder.
Hey, I know that guy .
He’d come into Primanti’s after me. We’d even shared a quick glance, though I’d put him out of my thoughts the next second. Sheesh, I sucked at this illorum-detecting-demons thing.
He wasn’t an overly big guy, though next to me, fifth graders look adult-size. He was average, probably five-eight, five-nine, with a thick build. He was wearing a checkered, buttoned shirt and a black windbreaker that molded over his arms and chest with the breeze.
He dragged his feet. I hate that. Not like Quasimodo or anything, just the normal lazy gait that drove me absolutely insane. It was worse when the person wore dress shoes, or boots, but even in sneakers like this guy, it was all I could do not to turn around and scream, “Pick up your feet!”
Oh. And he had that nasty, week-old, rotten-eggs-in-the-summertime smell. Downwind from the guy, I couldn’t avoid the stench. Didn’t anyone else smell that? Must just be a nephilim thing. Lucky us. Ick .
His gait quickened the second I turned back around, scrape-clomp , scrape-clomp , scrape-clomp . Resisting the urge to run, I snagged my keys from the side pocket of my purse and made it to the Jeep. The key was in the back hatch’s lock just as he stepped between the cars. A flash of a dagger glinted in his hand.
“Nephilim scourge,” the guy hissed.
I had an instant to duck before he sliced at me. He missed by a fraction of an inch, but my back window paid the price.
“Try that shit with me , ya demon filth,” Liam said, appearing behind him. What the hell had taken him so long?
He swung his sword, but the demon brought his dagger up in time to block. The blow was hard enough to drive him back, and the two clashed weapons again and again, Liam striking hard while the demon fought to defend. I watched like a rubbernecker at a car wreck, mouth gaping.
By the time they reached the warehouse wall, Liam’s attacks were slowing, his swings less precise. He was growing tired. The demon was simply waiting him out.
Liam threw me a quick glance before he struck at the demon again. “Get your bloody sword, woman. You’re not at the flippin’ pictures.”
“Oh.” I snapped out of it and turned back to my ruined Jeep window. Hell, no point unlocking the thing now. I shoved my hand through the ripped plastic and reached farther by climbing up on the back hitch. By the tips of my fingers, I touched the hilt of my sword, and the whole of it seemed to slide toward my hand, into my grip. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe not.
Throwing my body back out of the Jeep, I pulled the sword free. Relief washed over me at seeing the blade, real and solid, just as I’d willed it. Yes .
I turned, triumphant, just in time to see the demon launching his attack on the now-exhausted Liam. Triumph dimmed and a moment of panic froze me to the spot. I really didn’t have a clue how to sword-fight. I’d get us both killed.
“Now, woman!” Liam yelled, swinging his sword up in defense. Metal clashed, sparks lit from the edges, and the redheaded nephilim stumbled back. “Now!”
I had to help. The decision crystallized in my brain, banishing everything else. Worry, doubt, fear, it was all just suddenly gone. Instinct took over, I dropped my purse, and my feet moved me forward. I raised my weapon, swung. Easy. Natural. But not enough.
The demon turned, blocked, and the reverberation of metal striking metal shook through my sword. Like biting a fork, the
My heart rate ratcheted up a notch, but I kept a grip. I was born to fight these things. Right? My Jeep was exactly where I’d left it, two spots down. And under the backseat was my nifty new sword. I was already focusing my thoughts, imagining the blade at the end of the hilt. Now, all I had to do was convince the demon shuffling his feet behind me to wait while I fished it out. Damn, I hope this works.
With nothing to lose, I glanced over my shoulder.
Hey, I know that guy .
He’d come into Primanti’s after me. We’d even shared a quick glance, though I’d put him out of my thoughts the next second. Sheesh, I sucked at this illorum-detecting-demons thing.
He wasn’t an overly big guy, though next to me, fifth graders look adult-size. He was average, probably five-eight, five-nine, with a thick build. He was wearing a checkered, buttoned shirt and a black windbreaker that molded over his arms and chest with the breeze.
He dragged his feet. I hate that. Not like Quasimodo or anything, just the normal lazy gait that drove me absolutely insane. It was worse when the person wore dress shoes, or boots, but even in sneakers like this guy, it was all I could do not to turn around and scream, “Pick up your feet!”
Oh. And he had that nasty, week-old, rotten-eggs-in-the-summertime smell. Downwind from the guy, I couldn’t avoid the stench. Didn’t anyone else smell that? Must just be a nephilim thing. Lucky us. Ick .
His gait quickened the second I turned back around, scrape-clomp , scrape-clomp , scrape-clomp . Resisting the urge to run, I snagged my keys from the side pocket of my purse and made it to the Jeep. The key was in the back hatch’s lock just as he stepped between the cars. A flash of a dagger glinted in his hand.
“Nephilim scourge,” the guy hissed.
I had an instant to duck before he sliced at me. He missed by a fraction of an inch, but my back window paid the price.
“Try that shit with me , ya demon filth,” Liam said, appearing behind him. What the hell had taken him so long?
He swung his sword, but the demon brought his dagger up in time to block. The blow was hard enough to drive him back, and the two clashed weapons again and again, Liam striking hard while the demon fought to defend. I watched like a rubbernecker at a car wreck, mouth gaping.
By the time they reached the warehouse wall, Liam’s attacks were slowing, his swings less precise. He was growing tired. The demon was simply waiting him out.
Liam threw me a quick glance before he struck at the demon again. “Get your bloody sword, woman. You’re not at the flippin’ pictures.”
“Oh.” I snapped out of it and turned back to my ruined Jeep window. Hell, no point unlocking the thing now. I shoved my hand through the ripped plastic and reached farther by climbing up on the back hitch. By the tips of my fingers, I touched the hilt of my sword, and the whole of it seemed to slide toward my hand, into my grip. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe not.
Throwing my body back out of the Jeep, I pulled the sword free. Relief washed over me at seeing the blade, real and solid, just as I’d willed it. Yes .
I turned, triumphant, just in time to see the demon launching his attack on the now-exhausted Liam. Triumph dimmed and a moment of panic froze me to the spot. I really didn’t have a clue how to sword-fight. I’d get us both killed.
“Now, woman!” Liam yelled, swinging his sword up in defense. Metal clashed, sparks lit from the edges, and the redheaded nephilim stumbled back. “Now!”
I had to help. The decision crystallized in my brain, banishing everything else. Worry, doubt, fear, it was all just suddenly gone. Instinct took over, I dropped my purse, and my feet moved me forward. I raised my weapon, swung. Easy. Natural. But not enough.
The demon turned, blocked, and the reverberation of metal striking metal shook through my sword. Like biting a fork, the
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