was yet a dozen steps away, below Azrael’s spot on the small hill. “You cannot force me back to hell against my will.”
“True, human.” The snarl lifted a corner of the demon’s thick lips. “But I can kill you and claim your soul. And when I do, you will be mine for eternity.”
“Then it’s best I not let you kill me, demon.” He readied himself for battle, drawing on the strength of Addie, Locan, and Jett. The strength of their love, of their promise of a future fighting demons rather than serving one.
But for that promise, he needed to live. And if he wanted to live, he somehow had to defeat the demon. Az tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword.
Naburus had no need to draw closer to Az to launch his attack. He raised his right arm and shook out the long, razor-studded whip, swung the deadly thing over his shoulder, and then struck. Az dove, rolling to the left, but the tip of the demon’s whip wrapped around his upper right thigh. The slashing razors burned like acid, cutting through the thick leather pants into muscle. Naburus pulled tight, dragging Azrael across the rocky ground.
Az twisted his body and slashed at the braided rawhide with his sword. Once, twice, bouncing off the razors until he finally slipped between two of them and caught leather on the third strike. The braid parted and he was free, but much too close to Naburus. The demon reached for him. Instead of trying to get away, Azrael rolled toward the demon, slashing at the back of one thick ankle.
His blade connected with hardened scales, but Az twisted his wrist, forcing the blade between the scales, ripping through muscle and tendons. Naburus bellowed and reached for Azrael, but Az pulled his sword free and rolled out of reach. Limping now, Naburus turned on his good leg and prepared to swing his whip—now a full five feet shorter—once again.
But Azrael leapt to his feet and raced around the demon, slashing once again at the injured leg, cutting through muscles and tendons behind the creature’s knee. The demon’s leg buckled, but Naburus swung his whip as he went down.
Razors slashed across Azrael’s shoulder, cutting deeply into his left side, but the leather vest protected his back and allowed him to move away, once again out of reach. “Hard to fight with a short whip, eh, Naburus?”
“As difficult as it is to fight while bleeding to death, human?”
The rush of adrenaline had kept him from noticing, but blood poured from the deep wounds in his thigh, and his left shoulder had sustained enough damage that his arm and hand were useless. He grasped the hilt tighter in his right hand and faced Naburus.
Naburus was badly injured, his left leg almost entirely useless, the whip shortened to the point where he could slash with it but no longer had enough to actually capture Azrael and pull him close. For a brief moment, Az thought he might actually have a chance.
Then Naburus reached over his shoulder and pulled out a sword twice the length of the one Azrael held. “Ready to die, human? Come to me of your own free will, or die and spend eternity in hell. It’s of no matter to me. Either way, you’re mine.”
Az sucked in a painful breath. Dark spots swirled in front of his eyes. Blood ran down his leg, dripped off his hand and pooled at his feet. There was no pain in his arm—no feeling at all—but Az refused to give up. He saw Addie’s smile in his mind, imagined the feel of Locan and Jett’s strong arms holding him close. Even Ukopach was making his presence known. Az loved them. He loved all of them, and he wasn’t about to give up. Eternity in hell was better than serving the demon, especially when the only ones he wanted to serve were those few precious souls he had grown to love.
Swaying on his feet, Az managed to raise the sword. Naburus couldn’t walk, though he was still standing, balanced on his one good leg. Az took a step forward. Then another. He knew that the demon would kill him, knew that
“True, human.” The snarl lifted a corner of the demon’s thick lips. “But I can kill you and claim your soul. And when I do, you will be mine for eternity.”
“Then it’s best I not let you kill me, demon.” He readied himself for battle, drawing on the strength of Addie, Locan, and Jett. The strength of their love, of their promise of a future fighting demons rather than serving one.
But for that promise, he needed to live. And if he wanted to live, he somehow had to defeat the demon. Az tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword.
Naburus had no need to draw closer to Az to launch his attack. He raised his right arm and shook out the long, razor-studded whip, swung the deadly thing over his shoulder, and then struck. Az dove, rolling to the left, but the tip of the demon’s whip wrapped around his upper right thigh. The slashing razors burned like acid, cutting through the thick leather pants into muscle. Naburus pulled tight, dragging Azrael across the rocky ground.
Az twisted his body and slashed at the braided rawhide with his sword. Once, twice, bouncing off the razors until he finally slipped between two of them and caught leather on the third strike. The braid parted and he was free, but much too close to Naburus. The demon reached for him. Instead of trying to get away, Azrael rolled toward the demon, slashing at the back of one thick ankle.
His blade connected with hardened scales, but Az twisted his wrist, forcing the blade between the scales, ripping through muscle and tendons. Naburus bellowed and reached for Azrael, but Az pulled his sword free and rolled out of reach. Limping now, Naburus turned on his good leg and prepared to swing his whip—now a full five feet shorter—once again.
But Azrael leapt to his feet and raced around the demon, slashing once again at the injured leg, cutting through muscles and tendons behind the creature’s knee. The demon’s leg buckled, but Naburus swung his whip as he went down.
Razors slashed across Azrael’s shoulder, cutting deeply into his left side, but the leather vest protected his back and allowed him to move away, once again out of reach. “Hard to fight with a short whip, eh, Naburus?”
“As difficult as it is to fight while bleeding to death, human?”
The rush of adrenaline had kept him from noticing, but blood poured from the deep wounds in his thigh, and his left shoulder had sustained enough damage that his arm and hand were useless. He grasped the hilt tighter in his right hand and faced Naburus.
Naburus was badly injured, his left leg almost entirely useless, the whip shortened to the point where he could slash with it but no longer had enough to actually capture Azrael and pull him close. For a brief moment, Az thought he might actually have a chance.
Then Naburus reached over his shoulder and pulled out a sword twice the length of the one Azrael held. “Ready to die, human? Come to me of your own free will, or die and spend eternity in hell. It’s of no matter to me. Either way, you’re mine.”
Az sucked in a painful breath. Dark spots swirled in front of his eyes. Blood ran down his leg, dripped off his hand and pooled at his feet. There was no pain in his arm—no feeling at all—but Az refused to give up. He saw Addie’s smile in his mind, imagined the feel of Locan and Jett’s strong arms holding him close. Even Ukopach was making his presence known. Az loved them. He loved all of them, and he wasn’t about to give up. Eternity in hell was better than serving the demon, especially when the only ones he wanted to serve were those few precious souls he had grown to love.
Swaying on his feet, Az managed to raise the sword. Naburus couldn’t walk, though he was still standing, balanced on his one good leg. Az took a step forward. Then another. He knew that the demon would kill him, knew that
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