Something fell off the Nightcrawler, hitting the ground with a fleshy plop.
It was an arm, an actual whole arm.
Okay.
Zayne got this.
He so got this.
Throwing his head back, the Nightcrawler howled in pain, the sound a cross between a fox and bobcat. Zayne spun, arcing one crescent-shaped blade through the air and straight through the neck of the Nightcrawler.
Falling forward, the creature burst into flames, disintegrating into a shower of ash before hitting the ground as Purson slipped into what he really looked like. His skin thinned and turned a shade of sand. Fur sprouted all over his face, joining with the mane of blond hair. Leathery, coarse wings sprouted from his back. His nostrils elongated and flattened as his mouth stretched grotesquely wide. Sharp canines sprouted as the demon’s eyes glowed iridescent, pupils stretching vertically.
Purson had the head of...the head of a lion.
I would never unsee this.
Snapping out of my stupor, I started to summon my own grace—
Zayne spun toward the Upper Level demon and he changed, but it was nothing like when he was a Warden. The luminous glow pulsed over his body as the raised markings stretched and lifted off his back, becoming solid.
Wings. The markings on his back were where his wings had gone, and how freaking crazy was that?
Now they spilled outward, unfolding and rising high on either side of Zayne. Golden streaks of light pulsed throughout the snow-white feathers.
“Oh, shit,” Purson uttered in a garbled voice, and I think that was the exact moment he realized what Zayne was. He lifted his hands. There were no nasty balls of energy that Upper Level demons could often summon and control. He held his hands in surrender.
“You can have whatever you want. Anything. My legions, my loyalty. My fidelity,” the Upper Level demon pleaded as he summoned the chain to his hands. “Anything. I swear to you. Anything.”
“Your silence would be nice,” Zayne told him, and then he struck.
It was a graceful move, a spin of golden skin and fire. His wings lifted him in the air and then brought him down, tucking back as the flaming curved blade sliced cleanly through the air.
Purson didn’t even have a chance to do whatever he planned to with that chain. Zayne’s blade caught him at the shoulders, cleaving straight through him.
“Dammit,” Purson muttered, and then burst into flames, incinerated on the spot.
That seemed to be a favorite of last words among demons.
Straightening, Zayne shook his wings out before folding them back. They settled against his back and then...they seemed to seep into his skin, leaving behind the raised pattern of what I now knew were wings.
The sickle blades collapsed, shattering into golden dust that glimmered against the dark ground only for a few seconds before disappearing. The network of lit veins faded as Zayne turned back to where I was standing, having done absolutely nothing other than try to touch him.
Finally, I found my voice. “You could do that? Like from the moment you Fell, you could do all of that?”
“Yeah,” he answered.
“I don’t care what you think, a huge part of you had to still be in there when you were all Mr. Fallen, because you could’ve done that at any time and you didn’t.”
“I could. I did. There were demons I took out that way.” He looked down at his hands while I thought of that garbage human he’d killed. Had there been other humans? “But you’re right, because I didn’t want to when it came to you.”
“Thank God,” I said. “You’re...you’re badass, Zayne.”
His lifted his head. “I thought I was badass before.”
“You were. Like you were badass, but now you’re bad-period-ass-period,” I told him. “I’m kind of having sword envy right now.”
“It doesn’t really bother you, does it?”
“Does what?”
“What I am now. What I’m capable of. Because this is me.” He placed his hand over his heart as he walked forward, stopping in front of me. “But I’m different now. I can feel that. There’s this... I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s this coldness in me, and that need...that need to dominate is still there. It’s not directed at you. It will never be again, but I don’t know if there’s more about me that has changed.”
Staring up at him, I knew what he was saying wasn’t a case of him being overdramatic. He was different. How he spoke to the demon wasn’t like Zayne—like the old Zayne. There’d been a taunting quality to his words that said he was going to enjoy what he was about to do. The way he took out the Nightcrawler was another example. Old Zayne wouldn’t have chopped off an arm. He would’ve gone straight for the kill, and the old Zayne would’ve taken out Purson no matter what the demon claimed or tried to barter. There were differences and there could be more, but I also knew that I would always be safe with him. Hell, I was beginning to think that I’d actually been more safe with him when he was Scary Fallen than I even realized before.
And that coldness he felt? I wondered if it was the loss of his Glory he was feeling, which was sort of equivalent to a human soul. I had no idea what that meant for him long term, and that worried me, but I knew that no matter what, I would still love him and his lack of Glory didn’t stop him from loving me. We’d figure out whatever else may have changed together.
I met his gaze. “The only thing that bothers me is how unfair it is that you have two swords and I have one. That’s BS.”
A wide, beautiful smile broke out across Zayne’s face. He laughed, the sound deep and familiar and warm like sunshine, stealing my breath. That was another thing I didn’t know if I’d ever hear again. His laugh, and it was beautiful.
My lips twitched. “I have a feeling you’re laughing at me.”
“I just told you that I know that I’ve changed and I don’t know exactly how much, and all you can think about is that I have two swords and you only have one.”
“Well, yeah. That’s a big deal. I’m an envious kind of person.”
He laughed again, the sound lighting my whole chest. “Only you would respond that way.”
That could be true.
A warm breeze caught the strands of his hair, lifting them from his bare shoulders as he looked around. Come to think of it, the abnormal chill was gone from the air. It wasn’t unbearably hot or muggy, but it was far more seasonable.
I watched him, wondering if he had something to do with the weather. How strange would that be? But it couldn’t have been a coincidence that it had been twenty or more degrees cooler than normal up until he’d been restored—well, mostly restored—to who he’d been before.