May the gods help me …
This wasn’t a couple of juveniles out to test their prowess. This was something far more serious.
There were over a dozen demons standing within the stone circle, and at least eight of them were winged. While instinct might be clamoring for me to change shape and flee, that was probably the worst thing I could do. Blackbirds weren’t equipped to fight demons on wing—neither our beaks nor our claws were designed to tear through leathery hides. I had more hope of survival in human form, but against so many …
I tightened my grip on the daggers. I was a De Montfort, however underpowered, and I’d been well trained by Mo. I could and would survive this.
The biggest of the gathered demons stepped forward. He was an ugly son of a bitch, with mismatched yellow daggers for teeth and eyes that were as orange as the skies. His red wings fanned lightly, making him appear even bigger, and his thick, sharp claws flexed in and out of their sheaths.
“Leave this place.” His voice was a guttural smear of sound, harsh and ugly against the glory of the golden sunrise. “Leave, and never return.”
I shifted my stance and braced for attack. “If you seek to destroy the sword, you’ve arrived too late. The blessing has already been made.”
They hissed again, the collective sound discordant and grating.
“Leave,” the leader replied. “Or die.”
Demons weren’t exactly known for their generosity, and I seriously doubted they were actually intending to let me go. So why were they even bothering to offer the possibility of escape? Was it merely a game? Or was something stranger happening here?
“Sorry.” I raised my daggers in readiness. “No can do.”
He made a motion with one clawed hand, and the demons attacked en masse. I cut, slashed, and thrust at claws, teeth, and bodies, Nex and Vita blurred beacons of brightness in the shadows and death that all but swamped me. Seconds of survival turned into minutes. Two lay dead at the foot of the knob, but there were so many more … a writhing, stinking wall of them that wanted nothing more than to rend me into tiny, unrecognizable bits of flesh.
An unholy scream to my left … I flinched and slashed Nex sideways, felt the stinging spurt of blood across my cheek. Movement to the right … I shifted. Too late. Claws raked my left arm, shredding my coat and sending me stumbling sideways. I went down, smashing one knee against the stone but somehow remaining upright, and thrust up with Vita. Her blade pierced the palm of a demon attempting to cleave me in two and, with a quick circular flick, I severed his hand. His howl briefly overran the screeching of the others and stirred them into an even greater frenzy. Talons tore at me, shredding clothes and skin, drawing blood and staining the air with my fear. I pressed back against the outcrop of stone that held the sword and fought on, slashing the face of one leering imp to the bone and then cutting the neck of another. As his blood spurted across my face, something silver flashed across the far corner of my vision and the demons momentarily gave way.
Then a hand grabbed the collar of my jacket and unceremoniously hauled me upright.
“Back to back,” a deep, velvety voice said.
I didn’t question his sudden appearance. I just obeyed and continued fighting the demonic wave that seemed to have no end, all the while aware of the play of the stranger’s muscles against my spine and the fierce howl of his sword.
A shadow loomed high, and the air screamed. I glanced up, saw three demons diving down, their claws extended and gleaming with bloody fire in the sunrise. I raised Nex and Vita and smacked their blades together to form a cross; a force that was far wilder than mere magic sparked to life, and lightning shot from the tips of each blade, cutting upward. Two demons were hit, but the third dropped through their cinders, a scream on his lips and death in his eyes.
“Drop low,” the stranger ordered.
I did, and his sword swung over my head, cleaving the demon’s limbs, then sheathing itself deep in his torso.
As two halves of the demon’s body fell to either side of the knob and his blood sprayed all around us, another scream rent the air. I twisted around and saw the lead demon take flight. But he wasn’t attacking, he was leaving, his wings gleaming like dripping blood in the brightness of the dawn.
No other demons had survived.
I briefly closed my eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. With the help of the stranger and a whole lot of good fortune, I’d survived.
“I need to thank you …” The words trailed off.
The stranger, like the red demon, had disappeared.
Two
I spun and quickly scanned the area, but there was absolutely no sign of him. The color-stained sky was also clear. The only indication that I hadn’t been alone up here was the sheer number of broken and bloody bodies littering the knob’s base—and even those were now disintegrating as the sun’s rays shone more fully on them.
Why had he left without saying anything? While I appreciated the rescue, I’d also have appreciated knowing to whom I owed my life. I didn’t think he was a witch—he hadn’t felt like one and he certainly hadn’t used magic against the demons—only a sword that had screamed in delight every time it tasted the blood of its enemies. Besides, few witches used swords these days to channel power through, simply because they were considered too cumbersome for everyday use. Most resorted to daggers similar in style to mine, or long hairpins that were both intricate in design and very deadly.
After one more look around, I stripped off what was left of my jacket and used it to wipe Nex and Vita clean. I’d still have to wash them with sanctified water once I got home, as demon blood did horrible things to metal. Of course, it also did horrible things to clothing—everything I was currently wearing would have to be burned, as there was no way to get the stench out.
I sheathed the blades and used the coat to wipe off the rest of my clothes as best I could. Then I carefully peeled away the remnants of my shirt to examine the various wounds. The worst of them was my left arm—three deep slashes that ran from shoulder to elbow and already showed signs of festering. Thankfully, I hadn’t been hit hard enough for bone to show, but unless I tended to it now, the arm would be nigh on unusable within twenty minutes. All sorts of nasty germs and diseases clung to a demon’s claws—it was one of the reasons so many died even if they survived the initial attack.
I grabbed my pack and pulled out the medical kit. Inside was a vial of sanctified water and another containing an antiseptic sealer that was one of Mo’s specialties. After uncorking the water, I carefully poured it over the various wounds and gritted my teeth against the scream that sprang to my lips. The water bubbled and hissed for several very painful minutes, but by the end of it all the wounds looked far cleaner. Once the reaction had ceased, I wiped my arm down with a clean cloth and then applied Mo’s concoction. The thick green goop filled the three cuts and then hardened, forming a waterproof seal that would allow the wound to heal from the inside out while protecting it from infection.
I put my shirt back on, tossed the medical kit into the pack, and then grabbed the bloody remnants of my coat and headed back to the bridge. The wildlife that had been so absent earlier was now back in full force; squirrels scurried across the path and the air was alive with birdsong. At least I now knew that silence from the local wildlife was not only a good indicator of predators being in the area but also demons.