But I was ready.
Teeth bared, I tapped into my will, pulling the magic from the blood sigils on my arm and molding it to my will. The pulse of magic hit, sending me staggering as it answered.
The zombie-wolf let out a horrible, deep howl—the cry of a beast about to make a kill—and lunged.
Blood magic throbbed through me like adrenaline, only a thousand times stronger. I planted my feet and really let loose as I shouted, “Vento!” at the top of my lungs.
I unleashed everything I had into it. A blast of energy shot through me, and I staggered.
An unseen force hit the zombie-wolf, lifted it from its feet and sent it back with a violent burst of wind. The zombie-wolf soared backwards high across the arena in a blur of limbs and dead flesh. Its limbs thrashed as it came down fast.
And impaled on a flag’s metal post.
The dead thing slid down to the bottom, the post perforating through its mouth like a skewered pig and leaving a trail of dark blood on the metal.
Heart pounding, my body shook from the spent magic, and I let the agony of the blood magic roll through me. I stood, staring at the wolf for a moment and wondering if it was truly dead. Or would it simply cough up the metal post and spring back on its legs? Stranger things had happened.
But the wolf did not move again.
Only then did I notice the laughter had died. The arena was quiet. Too quiet.
Until I heard Logan’s cry from behind me, a scream of utter terror and pain.
24
My heart stopped. And then a new fear settled in my gut.
Panicked, I spun and saw Logan on the ground, two zombies on top of him. The other four lay in crumpled piles of dead bones and flesh on the ground, dark blood seeping from their skulls.
“Logan!”
My own pain forgotten, I ran as fast as my injured leg could take me without tripping. The sand pulled at my boots with each step, making it harder and slowing the process. It was like running through quicksand.
The harsh sound of Logan screaming continued, and then it just stopped.
No!
My eyes focused on Logan. From where I was, the two zombies obscured my view of him. I couldn’t see his face, only a scrap of his jeans showing from under the pile of zombies. I couldn’t see if he was still alive.
Bastards.
I growled in rage, arms pumping and spindling the blood magic in me until I burned with fever and all I saw was red and death and destruction.
The two zombies looked up at the sound of my approach, their jaws open with driblets of blood spilling from their mouths. Logan’s blood.
My pulse hammered, and the feeling of fury burned, feeding my blood magic with the added power of emotions and giving my magic a mega boost. Pain pulled me, and I felt like I was going to be split in two. Blood magic sucked. But it was all I had.
The adrenaline rushed through me, wild and mindless. I wanted to kill them.
My blood magic soared to the surface, and power rushed out of my palms.
“Vento!” I howled and flung out my hands.
A rush of invisible force caught the zombies and propelled them back. Their limbs thrashed wildly and frantically as they flew in the air.
With my heart thrashing I shouted, “Feurantis!”
Twin fireballs shot out of my outstretched hands and caught the two zombies midair. An explosion of yellow and orange light was followed by howls of agony as the undead ignited in flames as though they’d been dosed in gasoline.
I watched as the two smoldering zombies flew like flaming cannonballs and hit the far wall of the arena with a horrible crunch. They slid to the ground in heaps of jumbled limbs and charred flesh.
And then I was moving again.
My knees shook and I let myself fall next to Logan. My lips parted and a moan escaped me.
He was a mess of blood.
His jeans were torn and soaked in blood from ankle to thigh. Teeth marks stabbed his right collar bone, where the zombies had bitten him but had not managed to take away chunks of flesh. His shirt was ripped, revealing a series of long wounds that ran the width of his stomach, just above his belly button, as though the claws from a werewolf had sliced him. My stomach churned, and I looked away. The sand beneath him was scarlet.
Damn. His face was pale and pasty with a large red bruise just above his left eyebrow. His jaw shook as he tried to hide the pain from his face, but it was there.
He was alive, but he was going to bleed out if I couldn’t get him to an angel-born hospital, or any damn human hospital, soon.
His eyes met mine and a smile twitched on his lips. “You should see the other guy,” he said, his voice forced and laced with pain. His right hand was still clutched around the small knife.
I swallowed hard, trying to keep it together. “Damnit, Logan. You should have called for help.”
His features twisted, and he showed me a weary smile for a moment. “While you were fighting that zombie dog? No way,” he said, his tone quiet and rough.
“You need a doctor.”
Logan blinked up at me. “That bad, huh?”
“Yeah, that bad.” I let out a breath and raised my hand towards his face. Then I thought better of it and instead let it fall in my lap. “We’re going home. We’ve won. We’re going to get you fixed up.”
Vorkol had better let us go, or I was going to kill her next.
Sure enough, when I looked up, the Greater demon was watching me, her red eyes laced with a pure hatred that matched my own. So, we had something in common after all. Good.
“Game over,” I said, my voice loud over the enraged mumblings of the assembled demons. “We’ve won. We’ve killed your zombies. It’s time for you to live up to your end of the deal.”
I knew it was a longshot—part of me had always known she’d lied—but I had to try. For Logan’s sake. I had to get him out of here. He wasn’t going to make it.
“Deal?” mocked Vorkol, her delicate brows rising in question. “I don’t make deals with little birds,” she said, and Duvali laughed behind her on cue like a good dog.
Heat rose from my neck to my face. “You gave me your word!” I shouted, my heart pounding in my throat, my body shaking with the spent adrenaline and blood magic.
Vorkol gave me a liquid smile, her expression condescending. “I lied,” she said, and an echo of laughter from the demons ran along the arena, amplifying her words. “No demon or mortal ever goes free, silly bird.” She bared her teeth and said, “put the bird back in her cage. Let her rot to the end of her days. I’ve no more use for her.”
With a bored expression, she turned back to Duvali and the other demons assembled on the balcony. And just like that, I was forgotten. She’d gotten all the fun she’d wanted from me, and now I was discarded like one of her old costumes.
Then I understood. Vorkol had seemingly dropped all matters pertaining to Vargal. She didn’t want anyone talking about it anymore. She knew the truth now. Perhaps she was a little embarrassed. Perhaps she didn’t care. The name Vargal meant nothing to her anymore—just like I held no more interest in her eyes.
The sound of scrambling feet jerked my attention, and I looked up as some demons started to get up and leave.
The show was over.
My insides dropped to my feet. No. It couldn’t be. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I had to get out of here. I had to get Logan to a hospital.