The Sweetest Burn. Jeaniene Frost
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demon master’s realm. Well, I had a surprise for him.
I whirled, balancing my weight on my right leg while kicking out with my left. At the same time, I pulled the knife out, smashing it into his face with more force than any human should be able to muster. That, combined with the minion’s downward momentum from suddenly getting his feet kicked out from under him, caused him to drop like a stone. My roommate, Costa, had been training me in hand-to-hand combat, and it had paid off. For the barest second, the minion’s shocked gaze met mine, and I felt a savage thrill at the disbelief in his gaze.
Who’s afraid now? I thought fiercely.
I shouldn’t have taken that brief moment to celebrate. Even with a knife sticking out of his face, he was still deadly. His hands closed over my ankles, yanking hard. I lost my balance and fell backward, twisting away at once to avoid his immediate tackle. He landed on sand instead of me, but then his fists smashed into my lower body. I doubled over, feeling like I’d been hit by a truck. He held on and started to crawl up my body, his grin visible even through the streams of blood coming from where the knife stuck out of his face.
I couldn’t break his grip, so I didn’t try. When he made it up to my thigh, my knee smashed into his face with all the extrahuman strength I had in me. Pain reverberated up my leg, but this time, I didn’t spare a single second before attacking again. I grabbed his head and yanked it to the side as hard as I could. A crack sounded and the minion’s whole body went limp.
I managed to roll away, my knees and ribs throbbing so much that vomiting felt like a good way to celebrate. Still, I was exultant. Looks like those fighting lessons had really paid off! In fact, Costa had trained me so well, my actions had felt more like muscle memory instead of a conscious decision to kill someone. I had killed the minion, though, and he wasn’t the first one, although he was the first one that I’d taken on by myself with only a normal weapon.
Being a killer hadn’t been anywhere on my list of life goals six months ago, when I’d been a junior at WMU. Since then, I’d had to learn how to do that as well as do a lot of other strange, unpleasant things. Thank you, unexpected supernatural lineage. You are the gift that keeps on giving.
With a suddenness that still startled me, the minion’s body dissolved until nothing but ashes remained. They began to blow away in the same ocean breeze that whipped my hair around like dozens of dark brown scarves. The way minions and demons turned to ash after death was the only considerate thing they did.
Even though everything hurt, I heaved myself up from the sand. Bruised and battered or no, I still had to find Brutus.
I was in the process of brushing the sand off me when my surroundings changed in an instant. The sand turned to sheets of ice, the light became pitch darkness and the sounds from the surf ceased with such abruptness that the new silence was ominous. The worst part was the cold. My teeth began to chatter, and the frigid air felt like it scattered razors across my skin.
Just as quickly, the dark, frozen world disappeared, leaving me back on the beach with a warm, salt-scented breeze and mauve-colored shades of dawn starting to paint the horizon. Still, I felt stiff from more than the cold that seemed to linger on the air. That hazy, alternate version of this area wasn’t a full-on sensory hallucination, although all of my former doctors would’ve sworn otherwise. Instead, it was a glimpse of a realm that hovered right over this one.
Physicists call it M theory—the idea that different dimensional layers existed next to each other. I called it a shitload of trouble, because that sunless, icy world was a demon realm. My lineage gave me the ability to catch glimpses of these deadly realms, but for some reason, I hadn’t spotted this one before. If I’d known that a demon realm existed right on top of this place, I would’ve never walked this beach at all, let alone by myself before the sun was fully up.
Before I could turn around to leave, a large slash suddenly appeared in the air and three people stepped out of it. At once, the supernatural tattoo on my right arm began to burn. I gripped it without looking away, and the part of my brain that wasn’t freaking out figured out what was going on.
The minion I’d killed hadn’t snuck up on me using his supernatural stealth and speed. He’d simply crossed from a demon realm into this one through a gateway that I hadn’t known was there.
I didn’t have time to wonder if the realm was new, or if it had always been there and was now accessible to this world through an ominous crack. The three new minions seemed startled to see me, but then their gazes roved from the blood on my dress and cardigan to the very incriminating pile of minion ashes near my feet. When the palest one stretched out hands that turned into living, writhing snakes, it was all I could do not to scream.
Not three minions. Two minions and an unkillable, shape-shifting demon.
Standing and fighting would be suicide, so I snatched my knife from the pile of minion ashes and began to run. The demon barked out an order in a language I recognized all too well, then the minions gave chase, and they were fast. If I had been a normal human, they would have had me in five seconds flat, but I wasn’t normal, and right now, I was glad about that.
I was also glad I had a mental map of the closest hallowed ground near the North Shore park. In fact, I’d memorized every plot of hallowed ground near my house just in case something like this happened. St Joseph’s Catholic Church was about seven streets away. If I made it, the demon couldn’t touch me because demons couldn’t cross hallowed ground. Minions could, but I’d already killed one today. Why not go for more?
Since sand was harder to run on, I headed toward the sidewalk along the park, needing the flat ground to increase my speed. Behind me, I could hear the minions cursing. They hadn’t expected me to make them work for this. That gave me grim satisfaction as I darted around benches and tables in the deserted picnic area. My knees and ribs still throbbed from my earlier fight, but nothing was as great a painkiller as survival instinct. As I ran, I counted down the wooden street markers in the park for encouragement. Eighty-Third Street. Eighty-Fourth. The church was just after Eighty-Seventh Street. I was going to make it.
Then, even though he was much farther away, I heard the demon yell, “She’s the Davidian!” in a rage-filled roar, and I knew all bets were off. My speed might have been preventing the minions from capturing me, but it also outed me as number one on the demon’s most-wanted list.
The demon was no longer content to send his minions ahead of him like a bunch of hunting dogs. Several quick glances over my shoulder showed him now tearing after me himself, and he made the minions look as if they’d been moving in slow motion. Benches, tables and other large objects were hurtled my way as he didn’t just chase me, but actively tried to kill me.
I ducked and weaved around as many as I could, but some still found their mark. I cursed when something heavy smacked me in the back, and while it made me stumble, I forced myself not to fall. Instead, I put all of my energy into running, staying within the limits of the park despite its greater dangers of projectiles. Taking the main road, A1A, would give me a straight shot to the church, but even at this hour, cars were on it. I couldn’t risk someone else getting hurt, and demons loved nothing more than collateral damage.
I’d just rounded a corner that brought me briefly back onto the beach when something slammed into my legs, knocking me over. I rolled at once, making sure not to stab myself in the process, and was back up when a loud, trumpeting snarl sounded overhead.
Brutus, my pet gargoyle, flew toward me, the dawn’s rays highlighting his large, beastly form in different shades of pink. I would’ve been relieved to see him, but I was too shocked by the man riding on Brutus’s back.
The minions and demon saw them, too, and at their confused expressions, I remembered that they didn’t see a large man on the back of a hulking, grayish-blue gargoyle. Due to Archon glamour, all they saw was an angrily squawking seagull somehow carrying his muscular male passenger, and from the way they cocked their heads, they didn’t know what to make of the sight.
“Ivy, duck!” the man yelled.
I hit the sand even as I reeled with shock. Only one person in the world could