Page 40 of A Blade of Blood and Shadow (The Ravaged Kingdom #1)

Chapter

Twenty-Six

I mogen’s body slumped forward as her hand went limp in mine. I pulled back to stare at my friend’s slack face, and a gaping hole opened inside of me.

She was dead.

Fury and devastation raged in that void, whipping through me in a howl of agony and leaving only emptiness in its wake.

I fought and thrashed, hoping my fury might provide an anchor to keep me from slipping into that dark abyss, but it just grew and grew.

My nails broke as I dragged them down the rough brick wall, fresh pain ripping through me as I clawed against the void that was threatening to swallow me whole.

A mighty howl tore from my throat, and the ground beneath me trembled. The walls shuddered, and my ears filled with the crack of mortar and the groan of concrete.

There was a sound like the earth being split in two, and I threw myself down on the floor as the house imploded .

Bits of concrete, brick, and plastic flew everywhere, and I covered my head with my hands. The shrapnel should have torn me to bits, but when I dared lift my gaze, I saw the pieces swirling around me — ricocheting off an invisible shield.

A sob tore through me as I collapsed once again, listening to the dust and debris rain down around me. My witchwood blade grew hot against my thigh, but I paid it no mind.

My whole body ached as I lay there, bleeding out in the basement of the wrecked house. Humid outside air coated my skin, and my temples throbbed.

I’d killed Silas and his hunters. They were gone, but so was Imogen.

I’d lost the one person who mattered to me in this world. Maybe it was fitting that I die here, too.

“ Hello, darling .”

The voice shook me out of my misery —made me jerk my head up and look around.

My scream was a muffled gurgle in my throat as I stared up at the demon.

He was broad and dark-skinned with closely cropped hair, though I supposed he could look any way he wanted. A pair of bat-like wings stretched out behind him, nearly filling the void left by the far basement wall.

I urged my broken body to move, but my muscles wouldn’t obey.

“Such a feeble, pathetic thing,” crooned another higher-pitched voice. “Are you sure she is the one?”

I whipped my head around to look over my shoulder and found another demon sneering down at me — this one with white-blond hair. He wore a ruffled cream shirt, a velvet waistcoat, and matching trousers, though his companion was dressed head to toe in black leather.

The dark-skinned demon scented the air, his beetle-like eyes flashing hungrily at whatever he detected. “It is her.”

“What do you want?” I growled, pressing my palms into the ground and pushing myself to my knees. Pain from the gaping wound in my gut made my eyes water, but I knew I had to get up.

“It is not what we want, lovely,” said the one in the fighting leathers. “It is what the Dark King wants. And that, dear girl, is you.”

My bowels turned to liquid at those words. There was only one Dark King I’d ever heard of — Semphrys, lord of the Otherworld, who fed on the souls of the dead.

“And what does he want with me?” I asked, unable to prevent my voice from shaking. I just needed to keep them talking —keep them distracted — until I could summon the strength to move.

“I do not question my lord and master,” the dark-skinned demon hissed. “I merely exist to do his bidding.”

I swallowed, groping for my witchwood blade. But before I could wrap my hand around the hilt, a third demon landed in front of me.

I only had a moment to glimpse chin-length hair the color of tarnished copper before those enormous wings shot out — blocking the others from view.

“I don’t recall you being granted parole, Jameson,” came a low, smooth voice.

“Leave us, Morkahlf ,” sneered the demon with the long blond hair. “We have business here.”

“I am here on orders from the Dark Prince, which leads me to wonder what business you could possibly have here. ”

“Semphrys wants the witch,” snarled the one called Jameson.

“Mmm. Yes,” mused the newcomer the blond had referred to as Morkahlf . It didn’t sound like a name — more like an unflattering epithet, though I’d never heard it before. “A task which he entrusted to his son — not beasts such as yourselves.”

As odd as their interaction was, I was only half following their argument. In the uproar over the Morkahlf ’s appearance, I’d managed to reach my blade. The metal hummed beneath my fingers, and I felt that tingle of familiar magic.

My head swam as I tried to stand, but I threw all my power into my legs and pushed myself off the ground. My blade made a clumsy arc through the air as I aimed for the narrow span of flesh between the Morkahlf’s wings.

He pivoted faster than I would have thought possible — even for a demon. His eyes narrowed in fury as his hand shot out to capture my wrist, but they weren’t the eyes of a demon. They were a striking hazel marbled with green and gold, and his face . . . I’d never seen a face like his.

It was pale and angular and severely beautiful in a way that Kaden’s was not. There was no amusement in his gaze — no glimmer of a secret joke. He was all hard lines and brutal efficiency as he held my wrist in that iron grip.

Behind him, the one called Jameson advanced.

A slice of agony shot through my shoulder, though it wasn’t from the Morkahlf’s grip. The pain was so sharp and intense that I cried out in pain.

The Morkahlf’s eyes narrowed, studying me.

Jameson didn’t drop his gaze, and I had a feeling that he was responsible for my pain. A sneer twisted his lips, and another burst of pain followed, like a thousand invisible daggers slicing through my skin.

With each invisible cut, I felt the life drain out of me a little more. I screamed, and through my haze of pain, I saw understanding sharpen the other male’s gaze.

“Leave her, blood demon,” the Morkahlf snarled.

I blinked through a reddish haze that had gathered before me — blood. My blood turned to vapor. It hovered in the air around me, tiny droplets suspended by magic.

As I watched, the one called Jameson inhaled deeply. His black eyes rolled back as he breathed in the blood vapor, and there was no mistaking his look of pure ecstasy.

I could feel the power draining out of me as Jameson consumed my blood. I heard the Morkahlf growling at him, but I was already fading.

Blackness pressed in as I fought to stay conscious, wondering why they were arguing.

My blade clattered to the floor, but I didn’t have the strength to reach for it.

Then the Morkahlf sprang back, knocking me out of the way. I was too far gone to break my own fall, and my chin hit the shattered concrete. Swirls of darkness pressed in all around me, and I groped uselessly for my knife.

I was vaguely aware of a struggle taking place, but my hazy mind couldn’t make sense of it. An oppressive heaviness settled over my body — a force that was meant to be soothing but somehow felt all wrong.

The blond’s face swam in my periphery, his nose too flat and snakelike to be considered beautiful. His black eyes gleamed as that weight pressed down on me, and I felt oily tendrils caress my mind .

Low whispers filled my ears, and I hurriedly threw up my mental walls.

Shit .

I was in no shape to fight the demon mind-to-mind. Between the pain wracking my body and the physical exhaustion, my walls shuddered and fell.

Those oily tendrils slipped in farther, wrapping around my mind.

Desperation gripped me, and I tried to summon the Coranthe power that had come to my aid before. But I was too drained to fight, and my magic fizzled uselessly.

The whispers grew louder, and I thrashed against them. I would not let this demon take control of my mind.

Terrified screams filled my ears — my screams, I realized. The demon was inside my head, but I wasn’t going quietly.

Then those tendrils tightened their grip and forced their way into my mind.

All at once, I stopped screaming. My body stopped its desperate thrashing. I had the brief sensation of being made anew. Of being made into . . . nothing.

I had no thoughts. No memories. There was only sensation.

But then a roar shattered the night, and even those oily tendrils seemed to shudder before retracting from my mind.

Everything I’d been and everything I was came flooding back in a rush — the pain, the self-loathing, the void in my chest, but also the fight and the fury.

The ground shook. The demon shrieked. A familiar magic wrapped itself around me, and a pair of dark wings blotted out the night sky.