Page 40 of Brave Spirit (Bound Spirit #6)

Kaleb

B acked against the far wall of the auditorium, Donovan and I continue to battle what feels like an endless stream of demons.

Every time we strike one down, another takes its place.

Our only saving grace is that they are fighting each other as much as they are attacking us, desperate for the honor of ending the Morningstar line.

My arms, back, and chest ache as I make a wide arc with my magic-infused blade, hoping to push them back and possibly wound a few. It may not instantly kill them, but even a small nick will start to burn and spread.

Donovan slides over to my right side, slicing off a clawed hand that was about to stab me in the kidney. “Dude, you’re getting sloppy with your swings. How are you supposed to keep me alive if you’re bleeding out on the floor?”

Panting for air, I plant my foot against a demon’s gut and shove them back, knocking over several more who were trying to take its place. “My blood will make the floor slick, which should create a more difficult terrain for the demons to hold their ground, and then I’ll just aim for their ankles.”

“I fucking swear, if I die because I slipped on your blood, I will haunt your ass,” he threatens, his voice hoarse from exertion as he slices across another demon’s throat with the magic-infused dagger.

“Left side,” I call out while making another sweeping arc.

Donovan ducks under the blade and pops up on my other side, thrusting the dagger in an upward motion that catches a demon under the ribcage.

“How will you haunt me,” I continue, while using the flat of the blade to block an attack, “if I’m also dead from bleeding out?”

“I’ll be the first ghost who haunts another ghost.” He grunts from taking a punch to the stomach, but he uses the close proximity to stab the demon in the side of the neck. “I will haunt you in the afterlife, even if I have to climb up from hell and scale the fucking pearly gates.”

Shifting my weight to my back foot, I pull my blade back then thrust forward, skewering a wrath demon in the gut.

As it burns around my blade, I respond, “You aren’t going to hell.

You literally revealed who you are as a way to make the demons attack you instead of the others here, and it’s working. ”

I nod my head in the direction of the remaining survivors who have clustered together in a defensive circle, fighting off the few demons who are more interested in destruction than killing Donovan.

The witches, with their magic waning, have created an inner circle around the humans, and they are pooling what magic they have left by holding hands and chanting as one.

The wolf shifters have switched to attacking in turns.

The exhausted and wounded move into the inner circle to change to their human forms so they can heal their wounds and regain some strength before returning to the fight and replacing someone else who is flagging.

Donovan glances over at them and then me, his mouth pulling into a tight line. “Does saving them count if I also take you down with me?”

“We aren’t dead yet,” I remind him, even as the whispers in my mind that he may be right grow louder.

This might be a fight we won’t walk away from.

“And I chose to stay and fight. As shocking as it may be, you aren’t solely responsible for others’ actions.

Besides…” My throat starts to choke up, and my vision begins to blur as I slice the tip of my blade across three different demons’ chests.

“If I’m going to die, this is the way I want to go—fighting to save and protect the innocent with my brother at my side. ”

“Fucking hell, don’t get sappy on me now,” Donovan replies, swinging his leg out low to knock down the human hosts who have managed to fight their way to the front.

He makes their deaths quick in a way that speaks more of a mercy killing than efficiency.

Standing up, he clears his throat, and in a low voice, he adds, “Same.”

Stubbornly, I fight on and take comfort in knowing that in the end, I’m going out as my true self.

I allowed myself to be imperfect in my love for Callie, choosing to grow with her instead of holding myself apart until I could be the perfect boyfriend.

I let go of what other people thought of me and decided to follow the path that would fulfill me.

I don’t want to die, but in these final moments, a strange sense of peace takes over me.

As I settle with the knowledge that this is my last night on earth, there’s a shout above us to get down. Looking like archangels from human lore, my parents swoop down with razor-sharp glaives. Gliding over the mass of demons, they slice through them like stalks of wheat.

With rage-filled screams, the wounded demons fall into each other, creating utter chaos as they try to get back up. The wounds weaken and slow them down, and the pooling blood beneath them creates a difficult surface for them to regain their bearings.

Sudden blurs of movement have the remaining undead vampires pinned to the walls, their shrieks cut short when Nolan’s parents and grandmother slice through their throats with blades that look like they sprang out of a fantasy novel.

As Dalia finishes decapitating her opponent, she states, “May your family find peace with your death.”

When the corrupted spirit rises from the corpse, she doesn’t hesitate to drive the same blade through its chest. I don’t understand how it’s possible, but as she extracts the blade, a vortex opens behind the spirit.

It’s a swirling portal that shows a familiar, barren landscape in the center, and as if invisible hooks reach out from within its depths, the spirit is dragged back to hell.

The same happens to the others that Nolan’s parents attacked.

The blocked entrance explodes into the auditorium, and a huge black lion with a mane of fire leaps across the threshold. As he attacks with razor-sharp claws, fire burns in the wake of his strikes. Mildred and several other members of the coven follow the flaming lion across the threshold.

“Protect the children,” Mildred shouts right before she points at one of the pits of dirt created by the shattered floorboards.

As she starts chanting, a raging fire erupts from the pit, and violent wind reaches out with unseen hands, pulling the demons and everything else not attached to something solid toward the flames.

My parents drop from the sky in front of Donovan and me, stabbing their glaives into the ground as anchors and grabbing each of us around our waists. They hold us tightly, straining against the wind to keep us from being dragged into the fire right along with the demons.

Two witches, anchored by stone and vines, hold each other’s hands and begin casting a spell at rapid speed. A gnarled net of roots breaks through the floorboards and creates a dome over the survivors, holding them in place as the wind grows more powerful.

“It’s my moms,” Mei cries, dropping to her knees within the survivor circle, wincing as she holds a hand to her side. “We’re going to be okay.”

Thankfully, she’s right. Through the combined efforts of the adults in our lives, the demons are defeated and sent back to hell without any more lives lost. All that’s left is dealing with the aftermath.

Donovan and I collapse to the ground, what little adrenaline we had vanishing with the final, vengeful scream of the last demon trapped in hell.

My parents immediately start looking us over, searching for any deep wounds that need immediate attention.

When they find that our injuries, though painful, won’t lead to us bleeding to death, they pull us into comforting embraces.

“You did so well,” my mom murmurs in my ear, rocking me side to side. “I’m so proud of you. It’s okay now. You’re safe.”

My hands are stiff as I relax them enough to release my weapons.

They clang when they hit the ground, sounding wrong to my ears.

Dropping my weapons makes me vulnerable, and how can I protect everyone if I can’t defend myself?

I hear my mother’s words, but they don’t sink in.

Tonight has taught me that we aren’t safe.

Even in this small town, danger will find us.

Looking over her shoulder at the confused souls that will need help crossing and the huddled survivors who are being tended by the witches, I recognize that there are more alive than dead.

Next to me, Donovan grumbles that he’s fine, but he doesn’t fight my father’s hug.

If I wasn’t here, if I didn’t know how to fight, there could have been far more lost souls, and Donovan could have been one of them.

Pulling back so I can look into my mother’s eyes, I take my first step out of the perfect Kaleb mold. “I’m not going to medical school. When the time comes, I’m going with Donovan to fight demons.”

Donovan scoffs then groans from aggravating a wound on his stomach. “Do I get a say in the matter?”

“No,” I answer curtly, refusing to go into all the obvious reasons that he needs me with him.

“Son,” my father begins, his voice taking on that soothing therapist tone, “you’ve been through a lot tonight. It makes sense that you feel the need to fight against demons as a way to take back control. By preemptively attacking them, you feel like you can stop this from happening again.”

Donovan rolls his eyes and then pulls away from my father. “Except that’s not a fucking feeling. It’s a fact. Kaleb has had my back with every demon I’ve ever faced, and guess what? The demons are dead, and we aren’t. Why bother training him at all if you never expected him to fight?”

“Because it’s important he knows how to defend himself,” my mother counters, her voice straining to remain calm.

“I don’t see a lot of demon attacks in an operating room,” Donovan challenges, surprising me that he’s pushing this hard to defend my decision.