Page 7 of Demon Apathy: Sunderverse

I unsheathed the Queller and cocked my head to examine the shackles. “I’ll cut the chain, then later we can see how to get rid of the cuffs.”

He nodded.

I planted my feet and angled the sword.

“Be careful. One little nick, and I’ll be gone.”

“But you could come back, right?”

He shook his head. “No, I mean I would be dead.”

“What? How? I thought when you quelled a demon, they just went back to hell.”

“Not with that sword.”

I knew Striker’s Queller was special, but not like that, able to actually kill demons.

“I’ll explain later,” Drevan said.

I nodded, mostly to dissipate my confusion, and bit my lower lip to hide the shuddering breath that raked through me. Drevan could die. The thought upset me more than I could’ve imagined. Knowing that nothing could harm him had been a comforting thought, especially considering that he was involved in dangerous celestial matters.

My hands started shaking. “Maybe you should have kept that bit of information to yourself,” I said as I tried to steady my hold on the sword.

“Sorry.” He smiled crookedly, his face holding a sexy expression capable of igniting any girl’s lacy underwear.

I narrowed my eyes and hardened my resolve. I would cut him down, take him to Phenog so she could transport him to safety, and then I would be on my way back to St. Louis, to the life I’d been so carefully planning.

“Don’t move,” I warned.

He grew serious and stood eerily still.

I pulled the sword back and struck the first chain. There was a loud sizzle as metal struck metal. The sword flashed with an intense white light, and the chain and hellcuffs turned molten red. Drevan clenched his teeth and moaned in pain, his face contorting, his shoulder muscles tensing. The smell of burned flesh filled the air.

“Shit, are you okay?”

He continued to shrink in pain for a long minute, but then the manacles returned to their previous color, cooling. At last, he opened his eyes and looked up at me.

“Why didn’t you tell me it would hurt like that?” I demanded.

“It would’ve made no difference. Cut the other one. I’m ready.”

He looked anything but ready. In fact, it was the first time I’d seen fear in his eyes. I hesitated.

“Do it quickly before I lose my courage.” He nodded toward the remaining chain.

“I’m sorry,” I said as I lifted the sword and cut the second chain.

Drevan fell to his knees, and I was sure that under other circumstances, he would’ve been screaming at the top of his lungs. Instead, his spine curved over bent knees while he clenched his fists and groaned.

I kneeled next to him, a hand hovering over his back. I wanted to comfort him, but I was afraid my touch would startle him. I watched the cuff closely, urging the searing heat to pass quickly, but it seemed to take an eternity to get back to normal. When it did, Drevan straightened slowly, taking deep breaths, and rolling his neck. It cracked audibly, making me wonder how long he’d been standing in such an uncomfortable position.

Turning to me, he said, “Thank you.”

I sputtered a laugh. “I’m not sure I deserve any gratitude.”

Peering down at his wrists, I found that the skin under the cuffs was red and swollen. I was sure a regular person wouldn’t have survived the searing torture he just had, and the damage would’ve been much greater.

Tentatively, I lifted a hand and touched a slightly raised bump on his forearm. “Your wrists will heal like this did, right?”