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Deciding the imps were right, Luka focused on the clerics ahead of him. He threw a hellfire grenade right at the swarm. Sand flew upward, fire roared, voices cried out, bodies hit the ground.

While several clerics took cover—hiding behind trees, shrubs, or wind-worn rock formations—others launched attacks.

Chanting filled the air moments before glowing white vines of magick soared toward Luka. They barreled into him, zapping his every nerve ending with burning-hot jolts of electricity.

Gritting his teeth at the fast-blistering burns, he snapped a telekinetic hand around his attacker’s throat, cutting off his air supply until finally the cleric went limp.

More glowing white streams came his way as he dumped the body on the ground. He slammed up a telekinetic barrier, shielding himself from the blows, then shoved that barrier forward hard . It crashed into several clerics, knocking them clean off their feet.

His entities smirked—wanting their prey’s fear, craving their blood, relishing their pain. And very much wishing that they could be at Naomi’s side as her demon quite literally burned shit down.

Nikandr flinched with a hiss as a pure-white orb blindsided him. “Christ, they hurt like a bitch.”

He wasn’t wrong.

A bald head popped up from behind a boulder, and the cleric sent twirling ribbons of pure-white magick at Luka. They slammed into his leg so hard it almost gave out. Fuck.

Ignoring the cramping throb, he lashed out with a telekinetic blast that made the boulder explode and collapse on top of his attacker.

A large number of clerics bolted, heading left. A wall of red-violet fire shot up in front of them, blocking their path. Other Eliouds headed for the right, only to skid to a halt as they too found themselves facing a flaming wall.

Curses rang out from the Lemures . They were stuck, weren’t going anywhere, and they knew it.

It made Luka’s entities smirk.

Helpless rage clear in their expressions, the Eliouds attacked as a whole—some targeting Naomi’s entity, the rest aiming at Luka and the demons near him.

Hellfire. Chaos. Destruction. Magick. It all reigned supreme over the landscape right then.

Thanks to stray blows, trees were split in half, shrubs caught fire, and rocks imploded.

Both sides fought hard. Nikandr and Mikhail remained either side of Luka, launching bolts and beams of hellfire, watching his back as he watched theirs.

Tobe alternated between releasing blasts of hellfire and psychic blows.

Ciaran frequently teleported from spot to spot, dodging magick hits, snapping necks, and reaching clerics who’d taken cover.

Meanwhile, Jolene had thrown up a shield that protected herself, Beck, Tia, and Alfie from incoming magickal attacks as they aimed to take down as many clerics as possible with hellfire.

Having taken out yet another cleric, Luka spared a look at Naomi. Her demon was still firmly in charge, pursuing the Eliouds at a slow, purposeful, confident walk, still looking the pure embodiment of defiled divinity.

The heat radiating from it was blistering—waves of it danced in the air. Needing a reprieve, he shed his suit jacket and tossed it on the ground.

More flames burst out of the entity—some slicing clean through bodies to cleave them in half, others snatching them off their feet and throwing them into the rays of near-blinding light still at its back.

No, not rays of light, he realized, his lips parting. Flames .

The flames of hell.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

“What?” asked Nikandr, swiping his palm over his face to wipe away the layers of dust there.

“A portal,” said Luka. “Her entity has opened a fucking portal to hell.”

“It what ?”

Some clerics twisted to attack the demon, but the red-violet flames surrounding it seemed to take the edge off the impact of their blows, because it showed no signs of pain. On the contrary, it—

A heavy gust of magick punched Luka right in the solar plexus, sending the breath gushing out of his lungs.

A second gust headed his way, pissing him off.

He telekinetically deflected the magickal strike, retaliating with a telekinetic punch that made the cleric’s head snap back so violently it broke his neck.

As the dead body slumped to the ground, Luka hurled an orb of hellfire at an approaching cleric. But the Elioud tripped over a clump of aloe spears, causing the orb to miss him. It collided with the branch of an acacia tree instead, setting it alight.

Once the cleric stood, Luka struck out again, using a harsh blast of telekinesis. The Elioud almost folded in half with the impact as he zoomed backward into a large rock formation, smacking his skull hard.

“Her demon’s just toying with them really, isn’t it?” It was a realization from Nikandr, not a question. “If it had wanted to, it could have wiped them out fast. It wants to feed on their terror and pain, not merely watch them die.”

Luka sighed, using the heel of his palm to rub away grit from the corner of his eye. “Something like that.”

Twisting vines of magick rushed at him from another angle, the pain like the stabbing of scalding-hot razor-sharp blades.

Hissing, he telekinetically plucked his attacker off the ground and threw him at a tight cluster of his brothers, knocking two down.

He then launched a hellfire grenade at the small group, taking them all out at once.

Again he stole a moment to check on Naomi. There. Her entity was closer now, and he could better see the portal behind it. A hellish background of shimmering fire, crimson skies, and scorched land. The relentless heat made sweat dot his skin.

His attention was snagged by a new presence not far from the entity—a figure engulfed in ultraviolet flames.

It wasn’t attacking Naomi’s demon; no, it was aiding it, lashing out with whips of ultraviolet fire that wrenched agonizing screams out of its victims. Any time said whips missed their target and smacked the ground, they sent a brief tremor through it.

Mikhail frowned. “Is that . . . is that Lucifer?”

It would appear so. “He lives in hell, so he wasn’t likely to miss a portal opening.” Or to sit out a battle that involved his daughter.

“I guess he wanted in on the fun,” said Mikhail with a loose shrug.

Luka’s demons desperately wanted to surface and have their own fun, but he couldn’t trust that they wouldn’t attempt to get to Naomi, arrogantly sure that their mate would never harm them even in such a fury.

He also didn’t trust that they wouldn’t wander into the portal out of morbid curiosity—they were easily distracted by shiny things.

Noticing a hoop of magick heading right for him, Luka jerked aside before it could hook around his neck. He was about to take his attacker out, but Nikandr did the job for him, lancing a beam of hellfire through the cleric’s body.

Luka gave his bodyguard a curt nod of thanks.

It was only a moment later that another cleric conjured an orb of magick and pitched it at him.

He dodged it and retaliated with a telekinetic wave that sent his attacker crashing into a withered tree.

There was a loud crack as splits spiderwebbed through the trunk.

The Elioud hit the uneven ground hard, making a cloud of dust fly up.

There weren’t many clerics left, he quickly realized. A barrage of hellfire, holy magick, psychic hits, and telekinetic power still flew back and forth, but most blows were demonic in nature at this point.

“We need to back up some,” announced Tobe loudly. “We don’t want to be too close to the last of these clerics when Naomi’s demon and Lou target them. We could get caught in the crossfire.”

“He’s right,” said Jolene. “Start retreating.”

They all did exactly that, watching as father and daughter—both looking like walking flaming torches—stalked after the remaining clerics. Some Eliouds hid, some tried fleeing, and the rest fought back.

None managed to escape the creatures of fire.

They were whipped. Chopped in half. Set alight. Thrown through the portal.

Voices screamed. Begged. Chanted. Swore. Yelled out in anger.

One by one, the number of clerics went down . . . and down . . . and down. Until, finally, none were left.

Naomi’s entity then turned its attention to Luka and the other demons, no hint of recognition in its expression.

Luka reached out psychically. You did good. It’s over now. The threats to you and Naomi are gone. Let her come back to me.

The entity regarded him through narrowed eyes for long moments, then it subsided. Naomi’s gray-green gaze met his, a slight daze there. And then his girl collapsed.

A telepathic voice broke into Naomi’s sleep, the words muffled and rhythmic. She couldn’t make them out, her thoughts too slow and cottony.

Exhaustion pooled in her mind, her limbs, her extremities, everything.

Her senses seemed dull. She was aware of low voices, of soft bedsheets, of a dark, spicy cologne, of a hand holding hers, of a thumb pressed to her pulse. But she felt somehow disconnected from it all. As if the outside world was so very far away.

She felt wiped. Drained. Psychically burned out.

It would be easy to let herself doze back off, but that telepathic voice kept moving through the fog in her brain, the words . . . No, they weren’t mere words, they were lyrics .

The person was singing. And that voice was one she recognized well.

Why are you singing? she asked.

A pause. Because you wouldn’t wake up, and it annoyed me , clipped Lou. I want to hear that you’re fine.

I’m fine , she assured him. Totally out of it, but fine.

Good. Now sleep. You need your rest.

Then why did you wake me?

Because . . . Oh, forget it. His psyche gently bumped hers, and then he was gone. That was right when all sorts of images poured into her mind. Memories of fleeing clerics, of blazing fire, of . . . Ah, shit, her demon had opened a freaking portal to hell.