Page 8 of My Bounty Hunter is a Demon (Demons for Hire)

8

ASPEN

The compass needle wavered in my palm, its ancient magic straining against the fading trail left by Laris’ portal. Dorian's reached out, searching. Dark storm clouds rolled in as we ventured deeper into the industrial underbelly of the city. With each step, the air grew heavier, thick with unseen threats.

Shadows clung to the abandoned factories and warehouses that loomed on either side, their windows black and lifeless. The distant hum of machinery echoed through the empty streets, an eerie heartbeat pulsing beneath the city's slumbering surface. Graffiti crawled across crumbling brick walls, the spray-painted symbols twisting into unreadable warnings.

I focused on the compass, letting its magic guide me forward. But I was hyperaware of Dorian moving alongside me, his steps nearly silent on the cracked pavement. Then he stilled for a moment.

"What?" I asked, my words coming out sharper than I intended.

There was a flicker of something in his eyes before he looked away. "We're getting close."

As if in response to his words, the compass needle spun wildly, its tip glowing white hot. I barely had time to register what that meant before a shimmering wall of energy exploded to life in front of us, its magic crackling across my skin like lightning.

Dorian cursed, throwing up a hand to shield his face as the ward pulsed and expanded, forming a glowing cage around us. Dark runes flared along its surface, their ancient power searing my vision. I reached for my own magic instinctively, gathering it in my palms.

But before I could unleash it, shadows detached from the rooftops above, dropping down to surround us. Figures clad in black, their faces obscured by featureless masks. Enforcers, armed with magic-forged weapons that glinted coldly in the spectral light of the ward.

"This was a setup," Dorian gritted out, shifting into a battle stance beside me. His magic prickled against my senses, razor-sharp and ready.

I flexed my fingers, feeling my own power rising to the surface, begging for release. Every muscle in my body coiled tight, adrenaline surging through my veins. "Then let's break it."

Dorian moved first. A flare of pale energy shot from his outstretched hand, slamming into the ward. The runes flickered and dimmed, and the barrier weakening—just as the first enforcer lunged for him, twin daggers slashing.

I lost sight of Dorian then, surrounded by my own attackers. I let my magic explode outward, a shockwave of pure force that sent the nearest enforcers flying.

They came at me from all sides, a blur of black-clad bodies and glinting steel. I blocked a sword strike with my armored forearm, the metal screeching against the ceramic plates. Then I drove my fist into the enforcer's face, bone crunching beneath my knuckles.

I spun away from the falling body, right into the path of another dagger. This time, the blade scored a line of fire across my upper arm, slicing through leather and skin. I snarled at the sudden, bright flare of pain.

The enforcer pressed his advantage, trying to back me up against the remnants of the ward—but he wasn't expecting me to surge forward instead, answering his daggers with my own. The hilt of my blades grew slick with blood as I carved a path through my enemies, seeking Dorian.

I spotted him through the chaos, a dark figure wreathed in swirling magic and gleaming blades. He fought with deadly grace, his movements a perfect alchemy of martial skill and spell work. I watched him take down three enforcers in the space of a heartbeat, their bodies hitting the ground with muffled thuds.

As if sensing my attention, Dorian's head snapped toward me. Our eyes met through the melee, and I felt that now-familiar jolt crackle between us, like an arcane circuit completing itself. In that moment, I could read his intent as clearly as if he'd spoken it aloud.

I broke left, trusting him to break right. Two more enforcers fell to my blades, their wet, rattling breaths fading behind me. Ahead, I saw the ward flicker and die completely as Dorian's magic ripped it apart.

The last enforcer made the mistake of trying to bolt, his nerve failing. I lashed out with a binding spell, the magic pouring from my fingertips in sizzling arcs. It coiled around him, ruthlessly snatching him back. He struggled against the invisible bonds, his limbs jerking uselessly, before Dorian's sword took him through the throat.

Silence crashed over the street, broken only by the rasp of our breathing and the wet copper tang of blood in the air. I turned slowly to face Dorian, my pulse a loud staccato in my ears.

He stood surrounded by the crumpled forms of the fallen, his own blades dripping crimson. For a long moment, we simply stared at each other, the echoes of the battle still ringing inside my skull.

"Incredible," I said finally, the word scraping past my raw throat.

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "The attack?"

"No." I shook my head, searching for the right way to give voice to the impossible thing I'd just experienced. "Fighting with you. It was like..."

"Like we'd done it a thousand times before," he finished quietly.

I exhaled, slow and shaky, as I realized the full truth of that. It hadn't just been a trained skill that allowed us to predict each other's movements, to sync up our attacks so seamlessly. It had been our magic. Our bond, resonating on a level deeper and more powerful than either of us had anticipated.

Dorian sheathed his blades and crossed to where the leader of the enforcers lay, the one who had tried to run. He crouched down, examining the man's armor. After a moment, he looked up at me, his expression grim.

"There's a sigil here," he said tersely. "One used to mark ritual locations."

Ice crawled up my spine as the implications sank in. I wiped my dagger on my sleeve and stalked over to join him, staring down at the stylized glyph emblazoned on the enforcer's sleeve.

"Laris," I bit out, my hands clenching into fists. "He's close."

Dorian rose to his feet, so near that I could feel the heat of him, the thrum of his magic against my skin. His eyes glittered in the darkness, full of a lethal promise.

"Then let's end this," he said, his voice a low rasp.

And I knew, with a sudden blinding certainty, that there was no one else I would rather have by my side for what came next. No one else I trusted more to help me face the nightmare that awaited us.

No matter the cost.

The stench of dark magic and rotting wood assaulted me as I shoved through the splintered doors of an abandoned church, Dorian on my heels. Shattered stained glass crunched beneath our boots, the once-sacred images perverted by the shadows that lurched and danced on the walls. The altar stood at the far end, twisted by the vile energy pulsing from its surface. And in the center of it all, haloed in a crimson glow, stood Laris.

He raised his hands, skeletal fingers curled like claws, as he chanted in a language that made my skin crawl. At his feet, bound by glowing chains of runes, were the three missing children. Their small bodies spasmed and twitched, wracked by the dark magic siphoning their life force. Bile rose in my throat at the sight, rage and revulsion twisting in my gut.

Laris’ head snapped up as we entered, his eyes twin pits of malevolent hellfire. His lips peeled back from his teeth in a feral grin. "You're too late," he hissed, his voice echoing obscenely through the desecrated nave. "The ritual is nearly complete. Soon, I will be a god."

"Not on my watch," I growled, gathering my power in my palms, letting it crackle and spit between my fingers.

Beside me, Dorian raised his own hands, his magic thrumming in the air like a living thing. "Your reign of terror ends here, warlock ."

Laris laughed, a sound like shattering glass. Then, faster than thought, he lashed out with a bolt of pure malice, a spear of shadow that ripped through the space between us.

I dove to the side, rolling to my feet as the dark energy scored a smoking furrow in the stone where I'd been standing a heartbeat before. Dorian countered with a blast of searing white light, the brilliance burning away the shadows that lunged hungrily for him.

But Laris had the power to spare, stolen from the innocent lives he'd destroyed. The runes encircling the captured children flared brighter, angry red veins pulsing across the floor. I could feel the magic building, a rising tide of malevolence that made my head spin and my stomach roil.

We had to act fast, or this would all be for nothing.

"Aspen!" Dorian shouted over the rising wind, his eyes locking with mine. "I'll hold him off! Free the children!"

I didn't hesitate. Trusting Dorian to keep Laris occupied, I lunged forward, sprinting toward the altar and the small, terrified faces huddled against its base. Dark tendrils whipped at me as I ran, trying to ensnare my limbs and drag me down. I slashed at them with blades of pure arcane energy, my own magic flaring to combat Laris’. Behind me, I heard the crackling roar of Dorian's power as he met the warlock head-on, the very foundations of the church shuddering with the force of their clash.

I skidded to my knees beside the first child, a little girl only six years old. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her body rigid and shaking. The runes binding her pulsed in time with her frantically racing heart.

Gritting my teeth, I reached out with my senses, feeling for the threads of the ritual magic, seeking the knots and anchor points. There—a tangled nexus of energy, feeding directly into Laris. With a thought, I sliced through it, my power razor-edged and precise.

The girl went limp, the runes fading. I caught her as she slumped forward, easing her to the ground before turning to the next child. A boy, this time, his breath rattling in his throat as the dark magic consumed him.

Again, I severed the link, feeling the backlash of the disrupted magic shudder through me like the aftershocks of an earthquake. The boy collapsed, his small form shivering and twitching.

While I worked to free the third and final child, I could see Dorian and Laris locked in battle beyond the altar, magic flashing and exploding between them like arcane fireworks. The air crackled with the scent of ozone and brimstone, making each breath a struggle.

I pushed forward, ignoring the bruises forming on my knees, the blood dripping into my eyes from a cut on my forehead. The last child was the youngest, a little boy barely older than a toddler. His cheeks were wet with tears, his eyes haunted and glassy.

I reached for the final set of runes—only to rear back as they flared blindingly bright, searing my retinas. The burn of foreign magic ripped through my veins, setting every nerve alight with agony.

A trap. Of course. Laris' cruelty knew no bounds.

I screamed, the sound tearing itself from my throat. But I didn't pull away. I couldn't. This child's life depended on me.

Pouring every ounce of my strength, my will, into the effort, I pushed back against the malicious magic, feeling it fighting me every step of the way. It wanted to consume me, to drag me down into an abyss of eternal torment.

But I was stronger. I had to be.

With a final, wrenching effort, I tore through the last threads of the binding, severing the child's connection to the ritual. The altar shattered in a burst of light and thunder, the shockwave slamming into me and sending me crashing back against the wall. Stars exploded across my vision, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth.

Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Laris howl in rage as the abrupt cutoff of the stolen power he’d been channeling occurred. The backlash of the disrupted magic struck him like a physical blow, driving him to his knees. Dorian pressed his advantage, his face a mask of determination as he bore down on the warlock.

I staggered to my feet, my head pounding in time with my racing pulse. The children lay motionless around the ruined altar, their small chests rising and falling shallowly. Alive. We'd done it. We'd saved them.

But it wasn't over yet.

Laris rose from the rubble like a nightmare made flesh, his robes shredded and smoking, his face twisted into a rictus of hatred. "You think you've won?" he spat, blackened blood spraying from his lips. "You've only delayed the inevitable!"

He raised his hands, dark power gathering between his palms, swelling and pulsing like a diseased heart. I recognized the spell he was weaving, and my own heart seized in my chest.

A life-drain. The most profane of magic, one that would steal the very essence from every living creature within reach, funneling it all into Laris.

Including the helpless children.

"No!" The word ripped from my throat, raw and ragged. I pushed off the wall, lunging for the warlock, my dagger flashing in my hand. From the opposite side, I saw Dorian doing the same, his face a mirror of my own desperate fury.

Laris raised his hands to the shattered roof, a fell light spilling from between his fingers. The vortex of malevolent energy expanded, its pull intensifying to a shrieking whirlwind that threatened to lift me from my feet.

But I was already moving, flying across the broken stones, my blade hungry for the kill. Time seemed to slow, seconds stretching into heartbeats that thundered in my ears.

Laris' eyes widened as he saw me coming, as he realized his doom was already upon him. His lips parted. A final curse or a plea for mercy, I would never know.

My dagger sank to the hilt in his chest, piercing his black and withered heart. The warlock staggered back, the light fading from his eyes, the vile magic leaking out of him like a spilled ink. He reached out with a shaking hand, fingers grasping weakly at the air. Then he crumbled, his body disintegrating into a fine black powder that scattered on the wind of his own vanquished power.

The church shuddered and groaned around us, the walls cracking, the roof sagging inward. Dorian grabbed my arm, hauling me back just as a massive beam crashed down where I'd been standing. We stumbled together, nearly going to our knees as the floor buckled and heaved.

"We need to get the children out of here!" Dorian shouted over the rising cacophony.

I nodded, already moving, scooping up the nearest child and thrusting her into his arms before reaching for the other two. The little boy whimpered and clung to me, his small fingers digging into my neck. “I got you, Little Man.”

We ran, leaping fallen masonry, dodging the chunks of ceiling that rained down as the church collapsed in on itself, the dark energies consuming it from within. Dorian shielded us as best he could, his magic deflecting the worst of the debris.

Finally, we burst out into one of the church, gulping down lungfuls of it as we staggered to safety. Behind us, the church imploded with a deafening roar, sending up a geyser of dust and rubble. Then there was only silence, broken by the soft weeping of the children we cradled.

I looked at Dorian over their heads, meeting his gaze, and something passed between us then. A perfect understanding.

He reached out, his hand cupping my cheek, his thumb gently wiping away the ash and blood and tears. "We did it," he said hoarsely. "It's over."

I leaned into his touch, exhaustion crashing over me like a wave. But beneath it, I felt a flicker of something else. Something bright and warm and new, kindling to life in my chest.

"No," I whispered, holding his gaze. "It's only the beginning."