Page 28 of Reaper (Quincy Harker Demon Hunter #10)

A nthony and Steve were going at head other hammer and tongs.

And seriously, these are like the least intimidating monster names ever.

Even WWE does better. At least they came up with “The Boogeyman,” although they also put the belt on a white guy named John almost twenty times.

But really, after vanquishing a muscle-bound bruiser named Janik, now I was supposed to fight…

Tony and Steve? It felt like a rewatch of Civil War .

All I needed was for one of them to say they could do this all day.

And frankly, it looked like they both could do this all day if they needed to.

The faerie knight and the were-rat had obviously sparred together a lot because they knew all of each other’s moves and counter-moves.

Whenever Steve slashed out with his blades, Tony leaned back just enough to get out of the way, but never so much that he overbalanced and couldn’t respond with a quick punch or kick.

It was kinda like watching a masterclass in close-quarters combat, except for the fact that I either had to tip the scales, or fight the winner.

And I wasn’t completely sure I could take either of them in a fair fight.

Good thing the Boss didn’t give a shit about fair, then, wasn’t it?

As I stood off to one side of their lethal waltz, trying to find the perfect spot to cut in and reduce my number of opponents by one, two doors opened in the arena walls.

Apparently as the number of fighters dropped, the number of monsters was going to increase.

Fantastic. I could only hope it wasn’t going to be another goddamned snake.

So of course as soon as I saw what it was, I wished it was another goddamned snake.

This time it was a pair of monsters converging on us from opposite sides of the arena, and at least one of them was going straight for Tony.

It was a little bastard, but I knew this was one situation where size definitely didn’t matter because the three-foot tall hunch-backed creature with a sickle in each hand and razor-sharp teeth was grinning as it charged the faerie knight, eager for a nibble on some royal seelie ass.

If its appearance didn’t give it away, the blood dripping from its crimson newsboy hat certainly would have.

This was a redcap, a fae monster with a taste for blood, and the more the better.

Legend said that its hat wasn’t actually red when it was first acquired, but that the monster dipped it in the blood of its victims so often that it was permanently dyed.

And it was streaking across the sand at Tony’s unprotected back.

Just as I readied myself to jump in and help a guy who I would have to then try to beat the shit out of, I remembered that there was another door, and probably another monster.

I whipped my head around just in time to meet the fist of a massive Torment demon, all eight feet tall and literally bulletproof of him.

I turned my head enough that the first punch didn’t catch me square, but the follow-up shot to my ribs lifted me off my feet and dropped me to my knees.

I was spending way too much time in this fight staring either at the dirt or the lights, but before I could solve that problem, I had to not get my ribs staved in by the massive foot swinging at them.

I caught the demon’s shin under my arm, getting a good grip on the beast’s leg, and stood, throwing the demon off balance.

It dropped to its back on the sand, and as its other leg came up, I tucked that under my other arm and started to spin.

It took a few revolutions before the centrifugal force kicked in and floated the eight-foot-tall demon off the sand, but after a few high-speed spins, I was able to let go of the beast’s ankles and send it sailing.

I got good air, sending the demon a good twenty feet before it slammed to the dirt, but I had barely a second to catch my breath before a flicker of light drew my attention, and I got a shield-wrapped arm up barely in time to send one of Steve’s throwing knives clattering away.

I glared at the smirking were-rat, who gave me a “had to try” shrug before turning back to Tony, who was now dividing his attention between Steve and the redcap, who had eyes only for the faerie knight.

I held no illusions about that, though—the second Tony went down, the redcap would be after another target.

They’re the Tasmanian Devils of Faerie—complete psychopaths that exist only to shred anything in their path.

If Anthony went down, one of us would have to deal with the redcap, but we’d be doing it without the expert in kicking faerie ass.

But for now, I had a Torment demon to deal with.

Now, Torment demons are like the offensive linemen of the demon world.

They’re huge, strong as fuck, and almost impervious to pain.

They have some magic resistance, and they’re completely immune to mundane weapons, but the biggest problem, aside from their strength, speed, razor-sharp claws, and general hunger for blood and agony, is their healing.

They can heal from almost any injury, so usually you only get one shot to kill them.

And the time for my one shot was fast approaching, as the demon I’d flung across the ring was now on his feet and hauling ass back in my direction, looking even more pissed off than before, if that was possible.

The last time I tangled with Torment demons, I’d had a whole team of superfriends by my side.

This time, I had just my power, my wits, and a few new dirty tricks I’d learned in the past half a dozen years.

One of those dirty tricks involved, coincidentally enough, sand and the application of a fuckton of heat to it.

I stretched out my arms at the ground in front of the charging demon, called power, and shouted, “ Fuego! ” at the top of my lungs.

Fire streaked from my palms to the sand, turning it to glass and trapping the demon in mid-stride.

For about half a second. I didn’t expect a full-grown Torment demon to be stopped by essentially a set of glass ankle bracelets, and it wasn’t.

What I did expect was a sheet of glass to coat the ground in front of me, splintering with the first step of the demon’s heavy foot.

Which happened. I also expected to be able to grab one of those splinters and wrap it in my own magic, which also happened.

Then I took my improvised sword and, dropping to one knee to give me a stronger base to strike from, swung the magically imbued shard at the onrushing demon’s midsection, slicing it neatly in half right above its bellybutton.

That Newton guy was pretty smart because the demon in motion definitely stayed in motion, even though its brain was no longer communicating with its feet.

The demon took two full steps before it got the message that it was now two halves of a demon instead of one whole, and fell to the sand in a messy splat of entrails, organs, and blood.

“No healing from that, bitch,” I said, tossing the shard of glass to the ground and turning to look at the trio of Tony, Steve, and the redcap.

Except it wasn’t a trio anymore. Steve was lying on the ground screaming and clutching his knee, and Tony had two of the were-rat’s knives buried in the redcap’s eye sockets.

As I watched, he dropped the fae creature’s corpse to the sand, wiped his blades on the monster’s pants, and turned to me with a grin.

“Ready for a rematch, Murray?” he asked, tossing the knives aside and raising his hands in a guard position.

“You could always just concede,” I replied, calling a shield around my left forearm and rolling my head from side to side.

I was low on mojo after turning ten feet of sand to glass with magical fire, but I knew that the only way I’d beat a faerie knight in a clean fight was if he had both hands tied behind his back in cold iron shackles.

“Where’s the honor in that?” Anthony asked, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he was arrayed in his full armor, somehow having summoned it through the Colosseum’s defenses.

That’s just not fucking fair, I thought. I have to spend magic like it’s water dealing with a Torment demon, and he blinks his eyes and ends up wearing full plate armor.

You’re right, Becks’ voice came in my head. It’s not fair. But when have you ever given a single solitary shit about fair? Suck it up, Buttercup, you’ve got a fight to win and a faerie’s ass to kick. Now take off your fucking skirt and go be the badass motherfucker you claim to be!

As motivational speeches go, it was pretty goddamned good. I summoned my soulblade, expanded my energy shield to cover my whole body, and saluted Anthony with my blade. “Let’s dance, motherfucker,” I said, letting a grin slide across my face.

I could barely see Tony’s matching grin through his helm, then he leapt at me with a battle cry, covering twenty feet in a single bound.

I didn’t try to jump up and meet him, because like Tom Petty said, coming down is always the hardest goddamned thing.

I just watched him fly, judging his descent carefully, then stepped to the side and slashed at his midsection with my flaming sword.

He blocked my slash, and the ring of enchanted steel versus magical blade was nearly deafening, drowning out the roar of the crowd for a moment.

Then he was spinning, raising his blade in a parry, and striking down at my skull.

I couldn’t tell if he was trusting me to be good enough to dodge or block his lethal strikes, or if he was just all wrapped up in bloodlust and didn’t give a shit if he killed me.

It didn’t matter, I was in a fight for my life whether I meant to be or not.

I slid sideways and spun, letting my momentum carry me into what would have been a devastating cut across his middle if I’d connected.

Of course I didn’t, as Tony swung his sword around to block.

I pushed forward, trying to bind his blade with mine, but he spun his sword around as he backed away, pulling the hilt from my hand.

He grinned as my soulblade winked out of existence, and rushed me, grinning.

“I thought you would know better than to let yourself be disarmed so easily, Murray,” he said as he came at me.

“I thought you would know better than to let me call up my soulblade right into your guts,” I replied, a wicked grin of my own splitting my face as I did just that.

A gleaming three-foot blade manifested in my hand as he ran toward me, and as I swatted his blade away with my shielded left hand, I shoved the entire sword into his chest, letting his momentum carry him onto my blade.

I swear I saw the white flames flicker in his eyes as the sword emerged from his back, but it was probably an illusion.

“Well, fuck,” he said, sagging against me as he dropped his own blade to the ground. I caught him, banishing my soulblade with a thought, and immediately started pouring power into my wounded…okay, friend probably isn’t the right word, but it’s as close as anything I’ve got.

Either way, I threw power at him until the worst of his wounds healed, and I shouted to the ceiling, “A little help in here!”

All the doors in the walls opened, and a team of white-clad minions flowed out into the arena to tend to both Steve and Anthony. I stepped back to let them do their work and shouted up at the luxury boxes, “As if there was any fucking doubt, here’s your winner, MURRAY FUCKING JAMES!”