Page 55 of Sin

“Upstairs. Third-floor balcony.”

Almost as if we’d summoned them, five winged bastards stormed down the staircase Grim and Merri had just used.

“How the fuck did they get in?” Grim’s voice was cold as steel, threatening retribution for Malice’s security system failing.

I pushed forward, leveling my gaze on Sin. The how didn’t matter right now. Only neutralizing the threat. “Stay with her. Do not let her out of your sight.” Then I looked to Malice. “You too. Grim, you’re with me.”

Grim’s answering smile was pure death. Appropriate, really, given who he was.

“They won’t get past me,” he promised.

Not for the first time, I was thankful he was on my team.

Death and War always walked side by side into battle. We’d decimate these intruders and use their ashes as fertilizer for Grim’s precious plants.

“Ah, look, they sentgrandpèreto welcome us.Comme c'est... délicieux.” The first of what I assumed to be pride demons—based on the black feathered wings and celestial perfection of his face—crooned in a French accent.

My gaze flicked to Grim’s. This was worse than we thought. “The Prince.”

“Our master didn’t mention the horsemen. She must be very special indeed.” This came from a second demon, his Russian accent thick and laced with smug assurance. “I see the fear in your eyes, mighty warrior. Our master wants what you have.” His comrades’ chuckles filled the room as they stood in wait. “Give her to us, and we’ll make this a swift and painless end for you.”

Grim released a deep growl as he removed his gloves and dropped them on the polished marble floor. Closing the distance between him and the Russian demon, he sneered, “Unfortunately for you, I won’t do the same.”

My smirk couldn’t be contained as Grim wrapped his bare hand around the demon’s throat. Watching the light leave their eyes was always my favorite part of witnessing Grim use his power. I could’ve done with more combat leading up to the main event, but in cases such as these, we didn’t have time to pussyfoot around.

The demon clutched his throat, and his eyes flew wide open as he gasped and wheezed dramatically. “Not... the hand... of death.” He carried on with his over-the-top spectacle for a few more seconds before breaking off in a dark chuckle. “Do you mind? I’ve got a date later and don’t want to bruise.”

Grim looked down at his hands in confusion, letting go with a rasped, “What?”

The first demon grinned. “One must have a soul to be reaped, Grimsby. Or has it been so long since you’ve come across our kind that you’ve forgotten the rules?”

Truth be told, we hadn’t encountered a Knight before; the apocalypse had never gotten far enough for one to rise. Upon the release of one of the seven Princes of hell, so too would their Knights—soulless beings bound in servitude to their prince. Together, the Princes and Knights formed the Army of the Apocalypse, with Lucifer at the helm. Technically, my brothers and I were supposed to have a place amongst their ranks, but when we chose to stand against Lucifer and protect Merri, we’d dropped that mantle.

If Grim’s death touch wouldn’t fell these enemies, it was down to me and my weapons. Calling upon my power, I first attempted to manifest the shield of War, but instead of the red-and-black plated armor I donned when striding through battlefields, nothing materialized.

I was still weakened from my time as Hel’s battery.

“Fucking Hel and her fucking ritual,” I grumbled before switching tactics. I’d been a Spartan before I was a horseman. Fought battles wearing nothing but the blood of my enemies. All I needed was a blade.

This time when I called on my power, twin blades formed in my hands.

The demons weren’t laughing anymore when I loosed a battle cry and charged forward. I dispatched Frenchie with a single slice through his neck. His head rolled down the stairs with a satisfying plop.

“Who’s next?” I asked, glory surging through my veins as I charged up the next couple of steps to one of the three possibilities, trusting Grim to handle himself with the Russian asshole.

Two females attempted to lunge at me simultaneously, one from each side. They snarled and hissed, claws bared and fangs on display.

I easily dodged them, whirling around and slashing each of them across their faces before crouching down and driving my blades up and through their chins on my ascent.

“Not so pretty now, are you?” I gloated, pulling my blades free and watching their bodies drop.

The last demon tried to run, no longer feeling so confident about a face-off with me.

I let him get to the top of the stairs before throwing my sword like a lance and pinning him through the heart. The tip of the blade sank into the wall behind him, holding him there like a grisly showpiece. Who said art wasn’t fun?

Perhaps I should pin them all up and display them like the insects they were.

Grim had the Russian on the floor, blood bubbling up from the demon’s lips as his chest was slowly crushed under Death’s boot.

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