Page 64 of Hell Sent

The other demon watched Raiya and the others run up the stairs, following her movement with the bright, sharp eyes of a hunter. Interest showed in his expression, and for a horrible moment, Azreth thought he was going to chase her. But the demon turned to him instead, unhurried.

“Where do you come from?” Azreth blurted.

The demon paused, probably surprised to hear him speak at a time like this. Demons didn’t bother exchanging words when there was blood to be shed. Azreth didn’t know why he’d asked the question. It was the sort of immaterial, pointless thing that mortals asked strangers to be polite. But it was what came to mind as he searched for anything that would delay another attack.

The demon started to move, and Azreth quickly spoke again. “I can help you destroy the mortal who bound you.”

The demon paused again. “You wish to serve me?”

Azreth’s entire being rebelled at the idea of being put into servitude again.

“A wise offer,” the demon said.

“I am no servant,” Azreth said sharply. “We can work together to kill the mortal and then go our separate ways, as equals.”

The demon stared at him, bemused.

It was a ridiculous thing to say. It was what Raiya would have suggested. A very short time ago, he had reacted with that same bemusement when she’d made this offer to him. This simply was not the way of the kin.

“Serve me, or die. I will let you choose,” the demon said.

Azreth was afraid. And the other demon could certainly sense it, because Azreth was having a shocking amount of difficulty suppressing his feelings. Perhaps spending so much time among mortals, who felt their emotions so freely, had given him bad habits.

Or maybe it was just that he’d never had so much to lose.

“I am no servant,” he repeated.

The demon looked amused. “Perhaps you will change your mind.” And then he lunged.

Azreth twisted sideways, then backed up another step, and then another, as attacks kept coming. A long talon grazed him, ripping open his forearm. He hissed, lashing out with a spear of magic. It missed, but as the demon came at him again, Azreth dove under his arm and swiped at his thigh with a summoned blade. A cut opened above the demon’s knee, but it did little to slow him down.

They traded blows for what felt like hours but must have been only minutes. Soon they were both adorned with bruises and cuts, and the stones of the walls and floor around them were cracked from the impacts of their bodies.

As Azreth tired, he grew more desperate. He feinted with a longsword and then summoned a smaller dagger to stab at the demon’s opposite side when he leaned away from the feint. He put all his weight behind the attack to ensure it hit home, driving the dagger in just below his ribs.

The demon grunted in pain, but Azreth felt no sense of victory from landing the blow, because he knew he’d overextended, leaving himself open to a counterattack.

The demon grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him into the wall. The back of Azreth’s head hit stone. His vision spotted with black, and then he was on the ground in a pile of rubble, his head throbbing.

The demon stood over him, breathing hard as he flicked blood from his claws—but Azreth’s attention was drawn to something behind him.

Paladin Adamus stood behind the demon, bow and iron-tipped arrow clenched tightly in both hands, his face ghostly white. Azreth couldn’t imagine why he hadn’t left with the others, and for a moment he wondered if he’d been waiting for an opportunity to stab Azreth in the back. But as the demon stepped toward Azreth, Adamus drew the bow and shot at the demon’s back.

The demon shouted, a sound that shook the flagstones beneath them. Blood sizzled as it burned on the iron. He spun, reaching behind himself to rip the shaft from his back. The arrow clattered to the ground. The Paladin should have run with the others, the fool. But instead, he’d given Azreth an opening.

Azreth summoned another sword of magenta light, which he gripped in his flesh-and-blood hand because he didn’t know how much longer he could maintain his summoned arm. Adamus turned to run, but the demon reached out to him with a tendril of magic, lifting the Paladin off his feet. As the demon threw him to the ground, knocking him unconscious—or maybe killing him—Azreth dragged himself up from the floor and lunged.

The demon spun to face him, too late. The blade sank into his chest.

His claws lashed out, cutting everything in reach—Azreth’s arm, his side, his chest. Azreth didn’t try to evade them. He let the attacks come as he pushed the sword harder, cutting deeper. There was a crunch as the blade hit bone. Black gore spilled from the demon’s body.For a moment, he thought he might actually win this fight. If his blade had been iron instead of mere magic, maybe he would have.But bright particles of healing magic were already covering the demon’s wounds.

And then something hit Azreth just above his navel.

It took his breath. All his muscles froze in place. His summoned arm and his sword faded away as he lost concentration on his spells.He looked down, and the demon’s hand was buried in his abdomen. The claws had cut through him like a knife.

The demon dragged his claws up Azreth’s body, ripping through organs and skin. When he’d torn a jagged gash from his waist to his sternum, he threw him to the ground.

Even knowing this injury was too grievous to recover from, Azreth tried to get up. He gave up when the demon’s boot came down hard on his chest, pushing the wind from his lungs. He gritted his teeth. Something in his chest bubbled, and hot blood oozed over his skin. He put his hand to his stomach, and a frail healing spell began to form, but then it guttered out. His magic was spent.

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