Page 63 of The Wishing Game

"Damn you," I force the words out as I lash out, hitting him with my fists. Although I get some blows on him, they do little else but enrage him.

Opening his mouth, he lets out a deafening roar that not only physically hurts my eardrums but also pollutes the air all around.

I can't even die with dignity, can I?

Yet just as I think he's going to swallow me up with that stinky orifice some might call a mouth, I drop to the ground.

Whaaat?

I draw in a ragged breath, my pulse becoming more and more erratic as I dread to imagine these are my last moments on this earth.

But before I can blink, the entire corridor comes alive, light infiltrating every particle.

SIXTEEN

Iblink slowly, taking a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light. And then, I blink again, afraid I'm seeing wrong.

A giant of a man is with his back to me, dressed in an all-black ensemble and wielding a marble-white sword as he faces the demon. But that's just the first startling detail. The second is that the demon is writhing in pain, muddy blood flowing from his severed arm.

And that severed arm...well, that's currently still attached to my bodice.

As my eyes dip to where his claws are tightly wrapped in the purple material, I let out a shrill scream, pulling with both hands on the grotesque arm in an attempt to dislodge it.

"Be quiet, human," the man in black states in a deadpan voice, not even bothering to look at me. All at once, I realize yet another thing. This isn't Cer—though his physique is similar. His voice is nothing like Cer's.

The rebuke instantly quiets me, and I frown at my odd acquiescence. My mouth opens and closes, but I can't find any reply—not when he might be my only chance of survival.

The stranger maneuvers his sword to the side, the white catching some of the light and reflecting it directly at the demon. There is a flash of foreign symbols on the sword that seem to be pulsating with life. The demon gives another loud yelp of pain before he disappears.

Just like before in the auditorium, he simply vanishes.

I stare at the empty spot, shocked that the demon would leave like that. Yet my shock only mounts when a hissing sound directs my attention to the severed arm currently lying by my side. Bubbles erupt to the surface, and like a corrosive acid, the arm dissolves until there's nothing left behind.

What the hell...

"Why are you not getting up?" the same harsh voice demands.

I whip my head up, my gaze instantly becoming belligerent at his tone and word choice.

He has cropped dark hair, a strong jaw and cheekbones, and the darkest irises I've ever seen. His eyes are big and round, framed by thick, black lashes that would make any woman envious. His expression is neutral as he stares down at me. With slow, deliberate movements, he stashes his sword away in the scabbard secured at his waist.

"And who are you?" I ask curiously.

He continues to stare at me. From this angle, there's something familiar about him.

"Do you know Cer and Thea, by any chance?" I inquire. Once more, I'm struck by an odd familiarity. His features are reminiscent of Cer's. Although their coloring might be different, the bone structure, eye shape, and even the nose are almost identical.

He regales me with a grunt, his eyes scanning my bloody neck and bodice with assured disinterest.

"Get up," he orders, and something about his tone irks me.

"You should say please," I shoot back in annoyance.

His expression doesn't change.

He merely blinks in a bored manner.

Pushing my palms to the ground, I attempt to stand up, only to fall back on my ass again, a low whimper of pain slipping past my lips.

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