Page 12 of Demanding Discord
I rose and spun, my senses heightened, searching for sounds or the stink of his breath…anything to alert me to his presence on this plane. The crackling of the fire was all I heard. My pulse thrummed, and I took shallow breaths, my gaze darting around the room as I slipped a dagger from my thigh holster.
I sensed nothing.
My stomach sank. Had he returned to the next chamber to continue his assault on Cinder? If I dematerialized the wall I’d created, my strength would diminish even more. I barely had enough in me to fight as I stood.
“You’ll never earn a place by Lucifer’s side,” I said. “There will always be someone better than you.”
A low growl rumbled to my left. Good. I had his attention.
“In my absence, he chose Ruin,” I continued my taunt. “He never believed you could fulfill the role.”
“When I bring him both your heads, he will understand my worth.” The energy shifted in front of me, and Tumult’s arm in demonic form jutted from the next plane to swipe at my shoulder.
I side-stepped his advance, but he clocked me in the jaw with his other hand before fading again. Pain lurched upward to my temple, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of witnessing a reaction.
“Lucifer created me to stand by his side.” I tightened my grip on the knife. “Even if you could beat me, you would never live up to his standards. You will eternally be nothing more than second best.”
Footsteps pounded on the stone, Tumult’s form slipping onto this plane as he charged toward me, claws and teeth bared. I parried, sinking my blade into his shoulder before yanking it out and using his momentum to propel him across the room. He crashed into a dog statue at Hecate’s feet, knocking it from its stone base and breaking it into three pieces.
The temple groaned as if it had felt pain. Dust rained from the ceiling.
Tumult sat up, clutching his injured shoulder and slipping between planes. “You can’t beat me. My power makes it impossible for you to catch me.”
“Your power is bred in cowardice.” I cast my gaze upward. Fine cracks lined the columns supporting the ceiling. “You hide like a child rather than fight like a man.”
“I am no coward.” He appeared three feet to my left, spreading his arms in welcome. “If a fight is what you want, come and get me. I’m here.”
I lunged, lashing out with my knife and striking at his chest.
He disappeared in a wispy mist, his deep laugh sounding behind me. “Or am I here?”
I turned and lunged once more. Again, my knife passed through nothing more than mist.
“Perhaps I am here.” He appeared at the foot of Hecate’s statue. “Or here.” A second image of Tumult formed atop her head.
“Boo,” he said, his rancid breath heating my ear half a second before he plunged his claws deep into my back…so deep they protruded from my chest, racking my entire body with agony.
I coughed, and blood poured from my mouth. He had penetrated a lung, missing my heart by less than an inch.
“I’ll take your head now.” He shoved me to my knees and wrenched the knife from my grasp.
“Only a coward takes out their enemy from behind,” I spat and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
He grabbed my hair, jerking my head back as he moved into view. “I hope she was worth it.”
He raised his arm, prepared to sever my head. He was not prepared, however, for what I did next. Simple punctures healed much more quickly than jagged tears, and my lung had already mended.
I sucked in a breath and swept out a leg, knocking him from his feet. The knife clattered to the floor, sliding across the smooth stone and resting at the statue’s feet. Tumult’s form wavered, slipping away, but I refused to continue his cowardly spar.
Clutching his arm, I sank my teeth into his flesh. Had I been in demon form, I could have bitten through bone. My blunt, human teeth lacked the strength to sink all the way through, so I bit hard and jerked my head, removing a chunk of his flesh.
I spat it into my hand and rose before kicking him in the gut. He groaned, his eyes growing wide with fear as he realized what I had done, and he scrambled to his feet, facing me in a defensive stance.
“What’s wrong, my friend?” I asked, my tone condescending. “Are you unable to hide without your body intact?”
His eyes narrowed, his glare turning to ice. “I will heal.”
“Not while I still have breath in my lungs.” I leaped toward the knife, sliding across the floor, my arm outstretched.
