Page 115 of Demon Apathy: Sunderverse
“Get away from her.” Solar shoved me, and I fell on my butt.
Rebecca seemed to lose it then. She released her daughter’s hand, grabbed Solar by the collar of his jacket, and pulled him toward her until their noses were only inches apart. Her face had disfigured into a mask of utter fury, and she looked hella scary, worse than the time she played a cold-blooded murderer in one of her most popular flicks.
“For once, take responsibility for your actions. If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have been out here at this hour. If it wasn’t for you and your underhanded ways, all these people wouldn’t have been here. And she would be all right, warm in her bed. Safe.” With the last few words, her voice broke. “Why would you do this to us? Why?” She let go of Solar’s jacket and sat back on her heels, covering her face and crying into them.
There was a huge lump in my throat as I fought not to cry. If Solar couldn’t see the error of his ways right now, he would never be able to.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Drevan and Jophiel still wrestling each other.
“I’m sorry,” Solar said, blubbering like a baby. “I’m sorry.” He laid his forehead on Lunar’s shoulder. “Please, forgive me. Please, be all right.”
Was this it? Would this regret be enough to redeem him? I had no idea, but I sure hoped so.
Lunar carefully opened one eye and looked at me. I stared at her in surprise. A little smile stretched her lips, and she winked.
What the…?!
My gaze snapped to her wound? Was she even hurt? Were the wounds and blood fake?
Khargon!She must’ve created the illusions.
I searched for the demon back where she’d fallen, but she was gone. Then I spotted her sitting on the roof of a BMW, her knee bent and an arm lazily draped over it as she watched Drevan and Jophiel fight. She was dressed all in leather again, and that fidget spinner was in one of her hands, turning and turning.
Slowly, I rose to my feet, tightening my grip on the Queller. Drevan had pushed Jophiel against the wall. His hand tight around the angel’s wrist, he slammed the gun against the wall, trying to get it loose. They growled as they struggled in a weird dance where neither one seemed able to overpower the other. At least, that infernal dagger, Swiftglory, was nowhere in sight. I did have my sword, though, and I wasn’t opposed to dispatching the angel—not after he’d been so willing to blow my head off.
I stalked in their direction, the sword raised.
Khargon stopped messing with the spinner and sat, dangling both legs over the side of the car. She watched me with interest, and I swear all she needed was a bucket of popcorn. Why in the hell wasn’t she helping?
As Drevan and Jophiel gave a whirl, gritting their teeth and trying to overpower each other, the angel caught sight of me. His green eyes flashed with evil intent, and jerking his arm in my direction, even as Drevan held it firmly by the wrist, he pointed the gun at me and took a shot.
“No!” Drevan screamed.
This time, I was woefully unprepared and barely had time to shift my sword into the path of the bullet, but it was useless. A punch like a hammer blow hit me. My shoulder jerked back as I staggered, then collapsed to the ground, my head and back slamming against the concrete with blinding force.
The world went wonky around me. Knives drove into my temples. My vision blurred. The ground tipped. I struggled for breath, but the pressure in my chest felt like a thousand boots stepping on me, determined to crush my ribs. Unconsciousness pushed against my mind, a tipping force bent on driving me into oblivion. I fought against it, my eyes closing of their own accord, then shooting open, obeying my drunken command not to let go.
A deafening roar echoed through the parking deck, and for a panicked moment, I thought the entire building was coming down. A flash of heat and light, like an explosion, singed my eyelashes as I fought to see what was happening.
The heat was unbearable.
Far away, someone screamed.
“Lunar,” I murmured, reaching a hand toward the spot where she and her family had been. Flames licked the concrete ceiling, columns, and ground, roaring as if they had their own voice. My skin felt as if it were peeling off my flesh. When they found me, I would be nothing but a charred jumble of bones, a twisted skeletal hand holding onto a sword that I never learned to use properly.
“Khargon, help us,” I croaked.
What good was she just sitting there enjoying the show?
No one was coming, and we would burn to a crisp, the most gruesome of deaths.
“Not her!” The voice of a million demons roared. “You willnottake her. You willnotharm her. Not one hair on her head.”
In the depths of that eerie, cruel voice, I thought I heard Drevan. Wincing from pain and shielding my face from the heat with one hand, I lifted my head and peered through the scorching inferno.
In its center, a shape moved, a creature with great wings, so great its tips scraped the ceiling and covered the width of eight parked cars.
Drevan?!
