Page 23 of The Prince of Demons

“He’s little, but he’s not a kid,” the one closest laughed. “He’s just as old as you.”

The one behind me grabbed my collar and tugged. I got pulled back, thrashing. “Let go of me!”

“Go back to Halloween, fish. Leave this to the seniors.” They exchanged a look. I noticed the winged insignia on their shirts.

“Very angelic of you,” I gritted out with clenched fists. “To beat up someone for being sick.”

“He’s a liability,” the smaller one said. “Ruins the party to have puking, drunk people everywhere.”

I heaved my wings back, forcing myself free, and made my way back to the sick one. I brushed his hair back with my hand to check his forehead. He was feverish, eyes closed, and clammy.

“Consider my party ruined, then. I’m taking him back to the infirmary.”

One of them moved to grab me, and my wing snapped out, knocking him flat on his behind.

“Thanks, Gaksi.”

“Back off,” I growled.

“You’ll pay for that!”

They both rushed me, and I panicked, covering the boy with my wings. Gaksi was so connected to me, he did what I wanted intrinsically. Was I strong enough, or sober enough, to take out two?

“Listen to the lady,” a rumbling voice called out from the shadows of the cave.

No.

My spine tingled with recognition. I’d know that voice anywhere, in any universe, at any time.

“Who—”

Snap.

The boys toppled.

No.Not now. Not so soon.

The boy in my arms was warm just a second ago.

My wings blocked us like a shield as I heard the soft steps of the Reaper.

“You’re supposed to carve out and eat men’s hearts, not heal them.” His deep voice echoed off the walls of the cave.

“Perhaps I’ll start with yours.” I flexed my wings, faking bravado. “You wouldn’t get that close,” Reaper retorted.

“I’m close now, aren’t I?” Stall. I had to stall.

Reaper couldn’t be here right now. Because he came to collect the dead, and this kid was alive just now, just mere seconds ago…

“Move aside, little seraphim,” he whispered. I shuddered, feeling his hot breath against my neck. How could he feel so… warm and human? Weren’t demons dead themselves? Shouldn’t he have been cold?

His hands brushed the tip of my wings, sending a quiver through my soul.

“You are not wanted here,” I breathed. “Get the hell out.”

“Wanted or not, I am here nonetheless.” His touch vanished, and he appeared in front of me.

“If this is a ruse, it is a very good one,” he said. “Gumihos get more and more clever with every staged death.”

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