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The snake was dead. The statues of the people the creature had killed had burst into dust the moment Darien had severed the head from its serpentine body, all those souls that were trapped in stone freed at last.
Well done, Bandit said, panting proudly in Darien’s shadow. I expect payment come tomorrow.
How about something quieter this time? Like a sock monkey?
Chicken, Bandit growled. A deal’s a deal. But a moment later, the dog added, What’s a sock monkey?
Darien rose out of his crouch. Lifted the sword behind his back to sheath it.
And winced. Fuck, his hand. He’d made the mistake of wielding the sword with both as he’d dropped down on the Basilisk, and now the nerves were burning as if he’d thrust his hand into open flame.
But he didn’t have time to waste on pain.
He crossed the room, boots splashing in a lake of the Basilisk’s sticky blood, and prepared to face his next challenge.
“It’s not moving.” Tanner’s hoarse whisper scraped against the walls, the words full of raw, desperate hope. Slate eyes darted between Roman, Jack, and the serpent.
Minutes ago, the mass of scales blocking the door had stopped shifting. And not long before that, a horrid scream had ripped through the tunnels, nearly bringing down the roof and shattering their eardrums.
Roman stepped up to the blocked door—
The serpent began to move.
“Watch out!” Roman shouted, pulling Jack and Tanner back.
Slowly, the limp body of the serpent rose into the air, scales catching the trickles of moonlight.
Roman blinked in disbelief, taking in the scene before him as it appeared in stages.
Black boots. Bent legs that slowly straightened as the serpent rose higher—
Darien stood in the doorway, arms lifted above his head, those arms barely straining under the weight of that massive creature.
With an upward push of his hands, and a slight bending of his knees, he threw the Basilisk—literally flung its corpse as if it weighed nothing.
It soared behind him and crashed into the ground with such force, the three of them were nearly knocked on their asses.
Darien used the arm of his bodysuit to wipe the black blood off his forehead, Bandit coming out of his shadow to stand boastfully at his side. “You guys okay?”
“Holy gods,” Tanner choked out.
Roman swallowed the dryness in his throat. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
“What’d it do to piss you off?” Jack asked with a nervous chuckle.
And although Jack had clearly intended for the question to be rhetorical, Darien said as he stepped through the doorway, Bandit’s eyes glowing red in the dark as he walked beside him, “It called me ‘Darien Slade’.”
Max was tiring.
From the moment he’d pried open the elevator doors, he and Dallas had not been given a single opportunity to catch their breath, the demons coming in droves. The creatures had been starved down here for centuries, living off gods-knew-what, probably resorting to eating each other. They had gone feral the moment they’d caught sight of the witch and the Darkslayer standing in the elevator, practically being served up on a silver platter. Max had given Dallas the sword, opting to use his other weapons, his magic acting like an invisible coat of armor.
Now, that armor keeping him and Dallas safe waned—
Max shouted out a warning to Dallas as a winged creature crashed into him, claws ripping into his bodysuit—the only thing, aside from that shield of magic that had slipped, that was keeping him alive.
He smashed into the back wall of the elevator. Reached behind his head to grab onto the demon—
He pulled it over his shoulder, the magic protecting his head crackling as the wings flapped, the pointed ends dragging along the shimmering bulwark of power.
