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Myra goes pale. The nearest humans fall silent.
“He’s going to get killed,” Rhys cries. “We have to help him!”
From behind comes a piercing shriek from the manticore that shakes the trees. A sharp pain erupts across Arsene’s face and he grunts, lifting his hand to his cheek. It comes away clean.
It’s the bond.
“I need your torches,” he tells Myra.
Chapter 21
ARSENE
Nurand the manticore are tangled together at the cliff’s edge. Trees splinter and crack in two as one pins the other, then vice versa, moving almost too fast to follow. A dozen torch bearers flank Arsene, facing forward and back to protect themselves from the swarm. Adrenaline fills him. He must be crazy to bring the humans this close to danger. The manticore rears back, wings flaring, and a powerful gust of wind sends their torches flickering.
“Surround it!” Arsene shouts.
The humans fan out, careful to keep a distance. The manticore’s head whips around at Arsene’s shout. Nur seizes the opening, swiping at it and skewering its shoulder with his claws. But the beast’s powerful body lashes like a whip before he can yank free. With a howl, it bears Nur to the ground. He struggles as the beast raises its gleaming tail, dripping with poison.
Arsene wades into the fray, swinging the torch at the creature’s flank like a sword. The first blow is like hitting the side of a mountain. But on the second, flame catches on the black smear of a wound and fire roars to life along its haunch. The manticore howls and its back legs kick out. The smell of singed hair fills the air. Arsene rolls out of the way and its massive clawsmiss him by a hair’s breadth. He scrambles to his feet. Nur levers himself upright with a deep groan that echoes down the canyon. Black ichor oozes from wounds all over his body.
As Nur gathers his bearings and the chimera prepares to attack again, two humans rush at the manticore with their own torches, waving them ineffectually.
“Stay back!” Arsene yells as the chimera twists, snapping at them. “Surround the beast, but stay out of reach!”
The torches are meant to confuse—he didn’t bring them to fight. If the manticore isn’t vanquished he’s put them in line to be its next meal. But the humans disobey, darting forward one by one to stab at the manticore’s thick legs and low-hanging stomach. Arsene curses and goes after them.
“Aim at its blood,” he tells Rhys breathlessly.
The boy stabs at the manticore’s leg where more black stuff hides a wound. Another fire lights up. The manticore springs away with a howl, right into Nur’s waiting embrace. Arsene grabs the boy as he stumbles back.
Nur pins the manticore’s wings, bearing it to the ground. It twists and snaps, nearly dislodging him. Nur isn’t a trained fighter—his attacks are clumsy, if brutal. But he wouldn’t need skill when he could swallow a demon whole in this form, and a moment later he proves this to be true. His hand disappears behind the chimera’s flank and his shoulder wrenches back. The beast lets loose a deafening roar. Rocks rattle down the cliff. The humans shout, some falling to their knees and covering their ears. Nur flings the chimera’s scorpion tail to the side as corrupt blood pours from its wound.
It writhes, trying to throw him off, but he straddles the beast and grabs it around the neck. Muscles straining, he twists once, twice, and breaks the chimera’s neck. The crack makes Arsene’s head spin. He’s a seasoned fighter, a soldier of many campaigns.He’s seen death come in waves. But the sound digs into his very soul.
The manticore falls, sending a shudder through the whole canyon. Scorpions scatter. Nur turns his ghastly face left and right, his blank stare seeking. A deep slash across his chest bleeds freely. His left arm is torn up. Wounds have erupted across his face from the flying rock and the manticore’s claws. Every one of his wounds blazes across Arsene’s own skin in an awful echo.
Nur’s giant form staggers away from the manticore’s carcass. Rhys puts a hand over his mouth, his eyes fearful, but as the rest of the humans stumble back he stays put. Nur lurches off the ledge, shrinking, pulling into himself. His wounds yawn, slicing deeper as he sheds his Hellform, and for a horrible moment Arsene is afraid he’ll simply collapse into nothing.
Then he’s tumbling into Arsene’s arms, gasping, tearing at Arsene’s shirt mindlessly, and his teeth sink deep before Arsene can think to stop him. The bond erupts in flame. Arsene cries out. The bottom drops out of his stomach as Rhys gasps.
The humans.
They can’t know—they can’t see what Arsene lets Nur do to him. He pushes Nur off him abruptly.
“Not now!” he gasps.
“Mine,” Nur hisses, scrabbling at him, but Arsene holds him at arms’ length even as his instincts scream at him to pull Nur close—to give him everything and anything he needs.
“Later,” he swears. “When we’re alone. I promise.”
But Nur shows no sign of understanding. He sways, his legs giving way and a thin noise escaping him as he collapses. Rhys darts forward.
“Nur!”
“Not you!” Nur growls, lashing out, and Rhys yelps as a thin red line flares across his arm. Suddenly the humans surroundthem, holding Nur’s limbs, pinning them to his body so he can’t attack.
“He’s gone feral,” says Myra. “Hold him tight. He’ll make his injuries worse.”
