I reach behind me, unsheathing my blades as I step forward.
He chuckles—a low, rolling sound—and his lips peel back, revealing large, blunt teeth and a set of fangs. He plants a massive foot between the female's shoulder blades and kicks her face-first into the dirt. There’s a sharp snap as bone gives way—and her cry collapses into muffled sobs.
“Got a name, demon?”
He clicks his tongue, rolling his shoulders as thick muscle shifts beneath his skin. “Names are a tricky thing, aren’t they?” His arms spread wide in mock invitation. “If you want mine, you’ll have to pry it out of me.”
I move as I tell him, “I plan to.”
The moment I close the distance, the woman, seeing the battle headed her way, scrambles on her elbows and knees, desperate to get clear of us.
My first strike lands true. My right blade slices into his side, biting deep. Black blood seeps immediately, spraying out and coating me in the process. He catches my other blade in an iron grip, then jerks me forward and drives his forehead into my face.
Pain explodes as skin splits. Nose broken, my own blood spills into my mouth. I spit it out and circle him, retreat just long enough to wipe it away, and find another opening. When I surge back in, it’s with a speed he’s not prepared for, swords arcing and slashing across his chest and thigh before dancing out of his reach.
One breath, then I’m back to do the same to his back. Blades meet and part flesh.
He stumbles, his weight shifting unevenly.
Spinning, he roars and grabs my cloak, yanking me closer. His jaws snap inches from my face.
I surge upward, ripping free, and reel back long enough to then drive both blades into his torso in a single, precise strike. The force reverberates through me.
I draw them back an inch—just enough to grant me leverage—then hammer them forward again until the hilts meet flesh. I twist, controlled and unyielding, and feel the give, hear the wet, sickening squelch as his rearrange.
His lips peel back, teeth bared, eyes flaring as something in him snaps. A roar tears free—raw and violent—as his hand clamps onto me, squeezing until ribs break. The world lurches. I’m ripped from my footing and thrown hard, air driven from my lungs as I slam into the ground.
Hell and damnation, that hurt.
I roll with the impact and come up on my feet slowly, dusting myself off as I do.
He glances down at his healed chest, then back at me. “That all you’ve got? Is this the best Heaven has to offer?”
He slowly withdraws the swords and tosses them aside into the dirt.
It only takes mere seconds for his wounds to heal. The moment they seal shut, he casts his head to the side as his grin builds, the whites of his eyes burning brighter. His laugh isn’t amusement—it’s a challenge. He plants his feet, muscles bunching, and charges.
We collide like boulders. Air is driven from my lungs, but he doesn’t stop. He slams into me again and again, shoulder hammering my chest, forcing me back.
My heel catches on a rock. I lose my balance and go down—but I keep hold of him, dragging him with me.
I release him and pull my daggers from my belt. With fast—short, brutal stabs—I bury steel into him again and again.
He spins to straddle me and lands a punch against my chin. The blow is solid enough to rattle my teeth. “Shall we see how easily one of God’s four chosen breaks, Horseman?” Another deadly punch lands, threatening to crush my cheekbone. Then his large hands wrap around my throat and squeeze.
I call on my power. It hits him in a violent surge, tearing him free.
We’re on our feet again, circling each other in tight quarters, boots grinding through dirt and ash. He rushes. I sidestep, slice low—feel steel bite into his leg.
Again and again he comes at me, and when his hits make contact, they do considerable damage.
When I get a clear shot, I spear my blade into his side, punching through hide and bone. Not satisfied, I also wrench it sideways. He howls—raw and furious—and claws blindly for me, fingers grazing my armor.
I dodge the grasp and ram my other dagger into the side of his neck.
He convulses, thick blood spilling hot over my hands. I tear the first blade free and stand. While he’s choking on his own blood, I drop my daggers and walk the few feet needed to pick up my discarded swords.
His laughter turns wet. Broken. Blood spills from his mouth as he forces the words through failing lungs. “You…have…no…idea what’s coming for you.”
