Page 115 of Bedeviled

I haven’t done much fighting in this life, and in my last, I was more of an archer than anything else. But my boot comes up, and I kick the demon square in the chest, sending her careening to the brittle grass.

I follow her down, using my body to pin her in place.

“Obso,” I incant.

Sleep.

Her body goes limp, though I know from experience it won’t hold long. Crisscrossing my blades, I swipe them across the demon’s throat. She wakes on a choked gasp.

“Obso,” I repeat.

Again she goes limp, though this time only for a moment. Her pain is likely too great to keep her under. Still, it’s long enough to cleave away the rest of her head. I gag as I do so. Goddess, but this is disgusting.

Grabbing her disembodied head by the hair, I toss the thing, accidentally hitting another nearby demon and sending the creature sprawling.

Beneath me, the headless body still writhes, and the demon’s claws scour my skin, parting flesh. Blood pours from the wounds, droplets of it sprinkling down on the soil.

…We can taste you, Empress…

Not again.

“There is plenty for you to feast on besides me right now,” I say in Sarmatian as I saw off the demon’s hands. I have to pause to lean over and retch.

…Nothing tastes quite like you, ancient queen…

The sounds of screams are giving way to moans and weeping, and our surroundings have slowly dimmed as the orbs above us have gone out.

I’m just about to rise when a clawed hand drags me up to my feet. I turn and see a flash of long, sharp teeth an instant before a blade shoves its way through from the back of the creature’s skull and out through their open mouth.

With a wet sound, the blade withdraws from the demon’s face. But only for a moment. I see the weapon move through the air, slicing cleanly through the creature’s neck.

The demon’s head topples off, and standing behind them is Memnon, in all his ferocious glory. His eyes shine, and his hair ripples, and the moment he sees my bloody arms, his power explodes out of him, storming across the field like a plague of locusts, encircling witch and demon alike.

“Heal those wounds, my queen, or I will,” he says, his eyes burning with power. He seems utterly unaware of what his magic is doing.

I stare at him, my mind still catching up to the moment. Once it does, I move my blades into one of my hands and place the other on my arm.

“Vakahi.” Heal.

Slowly, the wounds close.

Only then, after my skin appears unbroken once more, does Memnon turn his attention to the field around us.

His indigo power is so thick in the air that I can only see the individuals closest to us, but it appears as though his magic has a viselike grip on everyone besides us in this field, demon and witch alike. Thank the Goddess.

“Do you have enough control to release the witches?” I ask Memnon.

He draws in a deep breath and closes his eyes. The thick blue plumes of his magic peel themselves away from several trembling women. As soon as my coven sisters are released, they stumble around, disoriented.

“Run!” I call out as loudly as I can.

At the command, they scatter, darting into the shadowy forest beyond. All that’s left in Memnon’s clutches are the snarling, cursing demons.

They squirm against my soul mate’s magic, but try as they might, they cannot pry themselves free.

The sorcerer approaches one and simply stares at him. His magic, however, begins to rip him apart limb by limb. It’s a grotesque, stomach-churning sight, and it’s made all the worse by the unearthly screams of the demons.

As Memnon moves from creature to creature, I devise my own plan. The sorcerer’s power won’t hold them forever, not like a spell circle would. But I have no more salt to draw such a circle, and the chalk I have is useless.