Page 93 of Pride: Kneel Before None

It wasn’t enough. They kept coming, relentless and hungry for destruction.

One body pushed through the masses, knocking others aside, determined to be the first to get to us.

I searched for anything close by to defend myself with. An unopened beer bottle rolled across the floor, a remnant from the assault on all that Sevenfold had to offer.

Leaning over, I snatched it up by the neck. Raising it up, I turned to take a wild swing at the man who had just emerged from the mob.

Before I could make contact with his head, Ace grabbed my wrist, preventing me from carrying out my attack.

Confused, I glared up at Ace, but his gaze was fixed on the man who'd broken through the crowd.

With a critical eye and suspicion in his greeting, he asked, "Grier. What are you doing here?"

Shifting my focus to the man whose head I nearly smashed with a beer bottle, I took stock. He appeared just shy of middle age, looking battle-worn and in need of a decent moisturizer. Whoever the hell he was, he held the two swords I recognized from the display in Ace's living room.

“Thought you might need these.” Grier tossed both blades to Ace.

After releasing my wrist, he caught each sword effortlessly and responded, “I don’t need them.”

Grier smirked. “I know.”

From there, the attack got bloody. Ace wielded his swords with unparalleled brutality. The man who seemed to be an ally in the onslaught against us had the skill of a man who fought golems for a living.

The beer bottle I had in my hand went to good use. I swung it at a shrieking imp, the glass connecting with his temple and sending him reeling.

For every body rendered incapacitated, two more surged forward.

“Where are they all coming from?!” I shouted over the din at Ace.

He looked at me, wet strands of his dark hair plastered to his forehead from the sprinklers that had soaked us and everything else on the casino floor. Ace’s chest heaved with the exertion of fending off each attacker while those calculating eyes of his scanned the area, seeing the same endless sea of figures as I did.

In the distant background, beneath the symphony of the ongoing assault, Crestpin’s shrill laughter cut through the chaos.

Ace grunted a sound of frustration. “This isn’t working!”

With two short strides, he stood in front of me, pinning me with eyes that burned bright with crimson rage.

“Listen good, Little Spade.” He used the blunt end of the sword handle to nudge my chin up so I had no choice but to look into his eyes. “You’re going to put what you learned in the grotto to use. Understand?”

I searched his eyes, seeing nothing but unshakeable faith in their depths.

“I’ve got it covered,” I replied, my confidence in ample supply, as it always was.

“Good girl,” he rumbled before stepping away from me.

He barked an order at the unexpected ally grappling with a demon in a server’s uniform. “Cover me!”

The faith he placed both in Grier and in me was absolute. Ace found a small clearing, raised both swords in the air, and rotated them before crouching down and slamming each point into the floor with a primal roar.

Two things happened simultaneously. I thrust my mind’s eye wide open, casting the net wide to capture Ace’s precognitive powers. Images ripped hard and fast through my head. Keeping up with the flashes of information was a challenge, but the message became clear.

Our visit to Forked Tongue Casino.

Argian nullifying the lease on Sevenfold’s foundation.

The crypt below us and all the spirits slumbering with unawakened power.

The ultimate defense against a siege on all that Ace considered his.