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His inner demon didn’t push for supremacy this time; it merely sent Teague telepathic advice of what move to make next. And one particular image made him smile. Yeah, he could do that.
He flicked a look at his ‘shield’—the metal door was corroded badly from the hell-acid that fairly dripped from it. He threw the door like it was a frisbee. It sailed through the air and smacked the humanoid in the throat, splattering hell-acid right at the fucker.
The shadowkin staggered back in what appeared to be both pain and shock, shaking its head as if it could also shake off the pain.
His demon chuffed, rather pleased.
Teague’s peripheral vision screamed at him in warning.
He ducked, narrowly avoiding the thick tentacle that then smacked into the locker above him. Rising sharply, he gripped the tentacle tight and, ignoring how it burned his palm like a bitch, he yanked hard.
The humanoid wasn’t expecting that, wasn’t braced for the move; it fell to its back and skidded along the wet floor, writhing in pain as hellfire blasted from Teague’s fist all the way down its tentacle and into its body.
While the other shadowkin attacked with more hell-acid, Teague concentrated on the humanoid that was already at his mercy, volleying orb after orb of hellfire at such close range that the little shit stood no chance. Teague kept going, even as hell-acid slammed into his arm, shoulder, scalp, and leg, eating through cloth and flesh.
Finally, the humanoid went limp. Dead. Teague dropped the tentacle and turned to the second shadowkin . . . with just enough time to dodge the beam of hellfire that would have otherwise buried itself in his throat.
He and the remaining shadowkin then went at each other hard, neither willing to lose. The air rang with the hissing of flames, the sizzling of acid, and Teague’s grunts and curses.
As another beam came toward him, he leaped to the side, inadvertently placing himself in front of the other wooden bench. The humanoid planted itself at the opposite end of the bench, braced as if to jump on it.
That was the shadowkin’s mistake.
Teague slammed his foot down hard on the bench, making it lurch up like a see-saw. The other end caught the humanoid beneath its chin, sending its head snapping backwards with such force that its neck would have broken if it had bones.
Then Teague was on the little shit, taking advantage of its distraction. He launched ball after ball of hellfire. Its body flinched and arched again and again with each impact.
Finally up close to his attacker, Teague snapped his flaming fist around its throat and hit it in the chest with a high-powered orb. And another. And another, causing flames to spread along its body.
It jerked and bucked and kicked its legs.
Until it didn’t.
He dropped the corpse to the floor and lit it up with yet more hellfire, wanting no trace of it to be left behind. The other humanoid was already mostly ashes.
Teague took stock of himself, cursing. He was covered in blisters, scorch marks, and bad burns. Patches of his clothes were corroding and charred. He not only had a fresh bunch of wounds, but some of his earlier injuries were now worse than before.
Fucking wonderful.
He glared down at the corpse at his feet, noticing there wasn’t much of it left. Good. He didn’t—
His head snapped up at the sound of excited voices. Two tall males barged into the locker room. Taking in the situation, they stopped dead.
The blond frowned. “What in the delightful fuck went on in here?”
“Some demons teleported in and went at me,” said Teague, grateful there was no way to tell at this point that those demons were shadowkin—it would raise too many questions. “Probably lost a bet and didn’t like it.”
The second hellhorse rolled his eyes. “Typical.” And then they went back to their conversation. Well, his kind weren’t fazed by much.
Still, his clan were going to be pissed.
Standing in the center of her living room, Larkin exchanged an exasperated look with Harper as the females sitting either side of the sphinx squabbled like kids. The argument had sparked to life after Khloë brought up her Aunt Mildred—a woman who Devon insisted did not exist. It didn’t matter to the hellcat that Khloë, Jolene, and Ciaran repeatedly stated she was mistaken. No, Devon insisted they were bullshitting her. And since imps took such joy in dicking with people, there was every possibility that she was right.
Knox, Keenan, Tanner, and Ciaran stood near the floor-to-ceiling window, ignoring the squabble while discussing mundane topics. As soon as Teague, Levi, and Piper arrived, Ciaran would teleport them all to the monastery. The male imp would likely stay, despite not being invited. His kind didn’t let stuff like that get in the way.
Really, Knox didn’t need to be teleported anywhere—he had a similar gift that allowed him to travel in such a way. However, it was a gift he only used around the few people he most trusted, and those didn’t include the descendants. Demons generally weren’t open about all their abilities, particularly Primes.
