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But eventually, he decided. “What’s stopping you from killing me after I tell you?” the daemon grumbled, a fiery gleam in his eyes.
The shadows in the corner roiled and swept away, revealing Orias and a very cranky looking Kobol. Nadir let out a breath, relieved to see the redhead standing, even if he looked a little pale. Orias moved with catlike grace, walking up to Wrathkin, his face a mask of serene calm.
“Nothing will stop these two. Despite all the raw power you yield, you’re going to die tonight. Either by their steel or by my more artistic means.”
“I can fight my way through the hordes of hell, shadow-walker. Why should I fear any of you? I’ll fight to the death, and whether I live or die, you’ll never know where to find the others.”
Orias lifted his hand toward the hulking blue giant’s arm and then paused. “I can pull the truth from you, or you can give it freely. If I force it, you’ll die in agony as I rip your mind to shreds, fiber by fiber. If you simply utter a few easy words, I give my word, your death will be swift.”
“There’s nothing easy about betraying your family for a painless death,” Wrathkin sighed. “You wouldn’t even know that I’m giving you the right location.”
“I’ll know,” Azimuth added.
With defeat written on his face, the daemon’s shoulders slumped in compliance. Misery twisted his features, but he spoke. “1801 California Street.”
Orias and Nadir both looked to Azimuth, who nodded in confirmation that he’d spoken the truth, and then, without further warning, sliced his sword through the formidable daemon’s neck. The hulking, blue giant’s body crumbled to the ground as his dark red blood seeped into the ground beneath him.
All four watched the daemon bleed out onto the carpet, the air heavy with grim resolution.
“Do you know the address?” Azimuth asked Nadir, his voice low.
She nodded, knowing he’d taken no joy in the act. “It’s in a busy district,” she said, thinking through the situation to make sure she had all the facts. “The idea of a daemon nest there seems improbable.”
Orias replied to her after some consideration. “We’ll see what we find.” He turned his attention to Kobol next. “Are you recovered?”
Kobol ran a hand through his ginger curls and winced as his fingers hit a sore spot. The skin had broken, and a drop of blood appeared. “My ego’s more bruised than my pride,” he shrugged. “But they’ll both recover after we rout the nest.”
“Let’s port these bodies back to Sheol first,” Azimuth said.
Orias nodded, a frown forming on his face. “We didn’t use the new weapons Belial gave us.”
Nadir glanced at the daggers in her hands. Daggers that had become almost an extension of her hands during battle. “Damn,” she said, “we’ll have to remember to use those at the nest.”
Orias’ frown remained, and Nadir had a feeling he was doing some mental calculating under the surface.
“Anything we should know?” Azimuth asked him.
There was a pause, and then Orias shook his head. “Nothing of import.”
Nadir wondered what Orias’ visions or intuition might have brought to his attention and how heavy it would weigh on his spirit.
CHAPTER12
ERIN
The pervasive beat of industrial music rolled through the club, displacing the pounding in Erin’s head with a steady rhythm and cadence, which lulled her into a languid mood. The aches in her body had continued to fade throughout the day, and now she felt uncommonly vibrant.
Who knew falling off a cliff could be therapeutic?
“Hey Lola, here’s your drinks for table fourteen.” The bartender shoved the drinks over, his wary eyes scanning the crowd. He was always waiting for trouble. There often was.
“Thanks, Bear.” Erin gave him a quick wink while she loaded her tray.
No one used their given names in the illegal den of iniquity, known simply as Porters. If the security forces ever busted them, Erin planned to hightail it out of there and never look back.
His curiosity over her playful demeanor didn’t lead to questions. Instead, he harrumphed and set about fixing the next order.
Erin sashayed in her red high heels, ridiculously short black skirt, and a matching black tank top which did nothing for her willowy yet athletic frame. Yet it fit the dress code, which was what Charlie, the boss, demanded.
