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Ipushwith my mind.
The black tendrils circle the demon. Just as it raises its fire whip and its black hole of a mouth opens wide to swallow Ambrose, a black cord winds around the whip, tethering it in place.
The demon lets out a noise so horrifying that it knocks me to my knees. The mist tears from Ambrose’s throat. Beside me, Edward is weeping openly. Pax rushes the circle, but when he tries to swing his sword at the demon, he can’t get through. The black cords rise higher, blocking him out.
“Ambrose!” I cry.
Ambrose turns to the sound of my voice, his face stricken. But when he tries to push through, he can’t make it, either.
The demon thrashes as more and more black cords wind around his body. It throws itself against the circle, but it’s a firefly trapped in a jar. It can’t go anywhere.
And neither can Ambrose.
“Cut the threads!” Father Maxwell cries out.
I don’t hesitate. I reach out and grab the threads. They feel hot and sticky in my hands. I tug at them, all the time pushing the magic through my fingers, the way the witches taught me. The threads snap away in my hands, whipping around to wrap the demon tighter, until the black cords become a large, dark hole in the centre of the circle that grows and grows, dragging the demon into it, reaching right out to the edge of the demon mark, where Ambrose is desperately trying to cling on.
“Oh, drat and botherations,” he exclaims as the ground starts to fall out from beneath him. His feet swing in mid-air, directly above that hole of nothingness.
“Ambrose!” I grip the edge of the earth and surge forward. I manage to grab Ambrose under the armpit just as he slides into the hole after the creature, but his weight drags me right over the edge of the demon mark.
I scream as we both tumble into the darkness.
39
Bree
Icling to Ambrose as the darkness closes in around us.
We’re falling. We’re going to fall into hell and—
Something grips my ankle like a vise, making my body jerk. I almost let go of Ambrose but manage to hold on.
“I’ve got you,” Pax growls, his grip firm around my ankles. “I’m pulling you up.”
“Bree,” Ambrose cries. “Hold on.”
“I won’t let go,” I promise. It takes every ounce of strength I have, but I feed my right arm beneath Ambrose’s shoulder, knitting my fingers together. My arm sockets scream from the pain of his dead weight. All around me, the shadows dance, their tendrils licking my skin.
Let go, let go, join us…the darkness whispers.
No. I will not be like you.
You are like us, Brianna. You are a creature of shadow. You are an angel of death. Join us…
With a grunt, Pax hauls us up. He goes slow, and my whole body shudders with the effort of holding onto Ambrose. The shadows press against my skin, and I can feel them tugging on me, trying to drag me back down into that hungry maw.
But Pax is stronger than all the servants of hell.
He tugs me and Ambrose over the edge, and rolls us out of the circle to safety. As soon as Ambrose is free of the void, the ground closes over with a sickeningTHUD.
The demon mark – and the demon – are gone.
“Ambrose?” I roll over and touch his face. His cheek is badly scorched, but other than that, he seems unharmed from the mist.
“Did I do it?” Ambrose’s cracked lips curl up. “Did I get rid of the demon?”
“You sure did.” I hug him close. He winces as I wrap my arms around his chest, but he doesn’t pull away. “You were so brave. You saved us all.”
