Monday, July 28, 2014


I was surprised and a little flattered by the ferocity with which Talamur retaliated.  From my vantage point on the ground, I watched him whip himself into a frenzy and attack Azraal with such rage that he sent the former Director of Transportation scurrying for cover.  Azraal rallied behind the safety of his underlings, however, and dozens of demons began to advance on our position.  Considering we were outnumbered twenty to one and one of us was hovering somewhere precariously close to death, I suppose we should have been proud of how cautiously they approached us.  But Talamur and I had bigger worries—like both of us dying.

"I don't suppose you can maybe stand?" my only ally murmured to me out of the side of his mouth, keeping a wary eye on our opponents.  "Maybe teleport?  Run away?  Anything?"

I strained to use my muscles and my powers but neither one responded effectively.  "Well," I wheezed, "I can talk."

"Good, good," he replied swiftly.  "That's an enormous help to us."

"That was sarcasm, right?"

"Naturally," he confirmed.  He bent down and scooped me up into his arms.

Jaelin and Sylnie appeared beside us.  "Hello again, my love," Jaelin remarked grimly.  "Sorry it took so long to find you."

"Impeccable timing, my little temptress," Talamur replied.

"Is the Devil okay?" Sylnie asked, casting her eyes toward my prostrate form in concern.

I gently wiggled the spike in my shoulder, squinting against the searing pain, until it came free.  I stared at the dark dye of my own blood on the bony dagger.  "It's just a flesh wound," I said with false bravado.  "I'll be fine."  Then I leaned heavily against Talamur's strong arms—pulling out the Firstborn blade and speaking had sapped what little energy I had left.  I wasn't sure if I was about to pass out. 

And more importantly, I wasn't sure if I would die again if I let go of consciousness.

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