I was still weak, but nothing gives you a shot of adrenaline quite like the realization that you’re about to die. I shot my arm up and gripped Azraal’s wrist to keep him from driving the deadly dagger between my ribs. Adrenaline or not, I was operating on low power and he was among the most powerful demons I’d had the displeasure of fighting. It was only a matter of time until my strength gave out and I’d wake up in Heaven next to my stressed out great-grandfather.
It seemed kind of backwards that going to Heaven was something I preferred to avoid.
Sylnie was the first of my friends to see my predicament. She heroically plowed into Azraal from the side in an attempt at a tackle. She was a big girl and it looked like she had a lot of momentum but Azraal took the hit like a siege tank. Then Sylnie tried hopping on his back and pulling on his arm. Though Azraal managed to shrug her off repeatedly, I could feel his pressure slackening each time she tugged on him.
But despite my resistance and Sylnie’s various hindrances, Azraal kept staring at me with that greedy, sharp-toothed grin and inching the point of the Firstborn blade closer and closer to my chest.
Every measure of physical and telekinetic energy I had was focused on keeping Azraal’s arm at bay. I tried to call out for help, but my feeble lungs could only produce a gasping wheeze that was easily drowned out by the sounds of combat. Sylnie, desperate to avert my impending demise and frustrated by her impotent assistance, became my voice in appealing to our comrades.
“Hey!” she barked. “Get over here, the Devil’s in trouble!”
Salabas was out of earshot but Talamur and Jaelin exchanged an exhausted glance and a deeply communicative nod. Jaelin came over to us and was reaching out to wrench Azraal off of me when Kezin tackled her from behind, sending the two of them tumbling past us.