Darker Days (The Darker Agency #1)(76)

The thrill of the fight and the surge of adrenaline was the kind of thing I lived for. Nothing made me feel more alive than facing off against some big bad and cutting it down to size.

One by one, we took them down. Twenty minutes later, we stood in the wreckage of the room, all covered in viscous, black blood, smelling like mold, and gasping for air. Ruined bodies spread out before us, things were finally silent.

“I haven’t had a workout like that in some time,” Dad said, wiping a hand across his jeans. It left a trail of black slime. His eyes met Mom’s, and suddenly I could see why there’d never been anyone else in her life. Why there’d never be anyone else. She and Dad were two of a kind. A pair of deadly peas in a pod. He crossed the room and swept her into his arms.

“Reminds me of our first date,” he laughed softly.

Mom’s reply was a soft chuckle and a quick peck on the lips.

Their first date? They went mashing on their first date? Seriously. Now I was way jealous.

I flicked a glob of slime from my own hand and reached under the bed to pull out the first aid kit. Nothing devastating. A couple gashes, a crap-ton of bruises, and I was betting quite a few strained muscles judging by the way Mom was moving, but all in all, pretty clean. No broken bones and no sliced arteries. Any fight you could walk away from was a win. Any fight you could walk away from without needing a transfusion or a cast? Epic win.

Silence set in as we went to work, checking each other over and taking stock. The bedroom door was in two large pieces out in the hall, and we’d never get the lamiae bloodstains off the floor. Time to carpet the apartment. Why was it that all demon bodily fluid stained?

Lukas and I sat on the floor, leaning against Mom’s ruined dresser as I cleaned a sizeable slash on his forearm. Dad was over by the closet stitching up Mom’s shoulder while she bandaged her own wrist. Battlefield triage had nothing on us.

Unfortunately, the silence didn’t last long. From the first floor, something loud shattered. More glass.

“What was that?” Lukas was on his feet and in the doorway before I could stop him.

Seconds later, he got his answer as another wave of lamiae swarmed the stairs. He scrambled back into the room as the window behind us shattered.

Bottlenecking the doorway and crashing through the windows like ants to a picnic, the lamiae were everywhere. Three times as many as before. We held them off for a few minutes, but even with one and a half demons, the incarnation of rage, and the queen of kick-ass, we never stood a chance.

It all happened so fast. One minute, we were licking our wounds, the next we were drowning in carnage. They swarmed Lukas, two hitting him from behind and knocking him to the floor. I launched forward to help, blindly shoving through the crowd, but one of the lamiae grabbed me. I jammed my elbow back and heard the bone-crunching crack as it connected with the thing’s head. It howled in pain and made another attempt, but I whirled around, wedging my sneaker hard into its gut. It careened backwards, colliding with the two advancing on Mom, and knocking them all to the ground like icky bowling pins toppling for the perfect strike. When I turned back, Lukas had managed to wrestle himself out from under the first two, but there were too many. I watched helplessly as more came, one baring its teeth and piercing the skin at the hollow of his neck. He screamed, eyes rolling back as they dragged him back to the ground and I swallowed back a cry as he disappeared beneath them.

Dad was next. Three of them piled on top of him, teeth piercing the flesh of his legs and forearm in multiple spots. Demons were tougher than humans. It took a little more effort, but with a few extra chomps, the venom did its trick and Dad crumbled to the floor just like Lukas.

“Stay close!” Mom yelled above the chaos. I heard her, but barely. The only other sound I could hear was the whooshing noise her machete made as it sliced through the air—and lamiae flesh.

We kept them off for a few minutes, but there were just too many. Even for us. Stuck in a small space with limited resources and two soldiers down for the count, this wasn’t going to end well.

Something hit me from behind. A sharp knock between my neck and right shoulder blade. Vision swam and a chill raced up my spine as the ground kind of wobbled, taking me down. A second later, there was a sharp stinging in my left shoulder. Mom screamed, and when I tried to turn around, the world went dark.





Chapter Twenty-nine




12 hours left…

Something was ringing. Soft and distant. Too low to be my alarm and too warbly to be my cell. Fingers splayed, I felt underneath me. Cold and hard. A little slippery. Not soft. Not my bed.

Screaming. Black blood and crooked teeth. Flashes of steel and the sound of clinking metal.

The lamiae.

Craps.

Eyes open, I struggled to my feet. Everything was hazy. Like someone had come along and coated the entire room in several layers of plastic wrap. Blinking, things snapped into focus for a second—bodies and blood—then out the next. Faint shapes and blurry colors were all that remained.

“Mom?” My throat was sore. Like I’d swallowed something too hot. When I got no answer, a knot started to form in the pit of my stomach and a chill tickled my spine. “Dad?” I tried.

Nothing except more ringing.

What the hell was that? Still wobbly, I made my way toward the sound. Something on the floor—something big and unmoving—sent me to the ground. I landed hard on my knees, hand thrust in front of me. When I pulled back, my fingers were coated with something dark and sticky. I sniffed it and almost gagged. I wiped them down the side of my shirt and, after several failed attempts, stumbled upright.