Happily Ever Awkward (The H.E.A. Files, #1)(32)

Laura turned back toward the dock. Paul had nearly reached her when a blur of leather streaked from the palace, pounced from the dock, rebounded from the grotto wall, and landed in a crouch between the prince and the handmaiden.

It was Demog.





If you’ve been paying any attention to this story at all, you already knew that.





The Demon laughed as Paul skidded into a tentative fighting stance.

“By all means,” he chuckled. “Please try.”

Paul hefted the Judgment Blade. Then he hesitated. Yet again, he hesitated, for who was he to fight a Demon?

“I have no patience for cowards,” Demog snarled.

The Terror sprang at Paul, his talons flashing like a handful of daggers. Paul retreated — though some might say he stumbled over his own feet and staggered backward — but somehow managed to block the Demon’s whirlwind attack with a series of parries that lit up the air with blossoms of blue sparks.

“Give me the sword!” Demog roared.

As Paul whirled past the Terror’s ferocious lunge, he struck a glancing blow that completely failed to draw blood, for truth be told, a Demon like Demog was incapable of bleeding; however, the strike sheared a leather strap from Demog’s shoulder and sent it sailing into Laura’s hands.

Enraged, Demog launched himself at Paul with even greater fury and pinned the prince against the wall of the grotto. The fight would have ended right there with a single stroke of the Terror’s ruthless claws had Laura not pounced upon his back.

“Leave him alone!” she screamed.

Neither her words nor her weight impressed Demog. Shoving Paul to the side, he spun about and smashed Laura against the cavern wall, stunning her. Demog didn’t care whether he first blooded his claws in the neck of the handmaiden or in that of the prince — his claws would get to them all eventually. In this instance, it appeared to be ladies first. The Demon took a moment to savor the fear in Laura’s eyes as he gave her a long lingering look at the talons with which he was about to slash her.

“Hey you! Catch!”

Demog looked toward Paul’s voice in time to see the prince hurl the Judgment Blade toward the grotto. Remembering his primary mission — to recover the weapon his master had come there to claim — the Demon released Laura and sprang at an impossible speed to an improbable height whereupon he caught the sword in midair. He landed on the very edge of the dock, but the added weight of the sword caused him to totter precariously.

“Now — catch this!”

Laura had run to the crane and swung the cannon suspended from it, ramming the metal tube into Demog’s chest like a sucker punch from a Giant. The impact was quite significant — even Demog was forced to appreciate the strength of it — and it launched him halfway across the harbor in a spectacular flailing arc.

He vanished beneath the water in a less-than-spectacular splash.

Panting from both his battle and the fear coursing through his veins, Paul hurried to Laura’s side. “We’ve got to go—”

“No! Luscious is right in there!” She started dragging another gangplank toward the Shadowship. “She’s fixing her hair for you!”

Paul glanced behind them. All he could see was a screaming horde of pirates approaching as only a screaming horde can. As if the horde wasn’t bad enough, Seeboth and Captain Head had just emerged from the palace as well. Even from this distance, Paul could see the pirate king staring in shock at the retreating Sphinx and could hear his bellow echo across the grotto — “Bravado?!”

“Now is not a good time,” Paul said. “Come on!”

Ignoring Laura’s protests, Paul kicked the release lever on the winch then hurled both himself and Laura onto the cannon. Their momentum swung the crane in a wide arc, sweeping them over a neighboring pirate ship — where they narrowly avoided tangled rigging, hurled daggers, and the hands of grasping pirates — before whipping out above the harbor.

SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

The paws of the Sargasso Sphinx clawed through the water, heading directly beneath them. At the last moment, Paul let go of the cannon and sent Laura and himself toppling onto its deck.

Jack spun the wheel toward the mouth of the grotto. “You made it! Good! Take this!”

He dove to the mast and began winding his bandages around the dagger still embedded there. The abandoned wheel spun lazily and the Sphinx skewed starboard. Paul stood frozen, staring back and forth between the wheel and the pursuing longboats full of very angry pirates.

Disgusted, Laura swooped in and grabbed the wheel, wrenching them back on course.

Jack, meanwhile, had finished knotting the bandages around the dagger’s blade and began striking sparks onto them with a flint and steel.

“What are you doing?” Laura asked.

A corkscrew of smoke curled from the bandage. Jack fanned it into a flame, pried the dagger free, and hurried aft with his blazing skewer.

“Hurry up!” he called.

“Hurry up?” Laura repeated. “What do you want me to do? Get out and push?!”

The Sphinx pumped through the mouth of the grotto, passing the array of cannons and the barrels of black powder stacked alongside them. Already, pirates raced to swing the weapons in their direction.

“Gonna be close,” Jack muttered, weighing the blade in his hand, and then he hurled it.