September Moon (Alexa O'Brien, Huntress #8)(75)

“Shya, stop. You reek of desperation. Have you really sunk so low as to torment lesser creatures to appease yourself?” Willow drew close, standing protectively over me. He faced the demon with a challenge on his face. It would have made me weep if I hadn’t been so damn exhausted.

His interference was met with a slap of demon power so strong I almost threw up. Willow took the hit like a champ. Rolling along the hard ground, he got back to his feet and brushed himself off.

“You know this was cute at first,” Shya said. “The fallen angel willing to risk it all for love while fighting to uphold his duties. Great story. Really. But we’ve already played this hand. And you lose, my friend.”

“I won’t let you do to Alexa what you did to Christina,” Willow vowed, hatred giving him a hard edge I’d never seen before.

“You say that as if you have a choice. You couldn’t save your whore, and you surely can’t save your Hound.” Shya advanced on Willow. The evil rolled off him like fog off the ocean, filling the atmosphere with a thick, stifling sensation. It burned, and I tried to shield against it but lacked the strength to do so.

“Don’t touch him,” I managed to say.

Shya ignored me, having eyes only for the one that defied him. My gaze landed on the Dragon Claw, and I used everything I had in me to reach for it. Jenner kicked it toward me, and my hand wrapped around the smooth black jade hilt. With a shaky hand I positioned the blade over the artery in my forearm. It wasn’t supposed to end this way, but I couldn’t allow Shya to take this any farther.

“Shya,” I said, waiting for him to look my way. When he did, I flashed him a feeble smile. “Fuck you.”

Sliding the blade through my flesh, I grimaced as it bit deep. It stung as the demon magic within the blade recognized me as the one it belonged to. Having been made with both demon magic and a piece of my hair, the dagger was bound to me. Tasting my blood made the dagger quiver, as if it sought to escape.

Willow was forgotten as Shya watched the blade he’d given me end my life. Wings spread wide, he uttered more Latin and promptly descended on me. He ripped the dagger out of my hand and threw it. With a hand on the bleeding gash, he spoke a series of words I didn’t understand. I wanted to pull away, to fight him off, anything. Instead, I slumped against him and demanded that death take me. Oblivion was quick to claim me, and I welcomed it. I didn’t care where it took me as long as it took me away from this place and away from this demon.

Chapter Nineteen

Everything ached. My body was stiff and sore but much better than the last time I’d been conscious.

Aches and pains meant that I was alive. Didn’t it?

Cracking my eyes open I found myself in a room I’d never seen before. It smelled weird, like everything was brand new. Even the bed I was on creaked as if it had barely been used. Sitting up seemed to be more work than it was worth so I laid there staring at the ceiling. The room was dimly lit, casting shadows on the ceiling above me. The walls were painted a pale yellow. It was ugly.

When I could no longer stare at nothing, I turned my head to find a nightstand with a lamp and a bottle of water. A couch and television also occupied the room. A door on the far side opened into a bathroom. I knew where I was. Shya’s house. As a prisoner.

“Son of a bitch,” I swore. “I can’t even succeed at dying.”

“Nor should you hope to.” The voice came from the couch. Falon sat there watching me.

“What are you doing here? Babysitting?” I did sit up then, finding that I wore nothing but one of Shya’s soft kimono-style robes. That was alarming. Immediately I was pissed.

“Something like that,” Falon said, sounding bored. “You really don’t know when to stop antagonizing, do you?”

“Where’s Shya?”

“He’s busy with Gabriel.”

“How long have I been here? Where’s Arys?”

Falon leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “You’ve been here since last night. You almost succeeded in your ridiculous suicide attempt. Lucky for you, Shya saved your ass. Again. Arys has been here to the house. Kale as well. Shya won’t let anyone up here to see you.”

“He plans to keep me here until he finds the scroll, doesn’t he?” A bitterness coated the back of my tongue. I really needed to brush my teeth.

“He does.” Falon nodded, regarding me with keen interest. It was suspicious.

“Let me guess. I’m under suicide watch.”

“You are.”

I was furious. The demon thought he could keep me a prisoner, like some pet tied up until he was ready to look at it. Fuck that.

Suicide wasn’t an issue. It had been a desperate ploy to free myself of Shya, a rash decision in the heat of the moment. At the time it had felt like my only way out. I was still here, and that meant something to me. It confirmed the vision of my death in Arys’s arms. It would happen as it was meant to.

A quick examination of my body revealed that I was healed, for the most part. Stiff muscles and a few aches and pains were the worst of it. I could breathe without pain. A vast improvement.

“Did you volunteer for this job, or did you just get stuck with me?” I asked, hoping it was some kind of punishment for him.

“A little of both I suppose.”

Falon watched me intently as I got out of bed. It took a moment for my brain to catch up with my body. I sat there trying to will the room to stop spinning.