The Demon's Bargain (A Deal With a Demon #4)(31)

My throat feels thick. I can’t quite swallow. This is… I don’t…

“It will be okay.”

“You shouldn’t be the one comforting me.” The feeling in my throat gets worse. “I won’t hold the binding. I’ll re—”

Ramanu presses their fingers to my lips. “Not yet, little witch. Not until I’ve won.”

“But—”

“Ramanu and Kristoff,” the announcer booms. No one really knows who they are or what they are; they simply show up at the Shadow Market every year and then disappear as if they never existed. They’re tall, well over seven feet, and their ragged robes hang off inhumanly narrow shoulders. The robes themselves were probably black at some point but have faded to a dim gray with the ravages of time. Jack laughingly calls them the Grim Reaper, but the joke has never been funny to me.

I’m not entirely sure they’re wrong.

Ramanu steps away from me, dropping my hand at the last moment before they reach the ring. Panic flutters in my chest. “Come back to me, demon.”

They shoot me a fierce smile over their shoulder. “I plan on it, little witch.”

I can’t breathe. Gods, why can’t I breathe? It’s not the press of the crowd; they might be shoulder to shoulder everywhere else, but there’s a circle of empty space around me. Not a large one, but there’s plenty of room to inhale and exhale. Or there should be.

Instead, it’s everything I can do to plant my feet and watch as Ramanu and Kristoff circle each other in the ring. Ramanu’s taking a similar tactic to last time, waiting for their opponent to make the first move. Kristoff is too smart to charge in, especially considering how Ramanu’s previous battle went. I don’t like the look on his face, though, his smirk firmly in place and eyes mocking.

It’s strange that he hasn’t said a word. Normally he likes to mock his opponents into making a mistake. Maybe he knows it won’t work with Ramanu?

Gods, I hope it won’t work with Ramanu.

Kristoff tenses the tiniest bit. It’s the only warning before he fires off a spell to incinerate Ramanu where they stand. Or it would if they were still there. They move, faster than I’ve seen so far, dodging the fireball with a grace that has my heart in my throat. The spell hits the boundary and shatters, causing some people in the crowd to gasp.

But Ramanu hasn’t stopped moving. They come at Kristoff from the side, delivering a flurry of blows that bounce off the shield he somehow got up in time. I press my hands to my mouth, as if that’s enough to keep my cry internal. “Get some distance, Ramanu.” The second Kristoff finds his feet, he’ll strike, and Ramanu is too close to dodge.

Except…Kristoff doesn’t find his feet.

Ramanu doesn’t give him a chance to. They strike and strike and strike. Their punches and kicks never touch Kristoff himself, but by hammering the shield, they drive him back toward the boundary. He’s not being hurt, but he flinches every time Ramanu’s fist flies at his face. My ex is more used to dueling with spells than full-out fist fighting, and it shows.

But…if he hits the boundary, this ends.

Ramanu hooks a foot around the shield a step before Kristoff crosses the boundary and sends him spinning back toward the middle of the ring. The crowd has gotten over their shock from the fireball, and they’re starting to cheer my demon on.

How long can Ramanu keep this up?

I watch closely, my chest too tight and head swimming with fear, but they never falter. They never slow down. They just keep hammering at Kristoff’s shield as if they can do it until the end of time… Or until the shield shatters.

Even as the thought crosses my mind, it flickers under a particularly devastating kick. Kristoff’s eyes go wide, and he starts digging through his pockets, no doubt looking for a spell component that will get Ramanu off him.

He never gets a chance.

Ramanu kicks again, and this time the shield disintegrates. The blow takes Kristoff in the leg, sending him down to one knee. They don’t hesitate; if anything, their speed increases. I don’t even see the strike. One minute Kristoff is scrambling for a spell, and the next…my ex’s head bounces across the ring.

Holy shit, Ramanu beheaded him in a single strike?

My brain can’t seem to process it. The crowd has gone perfectly silent with shock. A beat. Two. On the third, someone starts cheering, and it sweeps through the space, gaining momentum and volume, until it’s a roar in the throats of everyone around me.

I watch numbly as Ramanu bends down and scoops up the amulet from Kristoff’s body. They walk slowly in my direction and stop a few feet away. Blood stains the links of the chain, which would horrify a normal person, but I’m still catching up.

They did it. They really did it.

They beat Kristoff.

They’re safe.

My knees choose that moment to give out. I start to slump, but Ramanu does another of those too-fast moments and catches me around my waist. “Lenora?”

“I’m okay,” I manage. Relief has turned my thoughts to mud. There are words I should be saying, something to reassure them, but I can’t do anything except stare up into their pretty face. “You’re okay.”

“I told you I’d come back.”

Distantly, I can hear Ramanu being declared the winner of the fight. There’s a slight pause while someone is called to clean up Kristoff’s body. I swallow hard. “You killed him.”