Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (77)
An eerie calm fell upon the lot as footsteps sounded. The figure of my stepfather limped into view. He looked so weak and decrepit, but now I knew better what lurked beneath the surface of the dead man’s body.
Onyx didn’t make my mistake, however, in underestimating this . . . thing. Turning his palms forward, a burst of green light lit up the lot. Green fire flicked from his hands and glowed like orbs. I felt their heat from standing behind him. The struggling voice of my stepfather gave a raspy laugh. “Half breeds always have nice tricks,” it seethed.
“I always heard that lesser demons liked chasing smaller humans because they are weak. But this is ridiculous. Look at you,” Onyx bit out a chuckle. “So much effort for one mortal?”
Limping forward, it snarled. “We have come to retrieve the girl. Hand her over and there will be less trouble for you.”
I startled as an emerald flame encircled us. “What if I like trouble?” Onyx purred.
The face of Simon Glen looked up at an unnatural angle, as if he were being puppeteered. The sight made me shudder. His head lolled forward, eyes wide. Onyx laughed. “That’s right; he’s here. The Archdemon you’ve tried so hard to evade. And oh, smell that? He’s fucking pissed.”
A roar, a screech, an unholy and terrifying, blood-curdling sound shook through the lot as trees bent and broke in its wake. The rocks underfoot shook as the Archdemon, my Archdemon, stepped out from the darkness. The graying human body shook violently as Ghost walked through the flames, his stare fixed to me. He stopped and twisted a long finger through my hair, and I noticed the tight line of his sharp jaw loosen slightly. And then his smoke enveloped me, the world going silent.
“No!” I banged my fist against it. When nothing budged, I pressed my ear to the wispy wall of blue and violet, straining to hear. I could make out voices, and I could see blurry images. The dark shoots sprang from the body like before, dancing and zigzagging outside the flames. Only now there were hundreds.
“You will obey your Archdemon, legion.” Ghost spoke with ferocity and rage.
They answered in unison, “We answer to one above you. You are to yield or reap the consequences.”
Ghost stated with lethal calm, “I will send you back to your master with each of your heads on spears for coming near my Claimed.”
A roar of hissing responded, “It is not yours to Claim.”
“Like hell she isn’t,” Onyx replied, surprising me.
The blurry figure struck then. Onyx barely flicked his wrist, and the lesser demon went ablaze in green, writhing and falling to the ground. “Next?” he asked casually.
A dozen shot forward at Ghost then, and I screamed. Tendrils of smoke broke free in my enclosure, some caressing my cheek, one holding my hand. It was so tender, so sweet, that he was battling like a ruthless creature all while making a point to somehow hold my hand and comfort me through the barrier he’d captured me in.
But the demons fell like dead gnats as they made contact with him, like they were nothing. Forty more charged Onyx then, and I was blinded by green light. Another group surged at Ghost, whose smoke rose from the ground, enveloping and ripping heads off slender bodies. But every time one group died, three took its place. “It’s a hydra-legion!” Ghost shouted to Onyx.
“Motherfucker,” Onyx swore, flashes of green all I could see behind the cloud. Then suddenly, something broke through my barrier. I screamed as the enormous maw of a wolf towered over me. It was the size of a horse, at least. At the sight of my terror, its face instantly softened into that of a friendly canine, and it nudged a nose at my wrist.
Just then, a flurry of black, flapping feathers appeared. “Get on his back, now!” the bird shouted. I had no time to question why or how this bird was speaking, or the absurdity of gripping onto rough fur and climbing up a shadowy wolf-like-creature. But after fucking a demon, nothing seemed that weird anymore.
The moment I was positioned, the beast took off in a lightning flash. The screams behind me vanished. Within minutes, we were outside town, miles and miles from the grounds of Hallows. The bird reappeared, and I pieced together it was something of a translator between the beast and me. “Tell him to go back and help,” I ordered the crow. His beak shot to the dark wolf who only stared at me, as if deciding. “Go, please help them. Please,” I begged.
Its snout jerked a nod before it cast a pointed glance at the crow, who squawked in answer. And then the wolf was gone, kicking up dust and disappearing.
Leaving us alone along on the outskirts of town.
CHAPTER 29
Blythe
MARK OF THE BEAST
You have witchcraft in your lips.
William Shakespeare
When I turned, I jumped in surprise. “Raven,” I breathed.
“Yes,” he answered, standing in human . . . well, humanish form, like I’d seen him at Hallows all those nights.
“All this time, you were my bird stalker?”
He cawed a weak laugh. “I tried to tell you, but you didn’t have the ears to hear.”
“Well, thanks for saving my ass.” I stumbled forward, and he steadied me with his long winged arm.
His beak looked to me in concern. “I’m your familiar, Blythe. I’ll always save your ass to the best of my ability. Now come, let’s get you someplace safe.”