ten
The angel takes three heavy steps towards me, and for a moment I think he might walk straight into me, but at the last second, he lifts off the ground and lands three feet behind.
The creatures waiting in the shadows don’t need anything else to make their move. All at once, they screech and run in my direction.
The angel leans against a tree in the distance, leaving me to fight alone. It appears he’d rather watch me be killed by his foes than do the dirty work himself. I always knew angels were lazy.
I suppose I should put on a show for him, then – at least make it entertaining.
A daemon lunges for me. I drop to the ground and roll, grabbing the blade the angel threw at my feet. The creature tumbles over me and I spin, using the momentum to drive the dagger into the top of its head, and the sickle blade to take it clean off.
Jumping to my feet, I turn back to face the horde of daemons that runs at me with a starving hunger. What I would give to have a sword right now.
I move quickly towards one creature, skidding along the ground and taking out its legs. Daemons are larger than angels; they usually stand at around seven feet tall, but they’re not skilled warriors. They’re careless with their attacks, their overwhelming hunger for human essence overriding any sense of form or caution.
Rolling forward and up onto my feet, I block a blow from another creature and deliver my own into the fleshy part beneath its chest. The daemon topples forward and I spin around it, driving my foot into its back.
As it kneels in front of me, I grab the antlers growing from its head and slice through its neck until its head is hanging half off. I don’t have time to finish the job as another creature lunges at me from behind.
I drop the daemon’s head and spin out of the way. The screeching creature tumbles over the pile of sticks that is its half-dead friend.
The angel watches me from the shield of the trees with a bored look on his face, as if he’s disappointed that I’m not dead yet.
A daemon charges at him from the side. He reaches out with one hand and catches it by the throat without tearing his gaze from mine. There’s a loud crunch as the angel squeezes the daemon’s neck until its body falls to the ground.
I have to stop my jaw from dropping. The sheer display of power is as impressive as it is terrifying. I wonder how it doesn’t consume him completely, though I suppose that must be why he is such an insufferable ass.
The competitive side of me sparks to life, my attion snapping back to the creatures of darkness that circle around me. A daemon rushes forward and I slice at its abdomen with the dagger. A loud screech erupts from the beast as it stumbles. I jump onto its back, my sickle blade slicing at its neck as claws reach for my hands. The touch sends veins of ice through my skin, but I don’t let go.
The sickle blade struggles through dons and flesh as the creature tries to dig its nails into me, but I quickly adjust my grip to hold the sides of its head and snap with all of my strength.
The daemon’s body crumples in a lifeless heap, but it does not turn to ash. I wonder if that is enough to kill it. We’ve always been taught that the most effective way of killing a daemon is to remove its head, otherwise it will just keep coming back.
The ice that has started to spread through my body slows my movement as I fight through the endless herd of monsters. For each one that falls, another replaces it.
I try to kick a creature in the stomach, but it catches my foot, twisting it around until I’m forced to the ground. The daemon plants its hands on my shoulders, nails digging into the skin of my neck and carving their mark. The cold sweeps through me, into my veins and towards my heart. Sharp, venomous teeth brush the curve of my neck.
I reach for its hands, fingernails digging in deep, but I don’t have the energy to push it off. Moment by moment, my energy depletes. My eyelids flutter as daemons surround me, each of them slowly reaching forward for a taste.
I hope the angel enjoys watching me die. I hope he never forgets this moment. The girl who’d rather die at the hands of his enemy than cower before him like an insect.
But death doesn’t come. As claws are ripped off me, a soft scream escapes me. When I open my eyes again, the surrounding monsters are nothing but piles of shrivelled bark on the ground. The daemon who was draining the life from me lies in front of me.
I slowly push myself to stand, my knees shaking.
The angel fights gracefully as he kills creature after creature, though for him it seems hardly an effort. Warmth slowly seeps its way back into my veins as I watch him. He moves with such grace and power that I stare in awe.
Monsters they may be, but I long to fight that beautifully.
He turns to me and throws something in my direction. I barely catch his sword, my body instantly lighting up with a foreign feeling as my fingers wrap around the hilt. Two wings exd where the pommel meets the blade; another wraps around the base, and another behind it. The pommel itself has small feather-like patterns carved into it, each one intricate and unique. It looks as if it’s made from pure gold, but it’s too light to be real.
Why is he helping me?
Or perhaps he’s letting me help him.
The sword in my hand feels unlike anything I’ve held before. It’s unlike any weapon I’ve ever wielded.
Heat surges through me, melting away the ice the daemon venom had spread and replenishing it with adrenalin. I move quicker than I’ve ever moved. I feel stronger than ever before. Power trickles from my fingertips to my toes, every inch of my skin tingling from the sensation. The feeling hits me like a drug – one that, in the wrong hands, could become lethal.
Following his silent direction, I slice my way through the daemons around us. I turn from the angel so that we stand back-to-back.
A creature lunges at me and I stumble, my side brushing against the angel’s wings. He stiffens under the touch, so I move quickly to break the contact. I don’t want to give him any reason to decide to kill me along with them.
I swing the sword clumsily. It’s a weapon I’m not exactly well versed with. We’ve trained with it a little, but we’ve always prioritised daggers. I wield it well enough to behead a few daemons, but I fight much slower than the angel beside me, who uses nothing but his bare hands to kill his enemies.
The angel fights through the last few living daemons, tearing heads from bodies and ripping hearts from chests. I look around at the bodies that crumple beneath our feet. Still. Lifeless. Only the angel and I are left now.
I turn towards him to find his gaze already on me, cold and deadly.
I raise the sword in front of me, ready to fight until my last breath.
He only chuckles softly and leans against a tree. “Put it down before you hurt yourself.”
He gives me such a human expression it almost makes me forget for a moment the murderous monster that he is.
I hold the sword higher, my shoulders squaring as my chin lifts.
The angel stalks towards me with his eyes narrowed and his hands balled into fists. With each step he takes forward, I take one back, until my back presses up against the base of a large tree.
The angel grabs my hand that holds his sword and, with his other hand, pulls it out of my grip, placing it back into its sheath.
He tilts his head and studies me closely. His features darken with a hunger I’ve seen countless times. A hunger that means I’m lucky to still be breathing. “Now, what am I going to do with you?”
His voice ripples through me like a growl, the threat of his power on full display.
I lift my chin. “Just kill me and spare me the commentary.”
I try to mimic his tone of intimidation, but it falls flat.
The corners of his mouth twitch ever so slightly. “But where’s the fun in that?”
“What are you waiting for?”
My impatience only seems to amuse him. The angel leans in close enough for his lips to hover above my ear, so close that I can feel his breath on my skin. “For you to beg me for your life.”
My voice catches in my throat, unable to keep up with the beats of my heart. “Then you better get comfortable, bird boy.”
He makes a clicking noise. “Such a sharp tongue, Slayer.”
I move forward an inch with my chin still held high, our bodies so close together that I can feel the heat radiating off him. “What do you want from me?”
He pauses a moment before he lets out a sigh, a bored look creeping over his face. “If I was going to hurt you, don’t you think I’d have done so already? Or at least let them?”
He nods towards the rotting hellish flesh scattered across the clearing.
He has a point, but no part of me feels a sense of security. “I stabbed you…”
It’s more of a weary question than a statement.
A brief flash of anger flickers across his face, but it settles. “And I’m so generously choosing to spare your life.”
I snort. “Wow, that is so very kind of you.”
Sarcasm drips from my voice.
He looks me up and down. “You’re very brave, Slayer. It may very well be the thing that kills you.”
“Is that a threat?”
I ask, keeping my tone calm.
The angel’s eyes light up with blue fire, but his smile doesn’t fade. “I told you I will not kill you. At least not yet.”
“Who are you?”
I ask. “If you’re not here to kill me, then what do you want?”
The angel’s wings fold behind him in a mesmerising movement. He contemplates my question for a moment, and then his eyes meet mine.
“I am the archangel Nathaniel.”
His tone reeks of pride that puts a sour taste on my tongue. “And I want to make a deal.”