Chapter Fifteen #3
He quickly untangled his hands and scrambled to his feet.
The knife that Easy had dropped lay on the ground at his feet.
He lurched forward and grabbed it. The hilt felt hot enough to sting his palm as he picked it up.
Shepherd flipped it once to test the balance as he eyeballed Easy’s throat across the screaming pit.
There hadn’t been a lot to do at the cult compound for fun. He’d spent a lot of time throwing axes at trees. He could make the throw. If he did, then Easy would drop Kel, who might be able to save himself.
Might.
Shepherd didn’t want that on his conscience. The thing hadn’t worked out in years; it wasn’t up to heavy lifting.
The line of Easy’s throat moved spasmodically as he vomited the words up. Kel’s face was flushed red, and he’d stopped struggling.
Shepherd took a deep breath and hoped that Kel hadn’t just been boasting about being a football star.
“Laker!” he yelled, his voice cracking. …actually, what did football players say to each other? He fumbled for a second to try and remember a match he’d seen, but… He settled on a barked, “Catch!” as he tossed the knife.
Kel’s hand snapped up and grabbed it out of the air. His fingers wrapped around the blade, more blood dripping into the pit, but he ignored the wounds. He rammed the knife into Easy’s mouth.
Nicely veneered teeth shattered, and the blade skewered both sides of Easy’s split tongue together. Easy lurched backwards in surprise and let go of Kel as he reached up to grope at his mutilated face. Deeply offended grunts escaped him as he tried to yank the knife free.
Kel dropped into the pit. He grabbed the edge of it as he fell, fingers white and bony as he clung to the bricks. He kicked at the side of the pit, struggling for purchase, as he tried to groggily drag himself up.
“Don’t let go,” Shepherd yelled. It was obvious, but it still blurted out of him. He ran around the side of the pit, trying to keep his balance against the tremors that hammered the House.
The Lady was not a small thing. The cult had tried to summon her from the dirt of ploughed fields, on open acreage under the night sky. Not into a suburban basement. She didn’t fit. That would not stop her.
That was OK, Shepherd decided, as long as it slowed her down enough for him to get Kel.
He went into a skidding dive as he got around the pit. His fingers closed around Kel’s wrist just as he started to fall. The jolt of weight slid him across the ground, but he managed to catch himself.
“I got you,” he said.
Kel grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a blood-sweet, desperate kiss.
“I love you,” he said.
“...I suppose that’s up to you,” Shepherd muttered awkwardly.
He hauled Kel back up, and they both sprawled out over the cellar’s stone floor.
Kel lay on his back, breathing ragged, and Shepherd bent over him as he tried to recover.
The brand of Easy’s hand was scorched into Kel’s throat, blistered and scabbed over, and the wheeze of inflamed airways was audible.
The clatter of metal on stone interrupted them.
“Well done,” Easy said. They both looked at him.
He spat a tooth onto the floor. Under it was a nub of a fang.
He wiped his lips with his thumb and then raised his eyebrows at them.
“Very dramatic. I’m glad you got that out.
Because I’m still going to kill you. Both of you.
And whoever owns you, Housesitter, can kiss my black, shitty ass. ”
The fury of agricultural misfortune from the pit increased in frenzy. Shepherd pushed himself off Kel and struggled to his knees.
“I think she heard you,” he said.
Easy looked worried for a second, but he wouldn’t be a demon if he had a good grasp of consequences. He shrugged the Lady’s fury off as something to deal with later and took a step forward.
“Old man,” Kel said. He grabbed Shepherd’s shoulder and pulled himself up into a sitting position.
His voice was ruined, raw and rough as it scraped out of his scorched throat.
Smoke poured out of his mouth, thick enough to dread into knots and ropes as it twisted over the floor.
“I should have told you this the first time we met. Go to Hell.”
The smoke lashed out and grabbed Easy’s ankles, wrapped around his wrists. It stopped his mouth and tangled around the stubs of horns that jutted from his temples. Easy tossed his head like an animal at bay as he fought back against it.
It dragged him three steps toward the pit, and he managed to claim two back. Air snorted down his nose as he tore at his face with hooked, bloody hands.
“It’ll take more than this—” he snarled through the muzzle. Before he could finish the thought, Shepherd stuck his foot out and tripped him.
Hooves weren’t great for balance.
Easy windmilled his arms as he staggered on the precipice. “You’re my blood,” he reminded Kel desperately. “You can’t let me die.”
“I won’t,” Kel said as he scrambled to his feet. He stepped forward and shoved Easy into the pit. Then he turned his back on him instead of watching.
Easy laughed as he fell.