Chaol #3
Valac flung a hand out, and darkness slammed into the paladin squad, toppling them over each other like bowling pins.
Ashmedai appeared in front of them, holding a hand out toward the nearest one.
His body began to twist and break, bones snapping loudly, and his ragged scream cut through the distant noise of the city.
Chaol stared, mesmerized. That was what happened when Ashmedai ate a soul from a living body?
“Get back, demon!” one of them shouted, clambering to his knees. He flung something liquid at Ashmedai, who shrieked in pain and cringed back.
Holy water.
“Ash!” Nicolas shouted, starting toward them.
Chaol moved first, the transformation sweeping over his body.
His wings tore through the back of his shirt, and with a powerful flap, he closed the distance to the paladins.
He grabbed the one with the holy water, claws sinking deep into his skin, and used his wings to flip himself backward, using his own momentum to throw the man high into the air.
He screamed, and the bottle of holy water clattered to the pavement.
Chaol turned—and flinched as a sword arced through the air toward him.
But it never landed. Daniel appeared between them, a furious snarl on his face. He grabbed the paladin’s wrist with one hand and his throat with the other, lifting him off the ground. Fire engulfed them both, and the paladin screamed, thrashing in Daniel’s unrelenting grip.
He was beautiful, light and heat blazing around him as he turned his enemy to ash. Valac appeared on Chaol’s other side, subduing the others so Ashmedai could take his time with them.
Out in the middle of the street, the paladin Chaol had thrown into the air landed with a crunch.
When Daniel dropped the blackened body, Chaol wrapped around him from behind, pressing his lips to his neck.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “Let the fire go now, darkling. It’s going to draw attention to us.”
Daniel leaned back against him, his eyes fluttering shut. The fire shrank little by little, and when Daniel turned his head to nuzzle Chaol’s jaw, it finally went out completely, leaving them in darkness.
The rest of the world ceased to matter when he had Daniel, trusting and pliant, in his arms like this. Ashmedai picked off the last of the paladins while Chaol luxuriated in the sensation of Daniel’s body pressed against his.
“Tasty,” Ashmedai quipped as he dropped the last twisted body.
“Our humans are ignoring us,” Valac said, and Chaol reluctantly pried himself away from Daniel so they could both turn.
Julian and Nicolas seemed to be deep in conversation, looking at their blades and gesturing animatedly as they talked.
Ashmedai appeared in front of Nicolas, drawing him into a kiss under his shadowed hood.
“What are you guys chatting about over here?” Daniel asked as they joined them.
“We were debating who put these etchings on the blades,” Julian said with a grin, sheathing the sword. “The guild used to have a blacksmith, right? I figure it was him.”
“They’re holy inscriptions,” Nicolas said, sheathing his, too. “I guessed it was the priest of the time, saying blessings over the blades after they were made to make them holy.”
“Why were you talking about that?” Valac asked.
“Because we realized how boring it was to patrol with four overpowered demons,” Nicolas teased. “Any one of you could have handled those paladins, and all the monsters hide in fear from you. There’s really nothing for us to do out here now.”
“What a hardship,” Daniel joked, “to not have to kill anything on patrol.”
Chaol glanced back at the bodies. A few arleth and arronid demons were approaching warily, intent on feasting.
“Speaking of monsters,” he said, calling the others’ attention to them. “Did you guys want to grab the paladins’ weapons before the demons start eating them?”
“Yuck,” Nicolas said, which Chaol thought was rich coming from the man who just kissed a sin eater on the mouth. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
Chaol turned toward the beasts and flapped a hand at them. “Beat it! You can have them in a minute.”
The demons shrank back into the shadows.
Julian’s blue eyes widened. “They understand you?”
Chaol shrugged. “Eh.”
“Somewhat,” Valac explained. “The way a dog understands its master’s tone and body language. They are particularly sensitive to demons who are more animalistic in nature, such as the kalmach and sin eater.”
“Yes,” Ashmedai rasped. “Born deep in the Pit, we were.” He inclined his head at Chaol, who warmed at the kinship he felt.
“Supposedly,” Chaol said as they approached the bodies, “kalmachs were once unable to shapeshift into human forms. That would have been thousands of years ago, long before my time. We evolved into shapeshifters who could use human language, but we once roamed the wilds of Hell like animals.”
“Hell has wilds?” Nicolas asked, pausing from the sword retrieval to gawk at him.
“It does,” Daniel answered. “Trees, caves, rivers. It all looks like something from another planet. I wish you could see it.”
“Perhaps one day they can,” Valac said.
Julian blinked over at him, his arms full of sheathed swords. “We can? How?”
Valac shrugged one boulder-like shoulder. “I had not considered taking any of you through Hell to make the transformation, but it’s an option. It would allow you to be immortal in your own right rather than relying on our blood.”
Chaol wondered how many of them would actually want something like that.
Drinking blood granted them strength and immortality without affecting their ability to handle their holy weapons.
Becoming a demon would change that and cut them off from ever reaching Heaven, which, thanks to the angels, they now knew was undeniably real.
How many of them would actually be willing to make that choice?
Nicolas glanced between Ashmedai and Daniel, an uncertain frown on his face. But there was longing there, too.
Nicolas’s mate and brother could never join him in Heaven. Maybe, for him, it wasn’t much of a choice at all.