Chapter 35 #4
The rest of Elsie’s squad either dispersed to where they were needed, or dragged themselves over to where Marley had set up a triage point. The healer was single-handedly running a field hospital, directing the other squad’s healers on who needed to be helped and in what order.
Elsie stood, aches and pangs jolting through her body, complaining about the extent of the damage she’d taken. She winced, cradled her broken arm against her stomach, then laughed about it, earning her a scowl from her demon.
“Oh come on, we’ve survived worse,” she joked, but she couldn’t force a smile. Not everyone could say the same, and they wouldn’t have a full count of the dead until they ripped the demon open and examined the contents of her stomach.
Even with five squads, plus Saint fighting at her side, not one person had come out of it injury-free. Bleeding, broken, and bruised demon hunters wandered aimlessly around them with various versions of the same lost expression on their faces.
“That was a lord, right? I’ve never even seen a lord before. With or without five squads to help me,” she snickered, moving closer to the centipede to inspect the damage.
“A lord? Mistress, don’t you recognize an ancient forest god when you see it? Don’t get too close to her,” Saint warned. “We may have severed her damned head, but that doesn’t mean she’s dead yet.”
Sure enough, the demon’s eyes were still open, and as soon as she noticed how close the pair had gotten, those mandibles started working, as if itching for one last chance at revenge. The legs were still twitching as well.
“I need all squads to give the centipede thirty feet of clearance. The head is severed, but still functioning. Nobody gets close to this thing unless I say so,” she ordered in the comms.
The squad leaders gave their acknowledgments, but they were slower now, quieter. Everyone was starting to realize how deep a toll this fight had taken.
“I need reports. How’d we do?” she asked.
“One amputation, several broken bones, and the loss of my second in command,” the leader of squad three answered first. It felt like a punch to the gut, and Elsie actually grabbed her stomach in response.
“Three of my people are still in triage. Loss of one warrior, waiting to learn if our geographer will survive,” Squad Two’s leader replied.
“The battle is over, and the survivors have you to thank for it. You’ve fulfilled your duty to them, it’s time for us to go,” Saint muttered. He caught Elsie’s pale eyes, and for just a second her mouth tightened, then she nodded.
“Let’s go.” She took a step toward him, jerking back when a tall man walked in front of her.
“My squad leader is dead,” Callum reported, his back to the centipede. “He died saving one of the recruits.”
The news hit hard. Elsie closed her eyes, wishing it all away. Her attention only broke for a moment, but that’s all the demon needed. With the last of her strength, the centipede lashed out with one scythe-like arm, aiming straight at Callum, who shouldn’t have been there in the first place.
“You stupid fucker, move!” Without thinking, Elsie ran forward, and pushed him out of the way. Her whole body felt the impact, muscles spasming and bones shaking in their frame. It felt as though she’d fallen from a great height, and every inch of her screamed in pain.
Looking down, her mouth fell open in shock. That damned arm had punched a hole through the center of her chest. Her eyes were drawn to the demon’s, and Elsie swore she saw a ghoulish smile play across that blown-apart jaw.
“No!” Saint gasped, rushing forward to yank the insect’s arm out of her chest.
“I didn’t–it–it was an accident!” Callum stuttered, picking himself up off the ground, face ashen white. He took one look at the fury on Saint’s face and took off running without telling anyone about the devastation he’d caused.
“Oh, gods!” Morgan cried a short distance away, unaware of what had just happened. “Elsie, it’s Steve!”
Her head swiveled at the anguish in Morgan’s voice, drums thundering in her ears. The warrior who’d done so much to overcome his weaknesses was crushed under the centipede’s body, the light gone from his eyes.
“No!” She stumbled forward, then fell.
“Mistress! Stop! Stop, you’re going to die,” Saint choked on the words. He sank to the ground with her, hands fumbling in distress. The blood was coming too fast. Even if he carried her, he’d never get Elsie to Marley on time.
“I’m so cold,” she complained, trying to give him a smile.
Tears filled her beautiful demon’s eyes, and she felt his panic echoing through the connection they’d never had the chance to finish forging.
“It’s going to be okay, Saint. I’ll heal up fast, and then we’re outta here. I’ll take good care of you.”
“Don’t lie to me, you little idiot. You can’t even take care of yourself right now,” he scolded. He shoved her shirt upward, revealing the gaping hole in her middle. “I’m sorry, but I refuse to sit back and let you die.”
Desperate to save her, he poured his demon magic into her body. Elsie couldn’t answer. She’d blacked out.
“MARLEY!” Saint shouted. Both of his hands were pressed against her wound, while he used his magic to form crystals in her blood, temporarily stopping the bleeding. His voice shook with desperation as he sent his first prayer to Elsie’s mother. “Santa Muerte, you bitch, save your daughter!”