21. Winged Demon #3
The wind fights me. Rain lashes across my face, visibility is poor, and I shift with every gust. I beat my wings harder, pushing forward, cutting through the storm as I descend.
Behind us is a wealth of light, followed by a sharp crack.
Yes, yes. Thank you. I know.
Shaking my head, I aim us for the opening, dropping faster now. I tuck my wings slightly, using them to guide and steer our fall.
When I glance over my shoulder, I see the creature is much closer. Its massive wings beat rapidly, cutting through the storm as if it were nothing. When it mirrors me—tucking its wings and diving straight for us—I realize we’ve run out of time.
Thunder rolls across the sky.
I snarl. “Not bloody helpful.”
Jerking back, she eyes me. “What?”
“Sorry, not you.” Then I demand, “Tell me where it is.”
“To your left—” she says, her fingernails biting into my shoulders.
“Hold on.”
I bank hard, wings pulling tight to my body as I drop several feet in a controlled fall before snapping them open again to catch the descent. The maneuver buys us a sliver of distance—but not enough.
The creature shrieks.
A caw. Avian in nature.
We break through the tree line, skimming the canopy. Branches spear upward as if pleading with the sky for nourishment that never came. I’m forced to navigate with care as I weave through narrow openings, angling between skeletal limbs, using the forest to hide us and slow it down.
Another enraged shriek—closer now. Branches snap behind us.
I fold one wing slightly and pitch us downward and to the left, committing to the descent. The opening in the trees rushes up to meet us.
We drop hard and fast.
Another piercing caw—this one of a predator not used to being denied its intended meal.
Behind us, the creature follows—reckless now, driven.
Through the trees, I get my first glimpse—more bird than man. A hooked beak. Scarred, charcoal skin. Sparse, matted feathers cling to its skull. Eyes—yellow-white, glowing through rain and gloom.
Another screech splits the air—excitement and revelry given voice prior to the kill.
Rot and wet decay slam into my back, the creature hitting with full force. Its claws punch through armor, tearing into flesh beneath with a sickening, dragging grip. Pain explodes across my shoulders.
My wings falter.
My grip breaks.
She slips.
Our hands reunite and then part, the slickness of skin to blame.
“Eri!” Her name was ripped from me without consent.
For one breathless second, she’s falling—screaming my name in return as she desperately grasps at the empty air for purchase.
I throw my power and my ability to shield—what I’ve managed to build up since healing her behind me. The demon is torn from me. Its claws are shredding muscle and skin as it disengages.
Then I dive.
I catch her.
My hand snaps down, fingers locking around her arm in a tight grip before she can drop further. The jolt nearly tears my shoulder, but I haul her back against me, clutching her tight as the creature reengages.
It screeches again, beak snapping near my neck. Its claws stretch open as it reaches for both of us.
Not today.
I twist midair, ignoring the tearing pain across my back, and drive my shoulder into it. My free hand catches one of its limbs—
I grip. Hard.
And rip it from me.
With a roar, I spin and hurl the creature away with everything I have left. Might. Power. And my divine light.
It spirals through the trees, smashing through limbs before catching itself on a branch that breaks soon after under its weight, and together they both fall.
We drop the rest of the way.
I don’t aim now—I just get us down.
We hit the ground hard. I absorb the impact as best I can, setting her on her feet before stepping in front of her, putting my body between hers and the demon.
I draw my sword, running my hand along the blade. The marks ignite at once—divine light flaring through the runes, casting sharp illumination across the shadows.
“I can protect myself.”
Now is not the time for this fight, I remind myself, teeth grating as I step away from her and scan the trees.
“Fine. Then do so.”
I hear her unsheathe her weapons—twin blades singing free. For a brief second, I reconsider putting my back to her. When I glance over my shoulder, I find the same war of trust reflected in her pale eyes.
“Put a blade through my back, and it’ll be the last thing you do.”
She swallows, nodding once. “Noted. Let’s just kill this thing, and we can deal with our issues after, yes?”
“That’s the plan.”
A deafening squawk splits the air as the demon crashes through the canopy and dives straight for us.
It targets me.
Its claws miss, but its beak snaps for my face.
I dart forward and to the side, slashing across its left wing as I move. The blade bites deep, splitting it open. The creature lands hard, spinning—then lunges, its massive beak clamping down on my shoulder.
Pain explodes.
It wrenches me off my feet and hurls me aside. I flip end over end, then catch myself—skidding across the ground on one knee, blade hand braced, knuckles digging into the dirt.
It shrieks—
Not at me.
At her.
The priestess is already on it, delivering a deadly swipe of her blade across its torso before she retreats a few steps.
Then, ducking as it snaps at the air where her head had been only seconds before.
When it lunges again, she leaps to the side, dodges its attack, then twists to strike from behind, fast and precise.
She’s fast, but the creature is also relentless.
I get to my feet. With its back to me now, as it stalks her, I spy the blade embedded deeply into its back and get an idea.
I surge forward.
Grabbing the hilt of the blade, I use it to haul myself up, climbing the creature’s back. My legs lock over its shoulders as I gain purchase, one hand gripping its skull.
Without hesitation, I drag my blade across its throat. Black ichor erupts, spilling hot over my hand.
Below, the priestess cries out. She’s no longer free.
Inky liquid sprays across my face, but I can see enough to know time is of the essence.
One claw is clamped around her torso—talons rest deep in her chest. The demon lifts her from the ground. She hacks at its leg, striking again and again, but it does not release her.
Blood seeps down her cloak.
Her painful cries cut through the chaos.
Something in me snaps.
I spin my blade in my grip and drive it down—straight through the crown of its skull.
The creature jerks.
Stills.
Then collapses beneath me, its grip loosening as it crumples to the forest floor.
She falls with it.
I wrench my blade free and go to her, kneeling at her side. What I see is a block of ice wedging itself inside my chest.
My hand hovers as if to help. She shoves it away with a groan—a raw, broken sound—as her gaze drifts to her chest. Her eyes dart back to my face, holding a grimace. “What, not a good look?”
I don’t smile. The joke is not funny in the slightest.
The creature’s talons are still buried inside her, hooked deep.
Carefully—too carefully—she grips one and pulls. It slides free with a wet, resisting sound. Then another.
Each one costs her. I can see it in the tightness of her jaw, the tremor in her hands.
“Let me help.”
She shakes her head sharply. “No, I’ve got it.”
When the last releases, she shoves the creature’s limb away, and it hits the ground with a heavy thud.
For a moment, she does nothing but breathe heavily and peer up at the sky.
“Are you all right?”
“No, but I will be. Just give me a second.”
I stand and offer her my hand.
Seconds stretch as she considers it.
I release a pent-up breath when her stubbornness recedes enough for her to take my help. Her palm meets mine, and I help her gently to her feet.
Strands of her white hair have fallen over her face, and black blood coats much of her skin. I don’t know if what I feel displays itself on my face, but I also don’t have the energy to hide it.
She peers up at me much the same, with disbelief and something akin to awe. “That was way too close for my liking.”
“And here, I thought you said you could protect yourself.”
She scowls, but her attention drops to her chest. Her wounds slowly begin to close. The flesh knits itself together in slow, visible motion—sealing over what should have been fatal.
I’ve seen her heal before. Felt it.
But not like this. Witnessing it brings me a measure of relief. More than relief, but I’m uncomfortable naming what this feeling is.