by Holly Evans
"I know. I know," I whispered.
I ran my thumb along his cheekbone wiping away the last of his tears. Seeing such a strong predator crying, after the fight I'd witnessed only minutes ago, was surreal. I kissed between his eyes.
"You will make me proud. Now. Pull yourself together."
His mouth flickered with a smile. "Yes, mistress."
We stood together and walked to Kadrix and Quin; the hunters didn't dare approach.
"Is he ok?" I asked Quin.
He nodded. "He felt it, the shift in the energies. He's recovering."
Quin put his arm around Kadrix's waist and allowed the elf to lean on him while his colour returned. My head was reeling. We had mere hours to prepare for hell on Earth. How did we even prepare for that? I'd read about demons in books, but I hadn't seen more than two in my life, and they had been relatively low level. I knew that they were formed of fire and darkness; they required weapons of water and light to defeat them. I hoped that Kadrix had prepared for this better than we had.
After a few minutes, the hunters slowly walked over; they kept looking between Kadrix and Lysander.
Matyas said, "What do we do now?"
Quin said, "You gather everyone you can and meet us at the castle before sunrise. Tell them we're fighting demons."
They paled, but said nothing. They glanced between each other, mouths agape.
"Run! Time is ticking, you fuckwits!" I shouted.
They did so. They ran. I hoped they'd run quickly enough, although I doubted there was anything to be done. The fate of the city rested firmly on our shoulders, and Elise. Poor precious Elise.
Fifty-Three
Azfin and Haeyl had arrived not long after the hunters had run. They swept us up in the back of a large black car. Kadrix leant on Quin, his breathing shallow; concern was etched on Quin's face as he tenderly stroked the elf's back. Lysander looked out the window and refused to speak; I allowed him his time to brood and replay the fight and mistakes in his mind. The Sidhe explained that Kadrix felt the shift more keenly because he had connected himself to the city to aid in his alchemy and the hunt for the other hound. I fought against the sensation of being lost, of facing the mountainous task before us alone. Kadrix was so frail; logically, I knew that he would recover, but seeing him that way was frightening. We were deposited at Kadrix's workshop, our home away from home. The Sidhe left us, saying they were gathering allies and they would be there at the castle before sunrise.
Lysander tried to slip away into the darkness; I grabbed his hand and pulled him close to me. "There's much left to be done, hound, and you're not doing it alone."
The flicker of a smile passed over his lips. "Yes, mistress."
Every light and candle in the workshop lit with a small wave of Kadrix's hand; he stood a little taller and took in a deep breath before he marched to the centre of the chaos.
"There is much to be done; first, the hound must be repaired,” he said.
"He is not an object to be repaired," I said sharply.
He waved his hand at me, brushing aside my concerns. I looked at Lysander in the full light of the workshop, and my heart paused for a moment. His shirt was covered in blood. A small dent could be seen in his shoulder where the other hound had torn a chunk out of it, his jeans were drenched in blood from the bites and claw-inflicted wounds. He refused to raise his eyes to look at me. Kadrix went to push me aside with small copper bowls of green mush in his hands. I stood my ground.
"No. He is my hound. I will care for him," I said.
Kadrix muttered something about mating rituals and placed the bowls down on top of a lurid pink-bound book.
"Wash the blood away with the golden coloured water, then apply the green paste. His own healing ability will do the rest."
He walked back to Quin and started leafing through books; I returned my attention to Lysander. "Strip down to your boxers, those clothes are useless now anyway."
His movements were stiffer than usual, lacking the usual grace or eagerness to fulfil such a command. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the state of him. His torso was coated in blood, deep scratches cut into his muscle. His shoulder was a lumpy mess, but it had already begun healing. I dipped the soft white cloth in the golden water and started at the top, gently wiping away the sticky blood to reveal the damage that had been done. He slowly relaxed under my touch. His breathing became slower and deeper. His back was a mess of razor-thin white scars and fresh red wounds. The desire to wrap him up and keep him safe from the world, to wash away his past, grew with each touch.
Once I had applied the paste to every wound, his shoulder was beginning to regrow the skin and the shallower of the cuts were faint pink lines. The elf had said no new scars would be left. I trailed my fingers over his jawline, his head still hanging low.
I pulled his head down to my shoulder and kissed his cheek before I whispered, "Never again. You're mine now."
He nuzzled against my neck in response and took a deep breath, holding himself taller when he pulled back. He carefully stretched out his muscles and I stepped away, leaving him to his recovery.
Kadrix had deposited fresh jeans and shirt on a stool behind me. "He's a hellhound, he's going to destroy clothes. It was logical to keep spares here."
The elf looked much more himself. He and Quin were leaning over a bench with sets of tweezers, applying something very small to something glowing white. I was torn between comforting Lysander, making sure he healed properly, and investigating what they were doing.
Kadrix made the decision for me when he grinned and said, "They are complete. Evelyn, come here, we don't have much time."
I nodded from Lysander to the clothes, the last thing I needed was him getting a chill. I wove my way between the benches and heaps of things to Kadrix, who looked very pleased with himself. His eyes shone and the grin consumed the lower half of his face. He pulled Quin into a deep kiss.
I curled my lip and looked away before I said, "Are you sure now is the time for mating rituals? I can't say I'm quite as interested in elf rituals as you are hellhound ones..."
Kadrix laughed; Quin turned a bright pink. The elf carefully picked up a peculiarly shaped white blade from the bench. It was wider in the middle and narrowed into a sharp point, almost like a feather.
"This, dear Evelyn, is my gift to you and Quin. I have devoted three years to making these, and none are more fitting recipients than you two."
"Thank you, but I have perfectly good blades that I have practised with."
Kadrix laughed at me. "Evelyn, you silly little girl. These are made from celestial feathers. These are the only blades of this type in existence. I have made three, two for you, and one for Quin. Now come here, they need to meld to you."
Melding to me sounded like a painful experience; I wasn't convinced that I liked the images that sprung to mind. Kadrix huffed and took Quin's right hand. He placed the longest of the blade’s hilt in the palm of his hand. It looked to be about as long as a katana. The entire thing glowed white, silver threads formed over Quin's hand. He grinned and flexed his fingers around the hilt before he slowly swung it, getting the feel of it. His grin widened.
"Evie, you'll love it," Quin said, excitement woven into every syllable.
We had little time for arguments. I had no choice but to trust the elf. I knew very little about celestials, but they were the counter to demons. It wasn’t a huge leap, in my mind, to think that a weapon made from a celestial would harm demons. I walked around Quin and held out my hands, palm up. Kadrix placed a blade in each, a pair of short swords formed from the feathers of celestials themselves. A cool peace consumed me; the silver threads vibrated and sank into my skin. I slowly spun the blades, feeling them slice through the air. They were as light as my daggers, but their sharpness was unlike anything I'd experienced before. Kadrix pointed at a lump of wood that sat on a stool against the back wall. I cut at the wood, expecting it to sink in a couple of inches. It went straight through the foot
-wide stump as though it were cutting butter. My eyes went wide. We might have a chance against the demons, after all.
"They will inflict great damage on infernal creatures, but they're no better than normal weapons against everything else." Kadrix glanced at Lysander. "Your bond with the hound will keep him safe, the blades will not harm him."
I got used to the feel of them in my hands and moved them through the air. They felt like extensions of myself; I'd never experienced anything like it before. Kadrix handed me a belt with two sheathes on it. I had to admit that I was a little disappointed to put the blades away, but we had to focus. The belt was a perfect fit, the sheathes sat on my hips and secured to my thighs so they didn't get in the way. The elf opened a box and revealed two blood-red kris blades, his tongue flicking out over his lips. Lysander walked up behind me, his hand brushing over my lower back.
Kadrix grinned and said, "Do not fear, hound, you have weapons, too."
I eyed the kris with suspicion. The elf smirked at me, "Oh, Evelyn, you really must open your mind. These are why I took two hairs from your hound. Now, these are a rather special creation; where your blades are celestial, these are imbued with demon blood and phoenix essence. Where yours are the opposite, these beautiful creations will overwhelm the very essence of the recipient and tear them in two at the very base level."
He handed me the box. "I wouldn't want to interrupt your little mating dance, place the blades in his hands."
I ignored the taunting tone. Lysander held his hands out towards me, palm up; his eyes danced with excitement.
Kadrix cleared his throat and said, “One last little thing. Due to the nature of those blades, they must be blood bound. Once they are, you will able to summon them with your blood."
I glared at the elf.
Lysander gave a small nod. "I understand."
We had no choice in the matter. Any misgivings I may have had about the nature of these blades had to be put aside. The kris were warm to the touch; they rippled with fire, I could feel their desire to do and be more.
Kadrix handed Lysander a small, delicate blade. "Slice open your palms, not too deep."
The hound did so without a second thought. Blood welled up from the neat cuts from thumb to finger, directly across the centre of his palms. I placed the hilts of the blades onto the warm blood. Garnet red threads wrapped around Lysander's hands in response. He grinned and danced through the workshop spinning the blades much like a ballet dancer, his usual grace fully returned.
"Thank you, Kadrix,” he said gleefully.
The elf shrugged. "You’re a war dog, a marrok, a creature of your standing should have suitable weapons."
I narrowed my eyes and looked between them. "And what exactly is a marrok?"
Lysander's nostrils flared; the glee slipped from his face. "It is my rank, it means that I commanded a group of the elite."
I didn't need to know any more, his frustration bled out into the area around him. Kadrix threw a small blade, a letter opener at best, at Lysander and proceeded to shoo us out before we had a chance to say or do much more.
"The swords will require more blood to return to you when you release them,” Kadrix said matter-of-factly.
Lysander simply nodded before he opened his palms and allowed the swords to fall. They vanished the moment they lost contact with his palms. I was adjusting to magic; it sat uneasily in the pit of my stomach, but there was no room for arguments. The time had come.
Fifty-Four
“Why can't we use guns?" Viktor grumbled.
Kadrix rolled his eyes and said very slowly and clearly, “Because guns run out of ammunition and rely on very expensive bullets to do any damage. Blades have no such problems."
Viktor's mouth puckered into a small angry circle before he huffed and stomped off to join the other hunters that had huddled up by the statue. Shards of dusty pink sliced through the blue of the sky on the horizon; morning was coming. Azfin strolled up to us with a small band of fae. Haeyl walked at his side, forever the faithful second in command. Behind him walked what appeared to be three elves, all tall, slender, and predatory. Much to my distaste, they were followed by a collection of redcaps, in fresh white caps, ready to be dipped in blood. Azfin gave a small bow. His eyes remained fixed on mine, mocking me.
“My lady, more of our kind will be joining us soon. We will not be letting this city go without a fight. What are your plans?"
I looked to Quin and Kadrix, hoping one of them had something more than 'kill anything that looks infernal.'
Kadrix smirked and said, “The infernals will come up from the ground below, although the witches will likely arrive soon. The non-fae will kill everything that fits one of those descriptions. Some of us will be aiding those fighting, giving them energy so they can continue to fight long past their natural limits."
Azfin raised his eyebrow, “That lacks a little something... don't you think?"
I took a step toward the Sidhe. “A hellmouth is being opened, demons and infernals of all shapes and forms will be trying to take over our city. Do you not have something better to offer than sarcasm?”
His lips parted into a dark smile. “Ah, Evelyn, I had wondered where your spirit had gotten to."
Flashes of garnet appeared in the sky. Small shooting bands of colour tore across the sky. Mutterings and rumblings came from all present. Red spread across the sky in a sheer sheet, covering everything that had once been visible. The stars were extinguished, the clouds consumed, by the red. The earth below our feet began to tremble.
Quin shouted, “The cathedral!"
Everyone took off over the smooth brown stone towards the multi-spired cathedral that seemed to have grown out of the earth itself. Dark brown, black in places, a multitude of spikes that erupted upwards, questing towards the sky like stalagmites. The hunters got there first, but stopped dead, perhaps frozen in fear as the ground began shivering and shaking before a black clawed hand burst up. A wild-eyed young blond hacked at the hand with a ferocity only sheer terror could fuel. Spots of the floor appeared to turn to liquid, shimmering and quaking in the dull red light of the morning. Hands and arms, each deformed, clawed, and discoloured, reached upwards out of the liquid stone. Roars and screeches soon filled the air, mingled with cracking and the wet thwack of muscle cleaved from a body.
There was no organisation; we hadn't been given a chance. No one knew what to expect.
I shouted over everyone, “Humans, hack at everything that moves. Form groups, take one pit per group. Spread out, cover each other's backs. Supernals, do what you can with your magic."
It wasn't much, but I had nothing more to offer. I pulled my celestial blades and embraced the blood-lust travelling down the bond with Lysander. We were going to war. Kadrix had changed from the infuriating, pissy elf into a fearsome warrior. I paused for a moment to watch him flip, hack off two arms in mid-air, to land on the balls of his feet and decapitate another demon. I reminded myself not to piss him off… too much. As the sun rose, or appeared to, the demons increased in number. A small horde of imps pushed their way through the brown sludge and raced at us. My blades sliced through them with ease, but the sheer numbers were growing difficult.
Lysander was close at hand, a grin etched on his face as he tore into everything that came within reach, all of us careful not to touch the liquid floor. Kadrix more danced than fought, elegant pale-silver swords appearing to have grown from his very hands. He spun and pranced across the floor, cleaving everything that broke through from whatever it had previously been attached to. I didn't have a chance to look around and check on anyone else. The manic cackles of the redcaps suggested that they were having some fun. I didn't care, as long as we won.
More imps burst out the ground, clambering over each other, crying out and screeching at us. Shades pressed against them, turning the small sinuous bodies of the imps black where the shades spread over them, their ethereal nature making them somewhat fog-like. I jumped back from the edge of the pit
as my foot began to slip down through the floor. The moment's change in focus was enough; two imps sprang forwards. One slipped past me while two more clawed their way through the brown soup towards me. I decapitated one, the rest of its body slowly being dragged back down by its brethren. The others vanished behind me somewhere. I didn’t dare leave my position over the pit. I had to hope someone else would kill them. The shades, however, weren't quite so easy. Kadrix, for all of his dancing, missed one. It rushed a hunter at another pit behind us; there was nothing we could do as more lesser demons pushed through the gloop.
I quickly fell into an instinct-driven routine of hacking and slashing. I leant heavily on the muscle memory from the extensive sparring and fighting I’d done previously to carry me through the endless fighting. There was a constant stream of imps and lesser demons. There was no time to breathe. My focus narrowed over time as my mind slowly became more tired. More imps scrambled up through the brown gloop. Their claws raked down my boots, hoping to find purchase in my muscles beneath. I kicked one off and slashed through the back of the other’s neck. They were quickly replaced with yet more imps.
The numbers were becoming unbearable. We were struggling to hack them down quickly enough. For every one that we dismembered and killed, two more came up behind them. Haeyl came up behind me, muttering something in fae.
He took a breath and said, “We're stopping the portals from collapsing and allowing anything bigger through. Don't fuck up."
I thrust my blade through the head of the closest imp; it crumpled down into the liquid and was dragged down by black, scaled hands. My heart was racing, sweat beaded on my forehead; we hadn't trained for such long and sustained fights as this. I was glad of the fae working to give us energy from their magic so we could continue to fight. I had no idea how they were doing it; there was an odd tingling running through my blood that stopped me from collapsing.
The demons were relentless. I continued to hack at everything; Kadrix had stopped his flips and jumping, instead remaining rooted on the other side of Lysander, their blades swinging constantly.
