Page 215 of Nightshade

An ache swelled in my chest. “Remy?”

The dogs growled back, and as Cerberus reared back on his haunches to pounce, I held his collar.

“No. Stay.”

They followed my command, though the hairs on their backs remained standing.

Remy growled and hissed, but it didn’t feel like a threat. It felt as if he were trying to communicate something to me.

“Please. I want to understand you.”

Another creature bounded past him, coming for me, and he reached out for it, dragging it backward, and wrangled the kicking beast to the ground. With claws and teeth, Remy tore at it, ripping away chunks at a time, until there was nothing left but a pile of mangled and bloody meat. When he turned to me, face covered in gore, I gasped, backing up a step.

The dogs lurched again, but with a half dozen more Alatum bounding toward us, they abandoned their fight with Remy and went after the others. In a cacophony of growls and snarls, I stood paralyzed, shifting my attention between the brawl and Remy.

A terrifying vulnerability crept beneath my skin. The Alatum retreated back into the woods, the dogs tearing after them, leaving me standing there. Alone. Exposed.

Remy hobbled closer like an animal, and I sucked in a sharp breath, jumping back at his nearing proximity.

He held out the unusual-shaped piece of metal toward me.

A sadness claimed the demon’s eyes that were as black as coal.

Tears wobbled my view of him, and I nodded, reaching out until he’d placed the metal into my awaiting palm.

He tipped his head back in surrender. Closing my eyes, I exhaled and slid the metal across his throat.

Not a breath later, he burst into flames, and it wasn’t long before his entire body was consumed. I only hoped where I’d sent him was more peaceful that the fate he’d have otherwise faced.

Beyond his remains, an object fell from the sky and landed with a sickening thud that rattled the ground on impact.

Heart caught in my throat, I jogged toward it, praying that it wasn’t Jericho I’d find lying there.

As I neared, I could make out Drystan’s weakened form clawing across the ground, coughing and wheezing. Holes marred his wings, and half of one had been burned away to nothing but the bones that’d been fastened together. The hollow rattle of each inhale punctuated his struggle to breathe.

A short distance off, Jericho landed behind him and stalked forward. Hands balled into fists, shoulders bunched. Even in darkness, I could see the rage blazing through him like flames.

With the small bit of metal still clutched in my palm, I ran past Drystan to Jericho, handing it off to him.

He strode up to his weakened brother, who continued to crawl toward the cliff, perhaps trying to escape back to the mortal realm. Foot against the cambion’s back, Jericho brought his crawling to a halt and gripped Drystan’s crown, tipping his head back.

“I should’ve killed you all those years ago. It was my mother who urged me to spare you. My mother who showed you mercy. Not me.”

“Please … all I want … is her … father.” Every word Drystan spoke was broken by a gurgling sound in his throat. “To restore … my wings. Let me go. I’m … begging you. Brother.”

“You are no brother to me,” Jericho gritted out, wrenching Drystan’s head back.

“This isn’t … over.” His throat bobbed with a hard gulp. “The Sentinels … they’ll … come. For you. And … punish.”

“What else is new?” Not a breath later, Jericho swiped the sharp end of the metal across Drystan’s throat. Blood oozed from his wound, and Jericho released him, stepping to the side, as Drystan writhed and cupped his throat for the breath that wouldn’t save him. “Back to Ex Nihilo for you, Brother.”

The moment he’d spoken the words, Drystan’s body caught flame. No more than a minute, he was nothing more than ash and cinder.

Eyes on what remained of Drystan, I skirted the ashes and stood beside Jericho, sliding my hand into his, allowing the balm of his warm skin against mine to settle my nerves.

“That was clever, to ward off those Alatum back there. I’d never heard that particular phrase before.” His voice carried a battle-weary calmness as he lifted our clasped hands to his lips for a kiss.

With a smile, I nodded at the memory of Aunt Nelle sitting at the end of my bed, throwing those words out like holy water around the room. “That was Aunt Nelle’s cure for the night terrors I suffered. Though, I’m beginning to wonder if maybe there was something more than dreams she was warding off. I always thought it was a phrase she made up.”