Page 52 of Commanding Flame and Shield
The ground trembled, and long vines of earth, twisted and braided tree roots burst through the tile floor and spun around the demons’ legs, binding him to the spot. Alec.
Earth continued to break through the floor, whipping and snapping against the beast as it yanked free from the roots. They quickly replaced themselves, as relentless as their wielder. I felt my canines elongate as the growl tore from me, strength surging.
His shield cracked beneath the force of August’s, splintering like webs through glass. I reached my hands forward to attack, but two bladesthunkedinto his chest like an axe to a tree, and it staggered back, eyes widening again.Fae.
The thing faltered. Black blood sizzled around the hilts before its shield fell completely. August dropped his, swung his arms forward, and grabbed the hilt of Fae’s knives before roaring, “Burn!”
The demon went up in flames, battling frantically at itself as it screamed in pain. It collapsed into a heap on the ground, and I bombarded it in a wave of water before stepping on its throat.
“Why did you take them? Who are you?”
“Impossible,” it croaked again.
“Why did you take them?!” I screamed again.
“He’ll come for you, he’ll retaliate, he'll—”
The lifeless eyes rolled back in his head, and the demon’s words cut off under the weight of my boot. “Let them come,” I snarled back, rage seething in my chest.
Then he melted into steaming fluid beneath my foot, and I recoiled, flinging the demon guts off my boot against the wall. I turned to find August’s eyes, nearly back to their normal shade of green, and grounded myself within them. He looked as desperate as I felt, and bone chilling anguish bubbled up in my chest.
My voice came out in a desperate sob, “Aren!”
With a series of small pops and cracks, the others began to appear, lining the hallway with their energy. Too little, too late.
“We’ll clean up!” Aphaea’s voice quivered, and her hands trembled, but she met my gaze, her eyes resolved. “Go!”
TWENTY-ONE
STORM
AUGUST
Alvara stepped forward the moment our feet hit the floor. She threw her bow to the table beside her without breaking her long, urgent strides. The chaos around us was exponentially louder than it had been when we’d arrived the day Sebastian and Sky had gone missing.
Some were weeping. Men were hollering. Thundering footsteps echoed in the hallway beyond the gathering room. Someone swore. Above us in the infirmary, where Alvara had been healed only a month ago, people were shouting. There was the loud crash of something metal being tossed aside.
Saraya’s voice could be heard over the tumult, as she barked orders to those around her. She was upstairs too, and her voice echoed through the stairwell.
The encounter with the demon had lasted only minutes, but I couldn’t unsee that blade piercing Aren’s chest. Or the way Alvara’s entire body had glowed with rage under the flames that erupted down her arms, her eyes a fluorescent green. So much had happened in a few ticks of the clock.
She rounded the corner one pace ahead of me, and as spectating eyes found her fierce expression and blood-soaked clothes, the onlookers silenced, and parted to make way. Those in varying armor bowed their heads, bringing a fist across their heart, and then to their lips, before extending their fists or outstretched weapons to her—that salute I'd seen only one other time.
Only the healers still whisked about, in and out of the infirmary, rushing for supplies, and to fetch the souls Saraya needed.
I felt the tug on my mind just before their voices lifted to the heavens, reverberating off the walls in raw unity.
“Our Father, Who art in Heaven…”My mind buzzed with the prayer enveloping us, but my heart grew cold as we followed the long, splotchy trail of smeared crimson down the center of the hallway.
“…Glorious Archangel St. Raphael, great prince of the Heavenly court…”
The congregation of voices continued their prayer, hall lined with unmoving statues, except for those nervously shifting out of our pathway. Alvara’s lips moved over the memorized prayer, but her eyes were unblinking, trained on the infirmary doors. She threw them open and strode into the room of sprinting healers. Their hands were busy, and they buzzed between carts full of tinctures and bottles, and the bed where Aren had been laid, his pale skin somehow turning flat and grey, body concealed by the wall of healers.
“…Because you are the medicine of God, we humbly pray you to heal the many infirmities of his soul and the injuries that afflict his body. Glory be to the Father…”
The healers, brows furrowed in concentration, whispered the prayer under their breath, inaudible under the chorus of warriors calling out behind us. Aren opened his eyes, a twist between a smile and a grimace pulling at the corner of his lips when his eyes found Ally crossing the room.
The others?His mental voice was quiet and reserved, but clear. The fear in his eyes was the only giveaway to the direness of the situation.
