THE EVERLAST SERIES: Books 1-4

Chapter 27-2

“Well, if Brock forced his way into the position, he might have had to sell his soul to the god he wants to be subordinate to.”

Now my eyes went wide. “Wow, that doesn’t really seem like a fair trade.”

“It isn’t.” Morgan shook his head and hung the dagger on his belt.

“What are you doing, taking the dagger? Do you want to become a lesser god?”

“It doesn’t work that way. I probably can’t use its magic, so it’s not truly mine.” He looked around one more time. “All right, I think it’s time to go.”

I took a deep breath. “We’re going to attack the demons guarding the door, aren’t we?”

Morgan nodded. “Yup.”

It might have been our only option, but that didn’t make me like it any better.

After he dragged Brock’s body to the back of the classroom and stashed it behind a few desks, I followed his directions and hid behind the door, then held my breath and stood still.

He bumped the leg from the broken chair against a desk, making a loud noise. It took a few minutes, but the demons eventually marched in, slobber hanging from their sharp teeth, and their long, dirty nails sprouting from their claws dragging on the floor.

With shaking hands, I closed the door as the brutes advanced toward Morgan. They didn’t look for Brock. They seemed intent on attacking whoever annoyed them. And Morgan was doing a good job. He waved the wooden chair leg around and jumped on a wider desk to get out of their range. But the demons didn’t stop. Morgan tried to keep their claws away by brandishing his improvised weapon.

That was my cue. I tiptoed to the brutes and opened the vial with the fountain water. I prepared to let a few drops fall on their back, but one of them lunged at Morgan, messing up our plans.

I froze, my mouth hanging open, as I saw Morgan get pushed to the wall and scratched on his face. Shocked, I almost dropped the precious vial.

The other demon detected my presence and turned to me. Adrenaline shot through my system, and I was able to move again. I backed away, putting a few desks between us. Not that broken wood and metal would detain the demon, but I needed time to think.

He kicked the desks out of the way and lunged at me. I slid aside—his claws grazed my shoulder—and let him break his head on the wall. A second later he was after me again, his head intact but the wall in pieces. Pain sliced across my shoulder. I swallowed hard and glanced at Morgan, who was wrestling the other demon, trying to stab him with the Crimson Blade.

My second-long distraction was enough for the demon to slap me and send me flying. I hit my back on the edge of a desk, and he charged me again. He caught me by my neck and dragged me up, away from the safety of the ground. His huge hand choked me, and his nails buried into my skin. I worked on the vial, but couldn’t get the stopper off. My hands shook, and his grip was too tight. I couldn’t breathe. My vision went gray.

Just when I thought I was sliding into unconsciousness, the stopper popped off. With my left hand, I grabbed the demon’s arm and pulled him close to me. With my right hand, I turned the vial upside down above his head. The liquid dripped out, touching his skin. Instantly, he dropped me and yelled, putting his claws over his face. A burnt smell reached my nose before I saw the fire spreading over his body.

He backed up, yelling and jerking, trying to find a way to put out the fire crackling his skin.

That caught the attention of the other demon, distracting him. With a roar, Morgan pierced the demon’s chest with the Crimson Blade. Its body collapsed, and thick black blood spread over the floor, forming a large gooey pool. Crumpled in a corner, the demon I had set on fire stopped jerking. His melted skin was covered by blisters as the fire died out. I gagged.

“Two down.” Morgan stood. “Two hundred more to go.” He chuckled at his own dreary joke.

I turned to him and gasped at the sight of long, deep, b****y scratches on his cheek, his chest, and his thigh. “Morgan, you’re hurt.”

He pointed to me. “You too.”

Blood dripped from my aching shoulder, but the wound didn’t look as bad as his injuries.

“Can you walk?”

He limped to the door, gritting his teeth, and cursed. “It hurts, but I can walk.”

We peeked out from behind the door. The corridor was dark, but I could see the shape of a staircase ahead. A sign on the wall informed us we were on the second floor.

I pulled Morgan back inside the room. “Don’t tell me you want to simply run out of here.”

“I don’t like it either. Do you see any other option?”

I shook my head. Without the visions, there was no other option. Besides, between staying here and fleeing, I would rather die during an attempted escape. I just hoped no more demons decided to come inside.

He put his finger over his mouth and beckoned me to follow him into the corridor. We tiptoed to the end of the hall where the staircase was. He peeped inside another classroom. “Come,” he mouthed.

I followed as I didn’t want to be alone and surrounded by demons again.

We stood in another dirty classroom, littered with broken desks, dim light pushing its way through cracks in covered windows. The desks had been pushed to a corner. In the center of the room, candles lit a circle drawn on the scarred and dirty hardwood floor.

“What’s this circle?” I asked.

He searched a bag and a coat he found draped over a desk. “It’s for summoning Omi.”

My throat went dry. “What? So he did it? Brock called Omi?”

He showed me a car key in his hand. “Our way out.”

I recognized the keychain. Morgan had found Victor’s car key. “About the circle, Morgan.”

He finally looked at the circle. “I can’t tell. If we’re lucky, we interrupted the summoning. Otherwise, we’re wasting time talking. Omi could arrive at any minute.”

After a quick peek out the door to make sure drooling demons were absent, Morgan and I sneaked to the staircase.

Halfway to the staircase, I heard a caw and froze. What? Slowly, I turned toward a classroom with a half-opened door from where the sound came.

“What are you doing?” Morgan asked.

I opened the door the rest of the way and gasped.

Right in the center of the classroom, Micah was seated on a chair. He was bound by thick ropes around his bare torso, his ankles, and behind him, his wrists. His head hung low and he had several bleeding wounds spread across his body. And the raven, the one with the scar over an eye, sat on his shoulder.

Morgan shoved me aside and ran to him. “By the Everlast! We’ll get you out of here, my Lord.”

Micah grunted in response.

My heart squeezed. Among us, he had always been the strongest, the one who stood the tallest, the proudest. In truth, he was a god. Theoretically, an evil one. And now here he was, tied and hurt, small and weak.

Morgan tried to shoo the bird.

“D-don’t,” Micah said. “His name is Rok. He’s mine.”

Oh my. Swallowing my anger, I approached them and knelt beside Micah. This wasn’t the time to be mad at him for sending the bird after me, or for being the immoral god of death.

“I’m … sorry,” he croaked, tilting his head to me. He looked terrible with pale skin and dark circles under his eyes. “For not being able to … protect you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Gently, I cupped his face and held his head up. A cold jolt passed between us, and he inhaled deeply. Glad I was still able to heal him from his internal pains, I continued, “There were too many.”

Startling me, the raven took off and hovered in circles above us.

From his waist, Morgan pulled the Crimson Blade out and cut the ropes. Micah started slipping to the ground, but Morgan and I held him. We put his arms around our shoulders and lifted him. Even weak, Micah stood and took most of his weight with him.

Morgan nodded toward the door. “We have to keep going.”

Midway down the last flight of stairs, something jumped out at us. Morgan fell forward and rolled down the rest of the steps—Brock on his back.

With Micah hanging from my shoulder, I sprinted down to the wrestling men. Morgan stumbled up, kicked Brock’s face and ran to the nearest door, pulling Micah and me behind him. He shoved the door open. All we saw were demons. Dozens of them. And they had seen us.

The taste of bile built up in the back of my throat. My heart pumped so hard my ribs hurt.

“Leave me here and go,” Micah whispered.

“As if I would leave you behind, my Lord,” Morgan said.

Brock caught up with us. “Lord, you say?”

Damn it. Now he would deduce Micah was one of the gods.

The raven dove toward Brock and, broken and hurt, Morgan punched the other priest in the face, then threw me the car keys. “Go,” he yelled. I stared at the keys in my hands, frozen. “Run, Nadine. Go! Take him out of here.”

I wanted to help him. I wanted to knock Brock down and carry Morgan to the car with me, even though Micah already weighed a ton alone. I wanted to be able to rewind. I wanted to go back in time with a note that said don’t trust Cheryl and start the last year over. If I could do that, I wouldn’t be watching a friend being punched to death while demons hunted and salivated for us.

But I couldn’t rewind and I couldn’t forget. I had to flee. I had to live. I had to take Micah out of here and deliver him to safety. My family needed me to live. I needed to live. But I couldn’t leave Morgan.

“Nadine—they want you both, not me. I’ll be fine. Go!”

Morgan was right—if I stayed, I’d die and Micah would be recaptured. If I ran, Micah and I just might live.

But Morgan was going with us.

In my pocket, I found the vial. I slipped Micah’s arm from my shoulder and helped him lean against a wall. While both priests wrestled, I let some drops from the vials drip over Brock’s back. In my mind, I saw Brock frozen as an ice sculpture for a long, long time.

“What the …?” Morgan retreated a step from Brock’s still hands and nodded a thanks at me.

Micah stumbled forward, took the dagger from Morgan, and without any ceremonies, stabbed Brock’s heart. The priest’s eyes widened and two seconds later, the ice melted and he fell on the floor.

My hand over my mouth, I gasped. “You killed him.”

Micah stumbled again, clearly dizzy, and Morgan caught hold of him.

He fixed his black eyes on mine. “If we get out of here and don’t kill him, he’ll tell the other gods who we are, who you are, and they will come for you. For your family.”

A shiver rolled down my spine.

He was right.

Still, I didn’t like killing.

Blood oozed from the body, and I swallowed the bile building in my throat and the shock.

“We need to move,” Morgan said.

Nodding, I walked to them and put Micah’s arm over my shoulders again. We rushed back inside the building and down the hallway to the exit at the other end, the raven following us. Outside, we saw Victor’s Audi parked about thirty feet from the exit. We darted to the car.

And that was when demons appeared from the corner of the building, running and flying toward us. I ducked, but a claw ripped at my already injured shoulder. I kept running. Escaping. Living.

Near the car, I pressed the button on the keychain. The lock popped up as I grabbed the handle. We slid Micah onto the backseat, and the raven flew in. Then I jumped inside as Morgan entered through the passenger door. With wobbly hands, I locked the doors and turned the car on. The demons bumped against the car. One broke a window. I yelled and stepped on the gas. Ahead, down the dry and dusty road, was a blinking traffic light—the interstate.

“Faster,” Morgan coaxed, gripping my seat and leaning forward.

The wingless demons ran after the car until they couldn’t keep up with the speed anymore, but the flying ones continued their pursuit. A bat scratched the car from front to back.

“Victor will kill me,” I muttered, then shook my head.

What would Victor care? He was a powerful god. He’d never need a car again.

God, I was so stupid!

I pushed thoughts of Victor away. When I reached the interstate, I let out a short, puffed breath. I had no idea which interstate this was or which direction to go, but I hit the brakes and yanked the wheel to the right. The car fishtailed before the tires caught the pavement. I hit the gas, hoping the road would take me away from the demons. To safety.

I slammed my foot down and drove as fast as the car allowed. Now only a few bats flew with us. I kept an eye on them, turning the wheel and zigzagging away from their claws.

But they kept coming. A mass of bats zoomed down on us, flanking the car on both sides. I couldn’t get us out of their reach.

“Morgan, I have an idea.” I gave him the vial with the miracle liquid. “Splash that on us, on the car too, and let’s imagine we’re driving on another road, far from here.”

A few bats landed on the car and started scratching the metal, probably looking for a way to peel it open.

He eyed the liquid. “Ok, let’s try.”

“Know any safe road?”

“How about I-95 near Jacksonville?”

“Sounds good.”

Morgan opened the vial, tipped it sideways so his hand was full with the liquid, and sprayed it around. A few drops caressed my skin as my mind shifted to a safe, calm road in Florida.

Under my hands, the wheel of the car became soft, as if it were weightless. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, hoping we would arrive at our imagined destination rather than drive off the road and into the bats’ claws.

When I opened my eyes, expecting to see an empty and safe road, I saw them. Three figures stood right in the middle of I-95—accordingly to the bent sign along the interstate.

I stepped on the brakes with all I had. The tires squealed, and the car came to a stop inches away from the Fates.