Lead Demon

Kravens and Bloodlings

Kravens and bloodlings darted about, but the dust and debris from Dreya’s windstorm kept him and his comrades hidden. Elsewhere, he heard the screams and clashes of combat. Blood hammered in Seven’s ears. Water wanted to fight; Water was tired of running. It felt the pain and agony ripping through the fabric of the city, and it wanted to respond. It wanted to create more hurt. He kept a tight rein on the power, forced it down, but he knew if he stayed here, he wouldn’t be able to hold it down forever.

The temptation to unleash its power sang sweet in his ears.

The streets opened up ahead of them as they neared the shore. If he could get them there, maybe they could defend themselves. At least they couldn’t be surrounded, with the lake at their back. Buildings thinned out into smaller shops, the streets widening into long boulevards of abandoned benches and torn trees. Waves crashed and seethed, but at least here, for now, there were no Howls. He helped lay Devon on the ground.

Fire roared behind them, and their motel crashed down with a tremor that shook him to his bones.

“I have to go back,” Seven said, looking between the two of them. His heart hammered and his breath burned.

“No,” she said. Her voice was breathy from exertion, and her pale eyes seemed unfocused. “We have our orders. We are to keep you safe.”

“I’m not going to stand by and watch my troop get killed.”

Dreya must have seen something in his expression. Her resolve cracked.

“As you wish. I will support you,” she said. Her Spheres burned brighter as a tornado funneled down in the heart of the city. It roared like a demon, hungry and feral. He knew Air, being the most ethereal of the Spheres, was easier to wield, but how was she still channeling so much power? “Just make sure you make it back alive.”

Seven didn’t hesitate. He ran back into the flames.

*

If hell was a city, it would have been this one.

Seven raced through the burning buildings, Water writhing in his gut, Earth filling his limbs with momentum. Even the bricks were on fire, everything shadow and flame. Ash fell down with the rain, coating his sodden body in gray. Everything was crumbling, burning, roaring with despair. He skidded to a halt at an alley thronged with kravens, their misshapen bodies burning and bleeding even as their hunger drove them onward. As one, their heads snapped to face him, jagged mouths open and dripping disease. It was only then that he realized they were crouched over the broken body of a Hunter. All that was left of the corpse was cloth and snapped bones.

The monsters screamed.

Water screamed back.

Seven gave in to the siren song, and Water dragged him down with delight. Magic beat a battle drum through his veins as he let the power free.

He ran to meet the monsters head-on. He spun, slashed, danced with the pulse of Water. Battle might not have been graceful, but Water made it ecstasy. Blood sprayed through the air like oil, made his black clothes blacker. Water laughed, and he laughed, too.

Kravens fell around him like cards, crumpling headless into heaps. Talons slashed his skin, sent fire racing across his flesh, but Water delighted in the pain. He drowned in power, drenched himself in glory. Dozens fell, and dozens more came, drawn by the screams and the scent of blood. Water was a torrent of agony in his veins, and even that pain was bliss.

Something appeared over the writhing mass of bodies, a shape more humanoid than the monsters. The kravens went still, their prey momentarily forgotten. Seven’s lungs screamed from exertion. Water wanted more—more blood, more bliss—but he didn’t attack. He stood, transfixed, surrounded by corpses, the buildings on both sides of the alley burning and crumbling, everything black and red and ashen. The silhouette stalked closer, slowly, and that’s when Seven realized the flames bent around the figure—not away from, but toward. The remaining kravens hunched over as if kneeling, scuttling back toward the shadows and away.

What the hell?

All heat drained from the world the moment the shape resolved itself. Well, herself.

She wore a long white dress, splotches of black and crimson seeping up the hem. In her b****y hands was a glass mason jar. A flickering flame hovered within.

“Hello, Seven,” she said. How her voice carried over the roar of destruction, he wasn’t sure. It took a moment, through the haze of Water, to realize there was no way she should know his name. “Leanna will be so delighted when I bring her your body.”

Fire opened within her, and the jar blazed red-hot.

Cold lanced through his chest, his heart screaming with ice and agony. His grip on Water and Earth shattered. He crumpled atop corpses and screamed as wave after wave of freezing pain shot through him, all aimed at his heart. All aimed at draining energy from his Sphere of Fire. His back arched. His jaw clenched in a rictus.

The agony stretched on forever. He felt everything, everything. Rage and hatred, passion and desire—they coursed through his burning, freezing heart in a deluge. He couldn’t stop screaming, couldn’t stop the fist from tightening around his chest. Everything turned to ice. Everything threatened to burn his world away. And he knew...he knew that this was how he would die.

He would become a Howl.

An incubus.

Then, suddenly, it stopped.

Heat flooded through his body as he fell limp to the ground. His muscles relaxed, heavy and wet and shaking with newfound warmth. A hand closed on his shoulder. He flinched aside.

“Seven,” a voice called. Masculine, familiar. His eyes cleared. Jarrett stared down at him, his face b****y and eyes tight with worry. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s me. You’re safe.”

“What...” Seven croaked. His throat was raw.

“Shh,” Jarrett said. “She’s gone. Can you walk?”

Seven’s body gave another involuntary shiver. He shifted and tried to sit up; he failed. That was answer enough.

Jarrett lifted him to his feet. Seven ached with cold and heat, every nerve tingling like he’d plunged from ice water into a sauna and back again. The world around them burned, but he barely felt it. For the moment, Seven could only focus on the warmth of Jarrett, the solidity of the arms wrapped tight around his body.