Lead Demon

Rebound

They ran through the crumbling, burning streets.

“Come on,” Jarrett said. “We’re regrouping.”

With Jarrett still supporting him, Seven hobbled through the streets. His foot kicked something. He glanced down and saw it was the woman’s head.

“What was...what was she?” he asked.

“A necromancer,” Jarrett said through clenched teeth.

Seven wanted to speak up, to tell Jarrett that this had been a setup: Leanna was actively hunting for him. My sister Leanna has an interest in you, Tomás had said. If Seven was wise, he would give up now. Or he would beg Jarrett for help.

Then he remembered Christal’s limp body, and Tomás’s heavy promise. Another shudder ripped through his body as chills raced down his spine. He looked up to one of the few remaining buildings and swore he saw a shadow standing there, the barest silhouette of Tomás. Watching. Always watching. Waiting for him to speak up. Waiting for another reason to kill.

Seven kept his mouth shut.

THE TWINS AND a half dozen other Hunters waited by the shore. Devon was conscious, but he crouched on the ground with his head in his hands, looking at no one. The sky was a hazy pink from the flames, and Seven felt the magic of Dreya’s barrier the moment he walked through. Regrouping. Right. It felt more like gathering for the s*******r. Storms stretched across the black horizon, arcs of lightning flickering over the endless water. How much of that was magic? How much was just nature being pissed?

Dark shadows oozed from the city as kravens and other nightmarish creatures swarmed the boulevard. Dreya’s shield was thin at best. Judging from the strain in her features, she couldn’t hold on much longer.

Jarrett helped Seven sit down on one of the benches. A few other dirtied Hunters were there, but no one seemed too heavily injured. He prayed that this wasn’t all that was left of their troop. Not only because that was a lot of deaths, but because there were many more Howls to kill.

And because, in some unknown, twisted way, those comrades were dying and bleeding because of him.

An explosion rent through the air. Light burst from the city, followed by a tremor so great he nearly toppled from the bench. But it wasn’t the mushroom cloud billowing into the air or the scent of brimstone that made them cower—it was the power, the sheer force of magic, that ripped through the town like a bomb.

Seven had seen power in his life, but never had he seen magic as great as that. Even the twins paled in comparison.

They stared in silence as the smoke cleared, weapons raised and pulses speeding. Air glowed brighter in Dreya’s throat as she reinforced the shield. There was a note in her eyes that scared Seven more than anything else: fear. Something told him it wasn’t an emotion she experienced often.

“What the...?” Derek whispered, Fire sparking around his bared sword.

A shape floated out from the ruins. The silhouette soared high above the crumbling towers and burning storefronts. Then a glint of light, a breath of power, as the stranger’s Spheres came into focus: Earth, Fire and Air. The energy radiating from them made Seven’s frozen skin drip sweat.

“s**t,” Jarrett cursed. He looked to the troop. They were broken, bruised, barely able to strike the lesser Howls now spreading across the boulevard. Fear was plain on everyone’s faces. Even Derek’s. Whoever this enemy was, they were far outmatched.

“We need to run,” Jarrett said. “We can’t fight this. Not now.”

Laughter cut over the sounds of fire.

“Run?” came a man’s voice. The figure above the city floated closer. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You’d be so easy to follow.”

In the blink of an eye, the figure stood before them, barely a dozen feet away. The movement reminded Seven of Tomás, and the thought made his sSebastianch churn. But this man was definitely not the incubus. This man was tall and sharp, wearing an immaculate black pinstripe suit. His gray hair was combed back, and his goatee was the color of ash. Every inch of him was sleek and strong, a sharp contradiction to the destruction around him.

He reached out his free hand and tentatively stroked the surface of Dreya’s shield. It crackled under his touch, flurries of sparkling energy trailing to the ground with a hiss.

“So charming,” he mused as he watched the sparks fall. “And so naive to think a magic so simple could protect him from me.”

With the press of his finger, he brought the whole shield down in a cascade of sparks. Dreya gasped, hands going to her throat as Air winked out. The man smiled directly at Seven. That look poured ice down Seven’s veins, and he knew that none of them would leave here alive.

“Who are you?” Jarrett asked. He took a step forward, his sword held at the ready. Air burned in his throat, but he didn’t make any move to attack. Seven couldn’t help but notice the slight shake in his hand.

“My name is Matthias,” the man answered. He gave a curt nod. “And I have come for the boy.” He pointed to Seven. Seven took a half step back.

“You can’t have him,” Jarrett said. Despite everything, Seven’s sSebastianch flipped at the resolve in Jarrett’s voice.

Matthias grinned. “Oh, I think you’ll find you’re much mistaken. My mistress desires him, and I shall bring him to her with or without your cooperation.”

“Mistress?”

“Leanna.” Matthias’s words dripped poison. The hole in Seven’s sSebastianch grew wider.

“Never,” Jarrett said. He didn’t take his eyes off the man, but Seven knew the body language well. Jarrett was preparing himself for one last stand.

Seven wouldn’t let him fight alone, not when it wasn’t even his fight. He tightened his grip on his staff. Dreya’s hand clamped down on his arm before he could move forward. She gave a slight shake of her head, her eyes never leaving Matthias.

“Let’s let him decide that, shall we?” Matthias asked. He winked at Seven. “After all, who better to decide the worth of his own life? Is it worth, say, one other?”

He waved his hand, like he was batting away a fly. Fire flared brighter in his chest.

Derek didn’t even have time to scream.

Fire burst from his chest and lips, curling around him and hollowing him out so that—in less than a heartbeat—he was nothing more than a shell of ash. His sword clattered to the ground, dropping from his paper fingers. The rest of him collapsed in a cascade of soot.