Lead Demon

Rage

“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 possession 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.

Seven cried out. Dreya’s hand tightened, kept him from running forward. Derek had been an a*s, but he had been alive. He’d been worth keeping alive.

“You bastard!” Jarrett yelled. He launched forward; Matthias held up a hand, and Jarrett stopped in his tracks, seemingly held in place.

“Now, now,” he said. “Let’s not be too hasty. After all, I highly doubt Seven would like any more deaths to weigh on his soul.” He looked at Seven, his smile deepening. “Personally, I would have thought Mommy and Daddy were enough.”

The words were a punch to Seven’s gut. He stumbled back and felt another set of hands holding him up. He barely had time to register the twins flanking him before Water stirred in his sSebastianch, dragged at him with cold fingers. Mom, Dad, where are you? It took everything he had to force the b****y memory down.

“You aren’t taking him,” Jarrett said. His voice was deadly low.

“Your choice, Seven,” Matthias said, as though he hadn’t heard Jarrett’s warning. He gestured to the rest of the troop. “You have seven more chances to come willingly.”

There was no way in hell Seven was going to let anyone die for him. He wasn’t worth it.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll go.”

But before he could shake off the twins to join Matthias, Jarrett lunged into action.

Seven yelled, but Matthias just brushed Jarrett aside with a wave of his hand. Jarrett skittered to the ground at Seven’s feet. The rest of the troop rallied immediately, running toward Matthias with weapons raised and magic blazing.

Before Seven could join the fight, before he could keep these idiots from dying for him—him, worthless, meaningless him—someone pulled him back toward the waves. Fog descended over the boulevard, broken only by muffled shouts and flares of fire. Then he was plunged beneath the waves, and everything went cold and black.

*

They raced beneath the waves of the lake. Magic wrapped around them, pushing them through the water at breakneck speed. Seven’s lungs burned as they rocketed away from the shore, heading deeper and deeper into the depths of the lake, far out of Matthias’s sight. He couldn’t see anything through the darkness, couldn’t tell how deep they were diving. But he could feel the cold pressure of the water, the endless expanse of the lake, as his own magic-fueled senses stretched out. Dreya’s hands were still tight on his arm; he tried to fight her off. He had to get back to them. Had to save them. Had to keep them from killing themselves over him. But Dreya’s hands were a vise, the magic and water pressing him tight to her. Try as he might, he couldn’t break free. His lungs and limbs burned with the effort.

When he couldn’t take any more, he took a frantic breath. Air filled his lungs. He didn’t even bother to be surprised.

He gave up the struggle.

Deep in the darkest pits of his heart, he knew it was already too late. His comrades were dead or Howls now. Matthias wouldn’t have delayed the s*******r. If anything, Seven’s leaving probably hurried it.

The only consolation was the tingle of magic nearby. The slight halo of energy that ringed the others who fled beside him. The hazy halo of blue emanating from Devon: Water and Air, just like Dreya. And just like Dreya, he carried another. He could sense the shape of the figure with Water’s power. Jarrett.

It shouldn’t have made his heart warm, but it did.

He expected the dark water to erupt into flame, expected Matthias to drop down into the depths and kill them. Matthias had to be close behind. He had to be following them, enraged, and Seven could only imagine what would happen to them when they were caught. The ash of Derek’s body still seemed to cling to Seven’s lungs, making him want to gag. Derek’s image stuttered like a broken movie reel, shadowed by the flares in the fog, the silhouettes of his comrades as they fought against Matthias. As they died for him.

Because of him.

Seconds turned to minutes. Minutes ebbed to hours. Seven lost track of how long they fled, and the depths gave no hint of the time. There was nothing to distract him from the memories, from the smell of his comrades’ burning flesh. Nothing to distract him as Water regurgitated the battle scenes, meshed them with all the horrors of the past few years. Every once in a while, his attention would flick back to the water surging around them. Back to the hands holding him tight.

Back to the awareness that Jarrett was nearby. Safe.

Why did that make him feel better?

Why did it keep reminding him of a past he’d tried so hard to forget?

After what felt like days, the water around them lightened. The sun must have been rising; they were still so deep he couldn’t see more than a tinge to the black. A tinge that illuminated great shapes below them. The Sphere of Water filled in the rest. Massive blocks stretched through the darkness like shipwrecks, forms of concrete and steel. Some glinted slightly in the sun. Others were dark, pitted and cavernous.