“This isn’t King Nergal!” I shouted. “This is Satan. He’s fooling all of you- look at his eyes.”
The Irkallan demons all looked at each other, then at me, where I knelt with one hand pressed protectively against Lucifer, and the other trapped under a demon’s boot.
They started laughing.
28
Melisande
The demon standing on my hand ground his heel into the back of it, drawing a shriek from me I hadn’t meant to let loose.
I had seconds to decide, but the choice seemed so clear.
The white fire of my healing magic came roaring to life inside me, and I pushed it through my veins, sending every last drop of it leaping into Lucifer through my palm. As soon as I felt the last bit of it jump over to him, I let go.
My hand was almost certainly fractured, and now unhealable, but I still had my legs.
I swept one behind the demon’s knee, catching him off guard and knocking him backwards. As soon as his weight left my hand, I tore my arm away, cradling the throbbing appendage to my chest, and thrust my uninjured hand into the ash bank where I’d last seen the Spear.
And felt the sear of fresh pain through my palm as the shaft met my hand, solid and warm.
Relief rose in me alongside the desperation. We had a chance.
I got to my feet, gripping the Spear as best I could with an injured hand. Arcs of brilliant light torqued around the dual points, and even Satan looked up, the brilliance reflecting on his new handsome face.
But he didn’t look worried, only vaguely frustrated.
“Do something about that,” he said, waving a hand.
The Irkallans surrounded me, crouched on the rocks overhead, jabbing me back towards the cavern with their own spears and swords.
Ignoring the pain shrieking up my arm, I spun the Spear around and sliced through the air towards the nearest demon.
The Irkallan moved too slow. One of the spear points just ripped through the webbing of her wing, no more than a scratch.
She laughed again, shaking her head like she was dealing with a child. Then the edges of the tiny scratch caught fire.
The amusement on her face turned to shock almost instantly. Within seconds the flames had caught both of her wings, and the rest of her went up like a torch. It was just like the Sin Eater, white fire spewing from her mouth and eyes, reducing her to a charred husk of a demon.
Her remains collapsed to the ground, blending in with the ash.
None of them were laughing now. All the amusement had left their faces, replaced with a bloodthirsty viciousness.
One of them jabbed, but the long tip of their spear slid off the chainmail Vyra had made for me. I came in for another attack, but he flew away, and another one jumped overhead, slashing with his sword.
I ducked just in time, even as several strands of violet hair were sheared clean away and fell to the ground.
All I needed to do was touch them with the Spear, and they’d crumble into cinders. I was making this harder than it needed to be.
Sweat dripped into my eyes and I prepared to drive the butt of the Spear backwards, ready to catch whoever was behind me.
Something sharp poked into my left side, jabbing just under my ribs. I felt the trickle of fresh, hot blood inside my armor.
I’d underestimated where the Irkallan was, and he’d slid the tip of his spear right between the gap in my sword-proof armor.
“Drop your weapon.” The spear point moved in a little deeper and I gasped, resisting the urge to go to my knees.
If they gutted me, they’d kill Sarai, shield or not.
One of the Irkallans leaned over Lucifer’s prone body. He pulled out a dagger of ebonite, this one with a curved blade that was lined with wicked barbs, and planted a knee in the middle of Lucifer’s back. The Morningstar let out a low groan.
I winced as more blood soaked into my shirt, and the Irkallan demon gripped a handful of Lucifer’s golden hair, pulling his head up.
Lucifer was pale, his golden skin gone white, but he was still breathing.
The Irkallan placed the dagger’s edge at his exposed throat with deliberate precision, finding the thready pulse beneath the thin skin, and looked up at me with pitch-black eyes. “Drop the weapon, or he dies.”
The blade barely moved, but a thin trickle of blood ran down Lucifer’s throat.
Satan said nothing in response to his son’s predicament. He