Destiny Gift (The Everlast Trilogy) - By Juliana Haygert Page 0,85
“Not really.” He stood up and scanned the classroom. “We need to get out of here.”
“I know.” I propped myself up, holding a desk.
My legs could barely support my weight. I hadn’t slept or eaten anything for only God knew how long, and the gashes on my shoulder stung and throbbed each time I moved. I could lie down and sleep for a whole week. “Omi is coming. Once he arrives, we have no chance of escaping.”
The corner of Morgan’s lips twitched up. “I have a plan. Not sure if it will work, though.”
In the back of my mind music played. I hummed to the tune, letting hope flow through my veins. His half-thought-out plan had to be better than sitting around like a couple of victims.
***
I sang again, louder this time—a happy pop song with high notes that demanded more of my vocals.
Brock pushed the door open and marched in, his nostrils flared and fingers clenched. He slammed the door shut. “Will you shut up?”
“Why?” I asked, sitting on one of the few unbroken desks, trying to mask my motives with a scared expression. “The demons don’t like it?”
“Your singing is ruining my concentration.” He leaned closer. “Shut up before I knock you out again.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” I whispered, hoping to charge his ire.
He readied his hand to strike.
“Brock!” Morgan called in time. The evil priest turned, but Morgan slammed him in the head with a piece of broken desk. He fell on the floor beside me, unconscious.
Morgan hunched over his former friend, searching his pockets for useful tools and weapons.
I fought against my irregular breathing. Becoming nervous or scared wouldn’t help our quest. “What now?”
“Now we wing it,” he said.
“Excuse me? This is your plan? To improvise against dozens of demons? Oh God.”
“Better than staying here and waiting for a miracle. Do you have a better idea?” He stood. In his hand, he held the vial with the strange brilliant liquid. He was staring at it, hypnotized.
“What is that stuff?”
“Well, if it is what I’m thinking, it’s supposed to be the water from the gods’ fountain. Omi probably gave it to him for this task. It has magical properties, responding to the thoughts of the person using it.”
“We should hold on to that then, in case we need more help.”
“We’ll definitely need more help.” Morgan gave the vial to me. “We still have to figure out how to pass through the demons outside without being eaten.”
That made me think. “By the way, why aren’t there more demons inside guarding us?”
“Demons can’t stand being in confined spaces for long.” Morgan continued to rifle through Brock’s pockets. “I believe they trusted Brock would be able to contain us. Besides, demons aren’t very bright, you know.”
“Let’s hope they’re super dumb for the next few hours.”
Morgan retrieved an odd looking dagger strapped to Brock’s lower leg, under his pants. It was small and had a bright curved blade. The hilt was silver with encrusted red gems.
“The Crimson Blade,” Morgan whispered, his eyes wide. “It is said that whoever possesses one of these”—he held the dagger up—“either is or will become a lesser god of war, a subordinate of Omi. I can’t believe Brock went this far.”
“Is it so bad to become a lesser god?”
“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 class 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.