"No worse off than you—watch out!"
It wasn't a warning I needed. The creature had barely hit the stone when it was in the air again. I threw the last bottle of holy water, but the hound somehow twisted, and the water hit trailing innards, not flesh. I swung the blade, slicing across the creature's snout, then twisted out of its reach. It had barely smacked down on the stones when it leapt again. But as it did, Amaya and I once again became one. All her fury, all her energy and her vicious need to kill became mine, and I screamed as she screamed. Together, we severed the creature's head clean from its neck even as it managed a last, desperate slash with its claws. I sucked in my gut, felt clothing and skin part, but little else, still held by the fury that was Amaya. As the hellhound hit the stone in separate parts, her fire leapt from the blade and covered both. In very little time, there was nothing left but ash.
I lowered Amaya's point to the stone and leaned against her, suddenly weak with relief. We'd done it. Somehow, we'd beaten them.
All we had to do now was get out of here.
Jak's hand slid around my waist as he leaned next to me. "You okay?"
I took a deep, somewhat quivery breath, and released it slowly. "Yeah. You?"
"Scratched, bleeding, and fucking glad to be alive."
I smiled, as he no doubt intended, then straightened and stepped away from his touch. "I don't think we can get out via these gates. I think we need to go back through the tunnel."
"Then we'll have to leave our prisoner. It'll be next to impossible to drag him through it."
I grimaced. "But we can't afford to leave him. The last thing we want is him reporting back to his masters. At least if we get him upstairs, Azriel can alter—"
I stopped as once again awareness swept over me.
Someone else was in the tunnel, and they were coming our way.
Chapter 8
I half raised Amaya, then stopped as fear gave way to realization. It wasn't a foe who walked toward us; it was a friend.
Uncle Quinn—Riley's moon-sworn lover, and the half Aedh who'd taught me how to use my own Aedh skills—to be exact. He was also a former Cazador, and one of the few who not only survived the experience but walked away virtually unscarred. And that, to me, only emphasized just how deadly he could be.
It was a damn shame he hadn't turned up five minutes earlier. He would have handled the hellhounds with one hand tied behind his back and very little bloodshed.