Pirate's Promise (Sentinels of Savannah #5) - Lisa Kessler Page 0,72
her head just as the Tyrfing slid all the way through Greyson’s abdomen. He fired three more shots at close range right into the demon’s wrist, severing it from the beast’s arm before Greyson’s legs gave out.
Greyson crumpled onto the deck, taking the demon’s amputated hand still gripping the hilt of the Tyrfing with him.
“No!” she screamed, forcing herself back up.
Mamon spun around as a fountain of blood spilled from where his hand had been. He lumbered in her direction. She pulled the trigger on her Glock, hitting him over and over. His body shuddered with each bullet, but he didn’t go down.
She needed the sword. Greyson had gotten it away from Mamon, just as he’d promised he would. The rest was up to her.
The demon hissed with a twisted, bloodied grin. “Yesssssss, chosen one. It hungers…for you.”
She planted her feet and lifted the sights on her Glock a little higher. “Fuck you,” Aura snarled as she squeezed the trigger.
The bullet found its target right between the demon’s eyes, and blood poured down his face, blinding him. He no longer resembled the man she’d once known. The man she thought had been her partner. Chunks of flesh drooped, exposing brown scales underneath as he swiped his arms, still searching for her. She ducked, dodging around his last remaining hand, and ran past him, to Greyson’s side.
She fell to the deck, his still-warm blood soaking through her pants as she rolled him over so she could see his face. His skin was pale and cool to the touch.
He looked…dead. Why wasn’t he healing?
The demon roared behind her, still hunting blindly for his prey. She needed to stop that thing so she could tend to Greyson, but how? They’d both shot it multiple times. How could you kill something that obviously couldn’t die?
She ground her teeth against the buzzing in her head, struggling to think clearly. Greyson couldn’t be killed, either. But he wasn’t healing right now. Why?
The Tyrfing.
The curse. Had to be. She pried the demon’s severed hand free of the Tyrfing’s hilt and threw it aside.
Tears wet her cheeks as the volume in her head turned up a few decibels. Too loud.
Pain lanced through her head like it might finally explode and relieve the building pressure. She opened her hand, flexing her fingers before she finally gripped the handle.
Power jolted through her arm, as if she’d been struck by lightning. Her entire body seized, and suddenly, the world went quiet.
No buzzing, no groans of the demon, no wakes from the ocean lapping at the hull of the Sea Dog. No sound.
Maybe her eardrums had finally burst from the pressure. Or maybe this was how the world ended. Not with a roar, but with the deathly still of silence.
She slid the blade free from Greyson’s abdomen, her stomach lurching at the gore. He didn’t move. Her heart twisted, her vision blurring with another wave of tears. She’d lost him. The pit in her chest sucked the wind from her lungs. He was gone. He’d died keeping his promise to give her the sword. He’d sacrificed everything for her.
And he’d died without ever knowing she loved him.
The gut-wrenching sorrow and pain mutated into raw, visceral fury. She was going to end the demon and the cursed sword, even if it killed her in the process. Fear ceased to exist in this silent void.
She faced the creature that had gutted her life. This demon had stolen the world’s most powerful blade, hunted her down, and ruined her life. She’d given up everything because of this fucking sword, because she was the chosen one. Chosen one for what? The end of the world?
No.
Rage festered in her heart. She rushed toward the demon and leaped into the air, swinging the sword in a deadly arc, slicing through his body.
When she landed on the other side, the deck shook beneath her feet. She turned around with the Tyrfing still tight in her hand. Mamon’s torso lay motionless a couple of feet away from his legs.
Suddenly her hair whipped her face. She frowned, looking up at the sky. Still no sound. No birds, no water, no whispers from the sword.
She glanced over her shoulder at the dock, and a helicopter hovered as a ladder dropped from the cockpit. Agent Bale.
Although the copter’s engine and the propellers must’ve been roaring, nothing pierced through the eerie silence around her. She looked over at Greyson. He still hadn’t moved.
Her heart clenched again. None of this had turned out the way