into the backseat of the vehicle. He leaves the door open for Zora before running for the driver’s side.
Zora’s hand goes around my waist as she grabs my arm and forces it around her shoulder. She then helps support my weight to keep it off my injured ankle as we try to make our escape.
More bullets fly and I take the time to look over my shoulder to see all six daemons leaping off the docks in pursuit.
While they don’t have magic, they are incredibly strong and fast and there’s no way we’re going to outrun them. I know that I have to turn and make a stand if I’m going to keep Zora safe.
I toss her arm off me and give her a shove, turning to face my adversaries.
It’s just in time to see the closest one aim his gun at me, and the one behind him aim his at Zora.
There’s no rhyme or reason for what I do, but when the guns discharge almost simultaneously, I’m already diving sideways in a flying leap to put myself between Zora and the bullet headed her way.
It catches the outer edge of my upper arm, slicing through my flesh. It feels like fire, but I can tell it’s nothing more than a graze.
I am, however, now hurtling toward the pavement again, which is putting me at a distinct disadvantage to fight and protect my sister.
I roll to face the onslaught of daemons, thrusting my hands out and trying to conjure a shield big enough to cover Zora, the G550, and me.
But before I can let my magic loose, there’s a flash of light and Carrick appears between the daemons and me. His back is to me and he doesn’t even give me a glance, but I watch, astounded, as he does nothing more than lift his arms just a bit from his sides, palms upward as if he’s making some type of offering, and then, somehow… unbelievably… all six daemons combust into flames. Their screams are shrill as they stumble around for a few moments before dropping first to their knees and then toppling forward to the pavement.
The flames extinguish, and the blackened, grotesque bodies start to writhe in pain. Carrick turns his hands until his palms face the burnt daemons, and a wave of iron spikes appear in the air. Hundreds of them. Without him even moving a muscle, they heed his will and shoot toward their targets.
More shrieks as the iron pierces their skin, muscles, and bones. So many spikes that their hearts and brains can’t escape the onslaught until, one by one, they go still and start to dissipate into black smoke and ash.
When the last one floats away on the breeze, I roll over to my back and stare at the sky, sighing a huge breath of relief. Carrick could have just killed them with the spikes, but he burnt them first as punishment for daring to try to hurt me. God help me, but I love that savage side of him, too.
The sky darkens, and my vision is filled with Carrick hulking over me, fury on his face. His teeth are gritted when he snarls, “You have a lot of explaining to do, Miss Porter.”
I close my eyes, sighing again. His use of my formal name is ridiculous at this point. He knows my body, heart, and soul intimately, and I’m merely Finley or “my love” to him.
Still, that’s his way of letting me know his displeasure, as if his irritated expression doesn’t speak loudly enough.
I think about coming back with some smart-ass comment, but he doesn’t give me a chance. I’m lifted in his arms, groaning at the aches and pains, and I choose to remain quiet as Carrick carries me to the Mercedes.
* * *
It’s a quiet and somber ride back to the condo. Carrick drives and Boral takes the front passenger seat with Zora in the backseat in between me and Blain, who is still blessedly unconscious. He didn’t witness one moment of what just went down to save him, and I’m especially thankful he didn’t see Carrick incinerate and then mutilate the daemons.
Zora leans across me to press gauze to the groove from the bullet in my upper arm. My ankle is throbbing, but that’s the least of my worries.
I half expect Carrick to light into Boral for allowing me to rescue Blain while he was gone, but the only thing he does is dial someone on his cell phone. When whoever