"No. You're the greatest brother ever born and I will be forever in your debt."
"Oh, goody," he said with exaggerated happiness. "Just what I've always wanted." He let out a tired sigh before he groused, "So what are we doing?"
"Well, the Daimons attacked them in the swamp. That means that they're here in New Orleans . . . somewhere. I say we start hitting their usual haunts until we find them and expire their worthless hides."
"And how will we know when we find them?"
"I'll know. I've seen them."
He made another face of utterly exaggerated thrill. "And how will we know then, Wendy?"
She hated when he referred to her as the Peter Pan character. But she ignored his goad. "Fang showed me. Now let's get started."
He stopped her again. This time his face was dead serious and he was all business. "Showed you how?"
"In a dream."
That went over like a lead balloon. His eyes snapped fire at her. "Should I be banning you from his room?"
She rolled her eyes at his extremely overprotective nature, which was highly misplaced so long as Fang was in a coma. "Don't be ridiculous and we need to get going. Otherwise I'm going alone."
He curled his lip at her in a fierce grimace. "Fine, you pigheaded bear."
Fang hissed as the demon's blade cut through his side and came out his back. Infuriated, he grabbed the spear and held it in his side with one hand while he rebounded with an upward stroke of his sword that opened the demon's chest.
Screaming out, it died at his feet.
His side throbbing, Fang staggered back, panting from the pain as he wrenched the spear through his tissue and threw it to the ground. Sweat and blood covered him as a chill wind froze his skin and that nasty water lapped at his legs. He was so tired of this place. Of fighting every minute for survival. Part of him was ready to lie down and let them have him, but the other . . .
It didn't know how to give up or give in.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, he lowered the sword he'd taken off another kill and listened to the howling winds that whipped around him. His entire body shook from the cold and agony of his wounds. The storm made it hard to tell if the Harvesters or demons were near and that was the worst part of all.
Twice Misery had stumbled upon him with her crew in tow and while he'd done his best, he had yet to kill that little bitch.
If only he could reach Vane and let him know what was happening. Vane would be a vital ally, but his brother wouldn't believe him. He kept thinking it was a dream or that he was crazy whenever he heard Fang's voice.
Damn you, Vane.
Only Aimee had responded to his call. Only she had believed that the hell he was locked in was real.
Aimee . . .
He sank down by a black tree to rest as an image of her sweet face hung in his mind. He swore he could still smell her. Feel the softness of her skin. And there in the darkness, he found momentary comfort in those thoughts.
Would he ever be able to hold her again?
Gods, to have five minutes where nothing was hunting him, where he wasn't fighting so that he could just hold her close and let her body soothe him.
A screech sounded over his head.
Fang pressed himself closer to the tree as he recognized the Reaper's call. They were taloned and winged demons who would rip apart any creature they found. There was nowhere safe here in this world. Everything was a predator.
Sometimes even the foliage.
But these spindly black trees had proven safe. They alone gave him shelter here. "At least I'm learning to fight as a human." Sickening though it was, he'd become quite accomplished over the months spent here.
Or was it years?