Taming Demons for Beginners (The Guild Codex Demonized #1) - Annette Marie Page 0,61

dizzying stop beside the dumpster.

Zylas flipped onto his feet, red magic spiraling over his arms. He thrust his hands up.

Wings flared wide, Tahēsh plunged out of the sky and slammed into the smaller demon. Red magic rippled out from them like a sonic wave and Zylas buckled under the attack. He rolled clear. As he sidestepped away from his adversary, crimson magic glowed over his hands and extended past his fingertips, forming six-inch-long talons.

Rumbling with amusement, Tahēsh raised his hands and even longer talons of magic sprouted off his thick fingers. “Kirritavh’an Zylas nailēris? Eshanā agrēris.”

Zylas didn’t respond, his eyes glowing and body coiled in readiness. As he faced the winged demon king, I clutched the infernus. Seven feet tall, Tahēsh rippled with bulging muscles, his size magnified by his curved wings and thick tail. And Zylas, facing him, looked like a scrawny adolescent about to take on a wrestling heavyweight.

The two demons stared at each other—then Tahēsh attacked.

Zylas ducked away from the streaking crimson claws. The two demons blurred with speed, Tahēsh striking and slashing while Zylas dodged and retreated. I couldn’t follow their movements—couldn’t tell who was winning and who was losing.

Red power burst off Tahēsh. Zylas slammed into the ground—and the pavement caved under his body. The earth shook from the impact.

For two heart-stopping seconds, Zylas didn’t move. Then he rolled, barely escaping Tahēsh’s downward strike. As he sprang up, Tahēsh’s tail swung around and the bony plate on the end caught Zylas in the stomach.

They blurred again, their slashing, dodging motions interspersed with glimmers of crimson light. Blood sprayed across the ground but I didn’t know whose. Slamming blows, vicious snarls. They broke apart—blood running from deep gashes in Zylas’s upper arm—then clashed again, magic flaring.

Zylas whirled away as the pointed tips of Tahēsh’s talons ripped across his chest. He stumbled, tail lashing, balance lost—and as he faltered, Tahēsh pounced.

My mouth gaped in a silent scream as he slammed Zylas into the pavement.

All sound and movement and magic died. Tahēsh was a dark, motionless shadow, crouched low with his wings arching off his back. Laughing gruffly, he straightened and raised his muscular arm.

Zylas hung from the long crimson claws impaling his stomach. The points protruded from his back, coated in blood. Panting wetly, he clutched Tahēsh’s wrist and crimson power shot across his hands.

Tahēsh roared. Magic exploded in a blinding flare.

A deafening crash boomed beside me. I flinched away as Zylas pitched forward, crumpling to the pavement a foot away. He’d struck the dumpster so violently the metal had split. Garbage fell through the fissure—beer bottles and fast food wrappers and stained cans of spray paint.

Dark, thick blood pooled under Zylas and flowed across his back from the five punctures. He didn’t move except for his rapid, rasping breaths. Tahēsh started toward us, his teeth exposed in a hungry grin.

My mind seized with panic. I had to do something. I had to help.

I grabbed a can of spray paint and shook it as I jumped in front of Zylas. Squeezing the nozzle, I prayed for some small blessing of luck—and blue paint spat from the can. I swept it across the pavement, drawing rushed lines.

Tahēsh stalked closer, taking his time, laughing quietly.

I threw the can aside, grabbed Zylas’s shoulder, and heaved. “Get up! He’s coming! We have to get away!”

Zylas groaned faintly and lifted his head. His eyes, tight with pain, gleamed dimly, and he pushed up on his elbows, blood running everywhere. His arms shook under his weight.

Tahēsh was almost on us.

“Zylas!” I yelled. “You have to protect me! Get up!”

His head turned in my direction, his teeth bared.

Ready? I mentally called to him. His eyes burned in answer and red light lit his hands and feet, veining across his limbs.

Tahēsh’s giant foot crunched on the pavement inches from the drying paint.

“Luce!” I screamed.

The two-foot-wide cantrip I’d painted on the ground blazed as bright as the sun. Tahēsh bellowed, recoiling from the blinding radiance.

Zylas’s arms caught me, crushing me against his chest. Red power flashed and a spell erupted beneath his feet.

We were blasted into the air. The incandescent cantrip and crumpled dumpster shrank as we rocketed five stories above the earth. At the apex of our ascent, we seemed to float on the icy wind—then we began to fall.

I clutched Zylas’s neck as we plummeted toward a rooftop. We slammed down, his feet smashing through concrete, legs bending to absorb the impact. A sound rasped from his throat—part agonized groan, part fierce snarl. Crimson