Taming Demons for Beginners (The Guild Codex Demonized #1) - Annette Marie Page 0,69
into the shadowy trees. Tahēsh’s savage laugh floated out of the park, followed by the thud of a heavy body hitting the ground. I peered through the barren branches of a shrub.
Two vehicles were parked on the grass: a black van and an old red sports car, their headlights illuminating the scene. I blinked, then blinked again as though the sight might change if I focused my eyes differently.
The park was full of people and demons—three men in a cluster, one holding a heavy broadsword; two demons battling Tahēsh; and three other guys, one on the ground. The first three men were in mythic combat gear, but the others wore street clothes. They didn’t even have coats. Civilians who’d gotten caught in the fight?
Tahēsh had already hammered one demon into the ground and he spun, slamming his tail into the other.
Zylas let out a vicious chuckle. “Tahēsh is slow. I will tear him into pieces.”
“You can’t use any magic,” I warned him. “There are too many people. You have to pretend you’re enslaved.”
He grunted irritably—annoyed by the reminder and the restriction. Contractors couldn’t wield their demon’s magic, so even a single demonic rune would betray our secret.
The two non-combat guys had grabbed their friend—who seemed to be unconscious—and were heaving him toward the red car. The driver’s door flew open and a redhaired woman leaped out.
“What’s the plan?” I whispered.
“Wait,” Zylas crooned. “Wait for the right moment.”
Tahēsh and the upright demon were locked hand to hand, and the winged beast pushed into the other demon with superior strength.
“Get up!” one of the geared men yelled. “Get up, get up!”
The downed demon twitched pathetically, its tall, lean body gouged with wounds. It was contracted, I realized. Two of those men were contractors and the third was their champion.
The other group had loaded their friend in the car. Were they leaving? Good. The fewer witnesses, the better for—
“Demon magic! Get back!”
At the champion’s bellowed warning, the contractor team scrambled backward. Crimson magic spiraled around Tahēsh, a circle of runes spreading across the grass as he summoned a spell—something that would shred his opponent and the surrounding humans, who were far too slow to get clear.
“Zylas!” I gasped.
He shot out of the trees. As Tahēsh’s spell blazed, the magic seconds from detonating, Zylas streaked between the two vehicles and charged straight for Tahēsh. Reaching the glowing circle, he sprang, twisted, and landed in a backward skid.
His hand dragged across Tahēsh’s spell, red light flaring over his fingers.
With another twist, he leaped away—and Tahēsh’s spell exploded. Red power ballooned outward, throwing all the humans off their feet and hurling the contracted demon to the ground.
With a furious bellow, Tahēsh pivoted, searching for his new opponent.
Zylas paused for the briefest instant, his stare meeting Tahēsh’s, then he streaked past his adversary. The winged demon whirled to follow, his movements markedly slower than they had been in the demons’ last fight.
With a slash of Zylas’s claws, blood spurted from the back of Tahēsh’s thigh. As Tahēsh roared in pain, Zylas leaped onto his back. The much smaller demon rammed his claws between his enemy’s ribs in swift strikes, then sprang away again.
Scarcely breathing, I clutched a tree as Zylas spun around the brutish demon, moving ceaselessly, darting in with tearing claws and jumping clear. Tahēsh turned clumsily, unable to keep up, unable to land a hit.
Dh’ērrenith. Zylas had been right.
Tahēsh’s movements grew more frantic. Roaring again, he swung at Zylas—and missed. Zylas ducked in low and tore out the back of Tahēsh’s knee, and I knew the fight was over.
It took three more gouging strikes for Tahēsh to realize it too. Screeching like a bobcat, he spread his wings and leaped into the air. Zylas looked up, tracking his enemy’s ascent.
No magic, I reminded him with a loud thought.
He coiled his legs, then sprang upward. He slammed into Tahēsh in midair—lithe, agile, deadly. In the darkness, the faintest spark of red magic flickered off Zylas’s hands. Then he and Tahēsh plunged back to the ground—and when they hit the grass, Tahēsh’s head rolled away from his body.
It was over. That fast, that easy.
I understood now what Zylas had meant when he’d said he never lost; he waited for the odds to shift in his favor. But what had shifted the odds so far? In our last encounter, Tahēsh had seemed invincible, but over the last two days, someone had dealt the demon debilitating wounds. Who had injured him? What mythic could have done what Zylas couldn’t?