DAUGHTER OF DARKNESS

2

“I know, I know,” Ryder said.

I let out a sigh. “All right, you’re here for your f*****g report, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but—”

“There’s nothing new to report,” I snapped. “Nothing has changed. I haven’t seen anything, felt anything, found out anything. This shitty little town is boring and not even on a map or GPS. Not even lesser demons come here. To be honest, being here feels like another punishment from the gods.”

“You know it’s not like that. If they wanted you to suffer, they would have let you rot in hell.”

I winced. We both knew warriors didn’t rot, which meant I could have spent eternity suffering in hell if the gods wanted me to. “But pulling me out of the underworld nineteen years ago and abandoning me in this place without as much as an instruction of what I should be doing is much better.”

“At least you’re not being tortur—” Ryder’s words died when I shot him a glare. “Besides, they did give you instructions. Fix what went wrong and don’t fail this time.”

The problem was: What had gone wrong? How had I failed? What mission was it? The not-so-merciful gods erased all my memories related to that failed mission when they pulled me out of hell. I didn’t remember a single moment, a single action. I barely knew when it had been and where.

Not that it helped knowing when and where. It wasn’t as if a warrior’s mission history was available in a book or on a computer.

But the warrior standing in front of me knew. He knew all about that f*****g mission, but he couldn’t tell me. The gods forbade the other warriors from helping me.

“That’s my report,” I said, my tone harsh. “Come back in five years. I’m sure nothing will have changed by then.”

I spun around and marched away.

“Devon, don’t be like that.”

I had every intention of ignoring Ryder, but when a chill brushed against my skin, sending a disturbance through the air, I halted and glanced over my shoulder. “Did you feel that?”

Ryder drew out his sword. “I did.”

The chill spread, bringing heavy, oily tendrils of darkness.

“Demons,” I whispered.

In the blink of an eye, my normal human clothes—dark jeans and polo shirt—were gone, replaced by the warrior’s thick dark leather armor, and my sword strapped to my back.

With cautious steps, Ryder and I stalked back to the main square. The darkness was thick and coming toward us.

Ryder twirled his sword in his hand. “Be ready.”

I unsheathed my sword.

Half a second later, the little fuckers jumped from the shadows, right at us. Dozens of lesser demons in the form of black shadow snakes. Some were as small as my forearm; some were as long six feet.

I swung my sword in a wide arc, hitting most of them in a single blow. The snakes exploded in puffs of dark smoke that dissolved in the night sky. A few more slithered from the shadows, coming at us from the ground. They hissed their forked tongues, as if teasing us.

All I wanted to do was stomp on them and be done with it. Killing them with swords while they slithered along the ground wasn’t the most practical fight. “I hate these things.”

“Me too,” Ryder said, and he drove his sword to the ground, piercing through the head of a snake. “But at least they are the lowest of the low.”

True. Of all the demons that existed, the snakes were the weakest.

One of the snakes lunged at me, mouth open wide and sharp teeth ready. I waltzed to the side, then stepped over its slimy body and cut off its head. It burst into smoke at my feet.

I looked up, ready to s***h through some more, but all I felt was the darkness retreating.

I fixed a narrow gaze on Ryder. “What the f**k was that?”

“I don’t know.” Ryder’s eyes scanned the area, as if expecting another surprise attack. “It wasn’t normal.”

I nodded. I had been in this town for almost two years now and I had never encountered any demons. Not even shadow snakes. They were weak and drawn to evil and dark places, like the alley of a bad neighborhood in a big city. They stuck to the shadows until the humans came near them and became their victims. “Snake-type demons don’t attack like that.”

Ryder sheathed his sword. “No, they don’t.”

The pressure and chill of the darkness dissipated, but a stifling feeling hung in the air. I didn’t like it. “Something is definitely wrong.”

Makenna

It didn’t matter how far we ran or how fast we ran, he always found us. He would always find us. I knew that as strongly as my heart beat painfully against my chest.

I spied past the thick dark green curtain into the parking lot below. I had argued against staying at roadside motels, and Cecilia never listened to me.

“Stop obsessing, Makenna,” Cecilia said, her tone too light for the occasion. “We need a good night's sleep. Just … stop, and come rest.”

I glanced over my shoulder and saw her fluffing the pillows on one of the queen beds.

Was this the life she intended for us when we ran away? That I intended for us? We had been running and hiding nonstop for almost two years, and each time we settled for more than half a day, he found us.

I couldn’t deny it was better than suffering at his hands, doing his bidding without a choice, but I was so freaking tired of running. My only options were to suffer or to run. Sometimes, only sometimes, I wondered if I wasn’t better off dead.

Last time we stopped for more than twelve hours, he had found us. We had to fight our way out. We had to kill.