Damian stood before the demons, his eyes glowing as a long, thin sword appeared in his hands. The blade was vibrant black, and the handle was many colours. He had never imagined Damian to be a colourful guy, based on how his home was decorated, all black and white. “What did you do to Micahel?” he snapped. “What did you do to my friends?”
“The human isn’t in any danger. He is asleep,” the blue-skinned and black-eyed demon rasped, his eyes narrowed on the weapon. “Your friends are fine too. They are asleep. We took their skins. Nothing more. We need you to come with us, that is all.”
Mercy leaned over to Xavier, trying to whisper, but everyone in the room had heard her. “So, knives do work on demons?”
“That’s a sword,” Church deadpanned, elbowing her.
“Why do you need him?” Mint asked,
