Blood & Bond

By Cody James

Are you still there, reader?

Have you come back to bear witness to the atrocity that is my life?

Before you traveled with me through hell as I trained in the demonic arts. As I found a family. As I was forced to watch countless atrocities. You were there as the seventh seal was broken. Last we met, I was left for dead in the gutter a

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cody James
• Release date: Oct 31, 2024
• ISBN: 9798985478730

Book preview

1

Prologue

His screams fill the air, and his back arches as he tries to crawl away from the pain. I raise my arm; the markings glow a brilliant gold. A high-pitched and ungodly sound slices through reality. He screams once again. His ears leak black ichor, and tears stream down his face. I lower my hand and lean over him, bunching his shirt with my fist.

Are you going to tell me what I want to know? I ask.

I know he can barely hear me, what with his eardrums ruptured. Soon, I’ll have to start on his body.

He grits his teeth and shakes his head. I sigh, rage boiling within me. I lift him up, slam him against the wall and place Corruption at his throat.

TELL ME! I shout as the piercing sound fills the air again. His screams almost drown it out. I push Corruption even closer, drawing even more of his black ichor. You know how to make it end, Orpheus! I snarl. Tell me what I want to know, and I might let you live.

He lets out a shaky, rattling cough. Black drips onto the blade at his throat. He looks at me, fear shining through the tears. Once, it might have made me reconsider. Now, all it does is piss me off even more.

O-okay, he gasps. Just make it stop. He begins to sob, and I let him fall to the ground.

I look disdainfully at the broken heap at my feet.

Tell me, I say again. Tell me how to get back to Hell.

He opens his mouth, and…

Acidic rain is pouring down, soaking me to the bone. Rising mist swallows the trees. I can just make out the spirits swirling inside the bark, discontented and worried. Firelight barely penetrates the thick fog, but the sound of fighting makes it through clearly. Errin, screaming and fighting. Mora’s guttural cries, calling out to the animals of Hell. Addison’s rough chanting as she swings her blade.

My breath comes in ragged gasps, misting in front of my face, and I’m not sure how much longer I can go on. Silver flashes toward me, aiming to kill. I bring Corruption up, turning the strike aside, and I swing the sword in my left hand.

Ozael jumps back, narrowly avoiding the strike. His electric blue eyes, the same that Lucifer once had, stare at me from behind his soaked, snow-white hair. His fine clothes are ripped and a sick, opaque ichor flows from his wounds. His arms are bare, proudly showing his markings, but something’s different. On his left arm, where his angelic markings are, there’s a healed burn of a handprint, ruining them.

He screams, primal, guttural, and rushes me. I bring both blades up, and before he can rid me of my head, fire and moonlight glint off the blade in my left hand. It’s almost a mirror image of Corruption, but where Corruption looks as if it was pulled from the night sky, this one seems pulled straight from the essence of the moon. A graceful shard of metal so purely silver it seems to glow. A stream of light travels along the false edge, and on the fuller, in flowing Enochian script, is the name. Redemption.

The strike hits, and it reverberates through my shoulders and down through my ribs. Our muscles strain, and we both grunt as we try to gain the upper hand.

Ozael leans in closer, his breath smelling of iron. Why? His eyes are wide, crazed, and desperate.

I push against the deadlock. You took something from me, and now, I took something from you. Isn’t that how this works, brother?

Ozael screams, and a wave of energy throws me back. I don’t know how many times I bounce and roll before I slam into a tree. The breath leaves my lungs; bones snap and pop. Stars flicker in my vision as I try to breathe.

Ozael stands over me, a murderous glare in his eyes as he reaches out. The area around me turns gray.

And then…

Smoke fills the air, and craters pockmark the grass. Blood rains down from the torn sky, and before me… an ash tree, older than time, its bark gnarled and knotted. A large slash mars the trunk, and it begins to bleed. Words form in sanguine text.

A child of the light and dark shall wander the world alone,

Cursed to follow the marks where humans first roamed.

The serpent aims to bring the world’s end,

With but one final sacrifice to withstand,

The child’s last breath into fate’s ever-waiting hands

The prophecy becomes jumbled as the words swirl around each other and begin to take new form: A cross, with an ouroboros wrapping around it in a figure eight as a circle locks it in place.

Mad, grating laughter pours from inside the tree, and two ruby eyes appear.

I’ll be seeing you soon, Light and Shadow.

I woke with a strangled shout dying on my tongue as my surroundings came into focus. I was in a small room, on a small cot, beneath a ceiling that dripped like my own personal storm. A worn and beaten guitar was propped in the corner.

Trembling, I got to my feet, trying not to shiver at the dream. It’d been constant since Ozael had broken the Seventh Seal over two months prior. With a shake of my head, I opened the door into the common area, which was thankfully deserted. I didn’t want to deal with anyone just yet.

Torn and damp couches were pushed to the side, along with coolers filled with dwindling supplies. Sigils drawn in chalk spread over the walls, floor, and ceiling. Ancient books and weapons were haphazardly strewn about.

I turned and quietly went up the stairs to the roof. The smell of salt, rain, and ruin greeted me.

What used to be tall and proud white spires and bridges, were now only twisted, ruined forms. Once upon a nightmare, this was my home. Now it was a battlefield. Rain pounded down like judgment while lightning flashed violently, thunder roared, and screams sounded in the distance.

This truly was a forsaken city.

Someone coughed behind me, and I looked toward the sound. A girl, about a year older than me and almost as tall as me stood there. She was wearing torn black jeans, a ratty band T-shirt, Doc Martins, and a leather jacket with spikes and chains on it. On the back of the jacket—my jacket—was the sigil of duality, and slung over her shoulder was her katana, Eclipse. Her shocking green eyes bored directly into mine.

Addison.

I sighed. I should’ve known she’d be awake. I went to her, and we stood in comfortable silence, watching the damned city still in its death throes.

Same nightmare? she asked, finally breaking the silence.

The one where I’m torturing someone? I asked, a little too sharply. She arched a brow, and I took a deep breath. Yeah. It’s the same one every time.

I left out the part about Ozael and the tree. That was new, and I was still trying to figure out what it meant.

Lu, I don’t think it’s just a dream anymore.

A cold dread settled over me.

What do you think it is, Addie? I asked, raking my hand through my hair, already fearing her answer.

I think you’re seeing a glimpse of the future, she said quietly.

I sighed. I’d known she was going to say that. Ever since she rescued me from my second death, I’d been haunted by dreams of blood. Visions of death and gore.

If it really is, I said, looking back to the once beautiful city, then so be it.

Addison said nothing, just placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently before she left. The door closed as another flash of lightning illuminated the world. The thunder shook the roof.

Are you still there, reader? Have you come back to bear witness to the atrocity that is my life? Before, you traveled with me through Hell as I trained in the demonic arts. As I found a family. As I fell for the Devil’s daughter. You read as I was forced to watch my best friend’s beheading, and as my long-lost brother killed Lucifer, the deity I’d come to see as a father. You were there when Ozael broke the Seventh Seal and unleashed Armageddon.

Now Heaven and Hell are at war, as was foretold countless millennia ago, and Heaven is losing. The humans, caught in the middle, are dying off as their cities are ravaged. Cults spread like wildfire. There are mass suicides and massacres unlike the world had ever seen, in the name of the end days.

In the name of Ozael.

In the name of God.

With the power of Ahriman and the ichor of Lucifer running through his veins, there was no stopping Ozael on his conquest. It wouldn’t be long before his rule was absolute.

As a Nephilim, the offspring of a cursed union between the two warring races, where do I fall? On Hell’s side, with the bastard Ozael, my brother? Or on Heaven’s, with the mother who cast me out onto the streets? Or in the middle, with a ragtag group of Hell chasers named Addison, Gaige, Milo, Cole and Malcolm?

All I know is that ever since I was even conceived, my fate has never been my own. No, it’s been to fulfill a prophecy that I hate with my very being. But not anymore. I’m taking my fate into my own hands. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know my direction. I’m going to find a way back to Hell, to rescue Errin and Mora, and kill my brother.

I warned you once before, this tale is not a happy one. And it’s only going to get worse.

Part One

2

Obligatory Dramatis Personae

I knew Milo was talking, but his voice faded into white noise as I watched Addison and Gaige spar. They struck and parried in an elegant display of controlled violence. Sunlight filtered through the shredded curtains and glinted off their swords. The clash of metal rang out in the enclosed area.

Addison held Eclipse with the calm familiarity of a master swordsman, while Gaige wielded two short swords. Sweat dripped down her temple, and her blue hair was stuck to her forehead. Half of her head was shaved, snakebite piercings went through her bottom lip and large tapers through her ears, and a half sleeve of tattoos crept up her left arm. She was sidestepping and lunging, attempting a hit-and-run tactic.

With a growl, Addison spun to the side and sliced. A neat gash opened on Gaige’s leg, and she limped backward.

Goddammit, I’m gonna have to patch that up, Cole said with a sigh.

I turned on my stool to face him. At six and a half feet, he was the tallest of us, and packed with the muscle only a Russian heritage could supply. He sported a buzz cut, and even though we were in the middle of the apocalypse, he was always smiling. He reached down, grabbed his kit, and brought out gauze and several pagan amulets strung on leather cords.

See, reader, Cole was our medic. He was a nursing student at the University of Washington, Lumen City—well, that is, until Ozael happened. Big as he was, I’d expected Cole to be a tank on the front lines. But nope. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. Gentle giant and whatnot.

Oh, shut it, Cole! You know she’ll heal faster than you can patch it up, Milo said from behind me. If I wasn’t mistaken, he was rolling his eyes.

I glanced back at him.

Milo was behind the island we were seated at, rummaging through our meager supplies for something to cook. He popped his head up and gave me a cockeyed grin. His skin was a deep olive, and his hair was jet black and spikey. He had numerous piercings through his ears and eyebrows and one through his lip. Wash off the grit of war, and he would have been handsome. From what he and Cole had told me about their days as roommates, he used to be a real heartbreaker before all this.

He held up an apple. Want a bite?

I shook my head, and a battle cry made me turn around. Addison’s blade descended upon Gaige, but right before it could cut her arm off, an inky black shield manifested around Gaige. It swirled and bubbled and cracked until the semblance of a demon stood behind her.

He seemed made of equal parts onyx and smoke. He towered above and behind Gaige, and his horns curved up and over his head. Orange eyes peered from behind the smoke, and he cracked a grin showing his yellowed, wolflike teeth. Volch. He grabbed Addison’s blade and shoved her back.

While they sparred, I turned back to Milo. You know, you never really explained how Gaige and Volch were bound. I mean I saw him… I trailed off.

The memory of Ozael’s sword buried in Volch’s chest would be forever burned into my mind.

Milo shrugged and took a bite of his apple. Apparently she had a bad run-in with a demon ’bout three years ago. It was just after Volch had been talking to them, and when he bit it around the same time, Malcolm managed to pull him outta the Pitch. Next thing ya know, Volch is part of our little dysfunctional family. Ain’t that right, Cole?

That about covers it. Lord knows I wasn’t able to patch that much damage up.

I shook my head in disbelief and looked over at the drunken heap sprawled out on one of the couches in the corner. He was in his forties, his hair starting to turn to gray. A weeks’ worth of stubble was on his face, and bottles littered the ground beside him. I still couldn’t believe that this man—a mortal man, mind you— had enough power to pull a demon from the Pitch.

Reader, let me introduce you to Malcolm Leighton, professional Hell chaser, alcoholic, and Addison’s adoptive father.

He pushed himself up with some difficulty, cracked his neck, and started blinking rapidly, trying to focus on something. He stretched and reached over the couch, grabbing a half empty bottle of whiskey. He pulled the cap off and stood up while taking a heavy drink.

Addison furrowed her brow. It’s eleven a.m., Malcolm.

Gaige just sighed and shook her head as he shuffled past them and began to rummage through one of the coolers.

Milo whistled behind me. That man fears absolutely nothing

Addison shook her head and went to the roof.

Milo, I know you’re new to this, Malcolm grunted, his rough voice like rock salt. But the only time I’m not drinking is when I’m sleeping or dead. So, fuck off.

Milo paled and shifted his gaze. Gaige, although in a conversation with Volch, was looking sadly at Malcolm.

While Malcolm was busy drowning in a bottle, everyone else went about his or her own business. Cole took inventory of his medical supplies, Milo went off to the makeshift forge in the corner, and Gaige flipped through ancient texts.

I went to the roof after Addison. The day was surprisingly sunny and warm, a far cry from the violent storm the night before. The city still smelled of salt and ruin, but the smoke wasn’t as acrid.

You okay? I asked, sitting down next to her and letting my legs dangle over the ten-story drop.

This place used to be a penthouse that Malcolm managed, but with the original occupants dead or fled, we’d taken up residence. Rickety bridges stretched over the drop to neighboring roofs.

Addison shrugged.

He’s drinking more than usual, she said, still not looking at me.

I nodded, and we sat there in companionable silence, letting the breeze blow past us.

You know, she said eventually, this kind of reminds me of… Never mind.

What? I nudged her, and a small grin crept up on her face.

It kind of reminds me of the days when we’d sneak off from the home and explore.

I let out a dry chuckle. We’d been at the same foster home: Father Francis’s Foster Home for Wayward Souls. It was how we’d met. On days like this, when the sun was out and the smell of salt hung in the air, we’d sneak off and explore. The city had been our playground.

They were some of the only times my life hadn’t seemed that terrible.

I was about to agree, when a cacophonous boom rang out through the city. Smoke shot into the sky, and flames licked at the already scorched buildings.

We stood up in alarm; Addison already had her katana drawn.

That’s from Central, she said.

The door behind us slammed open. We spun around, and Gaige was there, plates of smoke and onyx armor covering her vital spots. Volch stood behind her, glaring at the plume of smoke in the sky.

Shit, that’s past the boundary, isn’t it? Gaige asked.

Addison nodded grimly. Volch cracked his neck, and even though he wore a grimace, some sort of demonic excitement burned in his eyes. I knew the look; every demon gets it before something violent happens. I’m sure the exact same excitement was mirrored in my eyes as well.

It made me sick to my stomach. Even though I’d accepted what I was, I was still caught in a balancing act between my demonic and angelic sides. The demon in me could smell the iron in the air, that acrid tinge, the electricity of approaching bloodshed. My fingers started to twitch.

You can feel it, can’t you? Volch asked. His voice was raspy, and it had lost that easy-going nature.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I was rooted in place, trying to wrestle that demonic urge down. My heart beat faster and faster.

Lu. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and Addison was there. I took a deep breath, and the urge passed.

You can stay back if you’re not ready, Addison said.

I’m fine, I lied.

She frowned, but before she could call me on my bullshit, the door behind us burst open again. No longer looking like an alcoholic mess, Malcolm stood tall and proud in army fatigues and a flak jacket with extra ammo. He held a .454 Magnum revolver in his hand. He tossed me some homemade armor: a black, long-sleeved shirt with plates sewn into the fabric for protection. There was a big plate over my chest, two small ones on my ribs, some on my arms, and more over vital points in my back.

Behind him, Milo and a reluctant Cole followed out the door. Milo wore armor like mine, and he held and a simple M1911 and an alligator machete with all sorts of pagan runes etched into it.

And Cole? He was shifting on his feet, pale, and clearing his throat nervously. His hand was absent-mindedly rummaging through his pack.

Malcolm stopped grinding his teeth and took a deep breath, straightening his back. Gone was the miserable drunk; in his place stood a general. He wasted no time taking charge and shoving out orders.

Gaige, Volch, Milo, and I will take to the streets, he said, turning to us. You two, take to the sky and hit them from above.

I ground my teeth, and my nails dug into my palms.

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. Got something to say, Lucis?

My eye twitched. God, I hated that name, and he knew it too. I also hated being ordered around by a drunk.

Thankfully, Addison yanked me by the arm and off the roof.

3

World War Now

The wind rushed past me, and I let gravity pull me to the earth. I pushed my shoulders together and manifested my wings, and as I caught an updraft, I let a small smile creep onto my lips. I quickly caught up and leveled with Addison. Her wings were white and impossibly bright, and she looked perfectly content.

You know, I’m still getting over the fact you can fly! I shouted over the wind.

We’re in the middle of a war between Heaven and Hell, you’re a Nephilim, I’m a Primordial, and it’s the wings that get you? she retorted.

Your choice in sword got me too!

Addison shrugged, making her wobble a little, and she let out a humorless laugh. It was the only one I had left after all Hell literally broke loose.

The city rushed below us, an intricate labyrinth of canals, bridges and walkways. There was no dry land in Lumen. It all rested above the water. When Ozael kicked off the apocalypse, major parts of the city were destroyed, including large chunks of the canals. Only parts of the city still had streets. So, in response to that, the humans had made rickety bridges dozens of stories above what used to be street level.

You humans are nothing if not resourceful and stubborn.

All too soon, the fetid stench of war assaulted us: gunpowder, burning rubber, soot, ash, and the unmistakable sickly sweetness of decaying bodies. My stomach churned as the putrid scent forced its way into my lungs. We landed on a building overlooking the battle.

Gunshots rang out, civilians screamed, and the demonic legion roared in response. Flashes of light and fire erupted across the bridge as demons and angels fought their bloody fight. Ichor, both black and silver, was spattered across the bridge. A Behemoth lay dead in the waves, its molten blood steaming in the cold water.

The humans were trying to a hold the bridge that connected the two districts of the city, and the demons were choked on the massive bridge. See, Lumen is made up of seven islands, or districts, connected by bridges. We were on the biggest, District One, or as it was known before, Central. The demons held more than half the city and were gaining more confidence with each day.

The remaining military had set up barricades in front of the bridge and were pumping round after round into the horde. But, if you hadn’t noticed, demons are notoriously hard to kill. A few bullets won’t do anything other than piss a demon off. But the military hadn’t seemed to get the fucking memo. Anyway, the military was part veterans, part civilian volunteers, and part Hell chasers. To my utter disbelief, Malcolm was a general. No shit.

I scanned the battle, bile forcing its way up my throat with every spray of red and every scream. I reached out and grasped the air. I closed my hand around the hilt of my sword and brought it to this plane of existence.

Shadowfire erupted from my palm and formed an elegant single-edged blade that held a slight curve, made from a shard of metal so black it sucked in the light around it, filled with tiny pinpricks like a constellation of stars. The hilt was wrapped in red leather, beneath a guard the color of molten gold. The pommel was set with a crimson jewel. A stream of black energy traveled along the false edge. Jagged and angular Enochian runes ran along the fuller of the blade.

Corruption.

A blade forged in the fires of Hell and baptized in the ichor of countless angels. The same blade the Archdemon Akaleus, my father, had wielded.

Beside me, Addison had Eclipse drawn. Are you ready? she asked.

No, I responded truthfully. But it isn’t about me, Addie.

I turned back to the battle, toward the throbbing mass of red bodies. Wrath demons, about to overwhelm the human populace. A part of me wanted to ignore the battle, to circle around and try to find one of their Hellgates.

Since Ozael took his place as King of Hell, any way in or out of Hell had been kept under lock and key. Only certain demons could open the Hellgates. They were my only chance of getting back to Hell and saving Errin and Mora.

If they were still alive.

I shook my head. Of course they were still alive. I had to believe that.

But as much as I wanted to abandon the humans to their extinction, something held me in place. Maybe it was pity. Maybe it was Addison.

As I scanned the battle, I caught sight of a familiar Wrath demon. No matter how much muscle he packed on or how ferocious he became, I still saw the same putrid Wrathling I’d become a squire alongside. Boris. He was leading the charge, his body covered in straps of Behemoth leather and his arm swinging a massive sword with insulting ease. Even though we were a block away and dozens of stories up, I could make out the large pendant with gold and obsidian inlays dangling from his neck.

Ozael had made him Duke of the Wrath District. Figures. He was always a sycophant.

Got a plan? Addison asked. Or are you trying to see if you have some sort of flesh-eating, death stare? She poked my ribs, a rare smile on her lips. How she stayed so sarcastic was beyond me.

That sounds nice right about now, I responded, shaking my head. I pointed toward Boris. He’s the Duke of the Wrath District.

Ooohh. Her eyebrow arched. We take him out, the rest follow.

I flinched, and a lump grew in my throat.

She placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. You don’t need to kill. You know that, right?

I took a deep breath and nodded. The lump disappeared, and I caught sight of something else amidst the battle. Two angels stood out among the host. The first looked young for an angel, her brown hair cut short. She wielded a bow I was unfortunately very familiar with. My shoulder still ached where she had shot me with three of her crystalline arrows. Zophiel. Her wings were drawn back and fluttered with every arrow she loosed.

The second I had only seen in person once before. Her moonlight-silver hair hung freely, framing her strong features. Her golden armor glinted in the sunlight and was spattered with black. Her six wings were drawn behind her, beating furiously as she swung her silver sword. Light spewed forth from her outstretched palm, turning some of the weaker demons into dust. The Archangel Uriel. My mother.

Is that…? Addison asked, pointing toward the two angels.

My mother and her sister, I confirmed.

Well then. Addison cracked her neck. Let’s go pay them a visit.

She leapt off the roof before I could respond. She manifested her wings and barreled headfirst into the battle. As I stared after her, a simple phrase painted onto the side of a building caught my attention.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

I sighed as I stepped off the roof and followed her. I glided over the mass of writhing bodies and let myself free fall the last fifteen feet. I rolled as I landed, and I brought Corruption up to defend me.

The stench was worse in the thick of it. It assaulted my senses, and the battle was so packed I didn’t know what direction any particular blow was coming from. Something sliced my calf, and I went down on one knee. An attack hit one of the plates on my back. Blows rained down on me, finding weak points in my armor. Blood trickled down my body. Gritting my teeth, I reached out, and a cold power swirled around me. There was a faint tug in my stomach. Umbramancy. The power to control shadows.

I screamed as I called upon the shadows. They replied by erupting outward like a wave. I pushed myself to my feet and took in my surroundings, immediately starting to shake. There was so much blood, mixing and pooling with the ichor of demons and angels alike. Bodies were strewn about, twisted and broken. Their lifeless eyes stared into the depths of my soul.

An arrow whizzed past me and directly into the eye of a demon. In my daze, I’d forgotten the battle surrounding me, and the demon had had it in his mind to stab me in the back. I looked back at the crystalline arrow that had popped his soulless black eye. I still had shards of a matching arrow embedded in my shoulder.

Lucis!

I looked up and was greeted by Zophiel. She was covered in soot and ichor but didn’t seem the least bit out of breath. Past her, I saw Addison, gliding around her opponents with carefree ease and precision. I instantly snapped back to myself—now wasn’t the time to get distracted.

Zophiel, I replied as I brought up Corruption to block a strike and she sent another arrow into the demon.

Took you long enough to find us, she said.

I didn’t respond as I parried another blow, whipped around, and struck the demon on the side of the head with the pommel of my sword. My heart beat faster and faster, adrenaline coursing through my veins, numbing me.

A flash of light disintegrated a demon to my right, and Uriel was there with her sword buried in the chest of a Wrath demoness. The demoness coughed up ichor and pawed at the sword stuck in her sternum. Uriel yanked her blade back, and the demoness fell to the ground, dead.

Uriel looked up and gave me a tired smile. Behind her, a Gluttony demon charged, his fat and sickly orange body jiggling as he raised his battle-axe and prepared to bring it down upon her. Without thinking, Uriel and I slipped past each other. I dropped down and swung my foot under the Glutton. The cement cracked under his weight. Before he could get back up, I sent the guard of my sword into his forehead.

I turned around to see Uriel finishing off a Pride demon.

You finally found us. It’s high time you followed the marks, she said, as she flicked her blade to the side, ridding it of Ichor.

I still have no idea what that means, I said.

Uriel grimaced. There is much I still have to teach you.

She had barely finished the sentence when a Wrath demon charged. She slipped to the side and rid him of his head. As it fell, I noticed her blade. It looked like Corruption’s angelic twin. The pommel held a gold jewel, and a stream of light ran along the false edge. Along the fuller, in flowing Enochian script, was the name Redemption. Bile forced its way up my throat, and I started to shake.

Looks like we have more pressing matters, I said, blocking another blow. We stood back-to-back, taking in the carnage around us. Gunshots rang out, and the stench of sulfur hung heavy in the air.

Got a plan? I shouted over my shoulder.

I felt her nodding. Find their leader and take him out.

I tapped her shoulder, and as she spun around, I pointed to Boris, his sword held high.

That putrid thing is the Duke of the Wrath District? she asked incredulously.

To be fair, the next in line was killed by Addison.

She nodded in slight understanding, giving me a questioning look as to who Addison was. Well, let’s plan our attack… carefully.

Uriel started going over her strategy, but her voice faded into the background as I saw something that made time slow down. Someone was cowering before Boris as he brought his sword down.

Close-cropped black hair, a swimmer’s build, and hazel eyes.

Zeke, I whispered.

4

An Old Acquaintance

Before I knew it, I had materialized through the shadows and brought Corruption up just in time to meet Boris’s blow. The impact reverberated through my arms and jarred my shoulders in their sockets. The force lessened, and I looked up to see a very confused Boris. But his confusion was soon replaced a sick cockiness.

I was wondering when you were going to show up, he said, stepping back. I risked a look back, and my heart sank. The person I’d saved wasn’t Zeke. It was a kid. But he looked just like him: same eyes, same hair, same facial features. He wasn’t the best friend that I’d lost, but he was a life that I could save.

Run, kid! I said through gritted teeth. He nodded quickly and shakily started to run.

I stepped forward. Boris lunged, bringing his sword down. Our blades met and sparks flew. We disengaged and clashed again, sending more sparks flying.

He lunged again, and my thoughts traveled back to what Mora taught me about Wrath demons—all brawn and no brain. I sidestepped and sent a wave of fire out from my outstretched palm. The force of the blast knocked him back, but as he stood, he began to laugh.

You know, he said between howls of laughter, I really gotta thank you.

I paused. For what, exactly?

He gave me a weird look, one that said are you kidding me? Everything I have now is because of you. You kill Gremen—BAM! I’m squire to the Duke of the Wrath District. Ozael kills Lucifer, and you kill Nemet, promoting me to duke. I really do have to thank you. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be where I’m at today.

He leapt toward me, swinging his blade. On instinct, I braced my arm on the false edge of my sword and brought it up, blocking his strike. The force of it was enough to push