The Trouble With Demons -- final half of Chapter 1

As promised, the last section of Chapter 1 of The Trouble With Demons (aka the sequel to Armed & Magical.) Enjoy!

The demons charged. We spread out to give ourselves room to fight. I claimed a piece of street with a wall at my back. Better a wall than a demon.

"Want some company?" Phaelan's maniacal grin told me this was the most fun he'd had since last week when he'd helped blast a hole in the elven embassy.

Phaelan wasn't the only one who wanted to keep me company. The demon who'd picked me to pick on was closing distance fast. He didn't have a weapon. Those horns and talon-tipped hands were weapons. When he was within range, I opened up his gut with the tip of my rapier. I expected insides to fall out, not his hand to go into the hole I'd made, making it bigger.

Oh, that wasn't good.

The demon grinned wider and pulled out a fistful of something you'd think he'd need to keep. The stench was all too familiar.

I was almost too disgusted to move. Almost.

The demon flung it right at us.

"Incoming!" I yelled. I ducked and pulled Phaelan with me.

The glob splattered on the wall behind us, sizzling coin-sized holes in the brick. Coin-sized holes that could have been in us. The demon reached in and reloaded.

We weren't going to be here when that hand came out.

Vegard nearly sliced a demon in half with his ax. The demon healed. Immediately. One second he was almost in two parts, then he wasn't. Vegard coolly noted it and put his ax back in its harness. When he'd sheathed his weapon, his hands glowed incandescent white.

Change of tactics. One of the things the Saghred had done was to make me a fast learner when it came to magic. I didn't have to tap the stone, just use the power boost the Saghred had given the abilities I already had, letting me save my skin without risking my soul.

Phaelan was darting and weaving, trying to get in close enough to take out that demon's hands before the demon could take out more ammo.

"What the hell are you doing?" he shouted.

I kept my eyes on Vegard's glowing hands. "Learning."

It was the same concept as a lightglobe, times a thousand. Basic magic, multiplied into something lethal. I looked down at my hands, and concentrated. Considering that two dozen demons had us pinned down, I did my concentrating real quick. I had conjured a respectable flare of light until one of the demons roared.

I damned near jumped out of my skin. "Son of a bitch!"

I tried again, this time through gritted teeth. The teeth gritting must have helped, because in the next instant, I was lobbing fireballs along with Vegard. Mine weren't as big as his and didn't glow as bright, but they made up for it in tenacity. These weren't flames the demons could drop and roll to put out. It was sticking to them--and burning. Saghred-enhanced magic was saving my biscuits once again.

The elven mage was struggling weakly to drag himself out of the middle of the street. A demon blocked his way. He was taller than the others, his skin darker, almost purple. The mage looked up, eyes wide with panic, and said something I couldn't hear.

"Vegard, cover me!" I yelled.

I didn't wait for a response. Rage fed the fireballs in my hands until I could feel the heat. I ran toward the mage, hurling the fireballs at the demon as one clawed hand locked around the mage's throat, claws piercing his flesh, pulling him to his feet and tearing his throat out doing it. The demon simply raised his free hand, and one of my fireballs ricocheted off of it and came right back at me.

I swore and ducked. The fireball hit the wall behind me and burnt straight through the brick. Seconds later, I heard flames crackling from inside the building. Crap.

The demon was staring at me, his eyes yellow with a vertical slit for a pupil, like a goat. But unlike any goat I'd ever seen, the demon's pupils glowed red.

A familiar fire bloomed in the center of my chest. The Saghred. I silently went through a litany of curses. I did not need this now. I braced myself for the surge of Saghred-spawned power that was coming. Power that would consume me, force me to fight it rather than the demon. Power that was going to get me killed just like that mage.

Nothing. No surge, no force, nothing. What the hell?

The demon smiled slowly, the tips of his needle teeth visible. I desperately called my magic for another fireball. Not a spark. All the fire I had seethed in my chest. It wasn't white hot and raging; the stone's power wasn't fighting to get free. It burned bright, warm, welcoming.

For the demon.

The demon looked at me, unclenched his hand, and negligently tossed the dead mage aside. The he stepped back and bowed deeply and respectfully.

"We are honored by your presence," he told me.

Then he cloaked, invisible to all but me, and with one leap was on the wall like a big purple spider, the talons of his claws and feet clicking and gouging chunks out of the bricks as he scuttled around the corner, right over the clueless heads of a crowd that was forming at the end of the street.

I knelt over the mage. His dead eyes stared sightlessly at the sky as blood pooled and spread beneath his ruined throat.

I heard murmurs from the far end of the street. Most of the people had just arrived, waiting until the fight was over to come out of hiding.

I was kneeling over the mage, his blood on my hands. They were looking at me, grim-faced, angry, and accusing.

"Murderer!" someone yelled.

Oh shit.

Coming up next week: A new contest! And an author friend of mine is having a booksigning. Plus, writing & critique groups, music I listen to while writing, how I plot a book, analysis of my query letter for MLTF, and book writing is hard work. Who knew? ; )

Have a great weekend!
Lisa