Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 130619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
“Ryker is the ash floating around,” he says, indicating his knife. “A gold-lined blade works like Zeus on the lower-level demons.”
“Demons and ash,” I repeat, rejecting this reality despite it being my thought already, but I’m also clearly going crazy. “That’s not possible.”
“And yet, it is,” he says, sheathing the blade in one of his biker boots, which might have been black if not for the ash covering them. “And fuck you, too, sweetheart. I don’t like risking my life and not being appreciated. Today is not the day we die. You don’t get to get me killed. You don’t get to die. So, listen up and listen well. Again, gold kills lower-level demons. It does nothing but give a little tickle to a high-level demon like Jeremy, who doesn’t seem to want to die tonight, either. Nothing in our arsenal is working.”
“What does that mean? What do we do now?”
“We run.”
The Sacred Book of Nephilim
The blood of the mightiest of warriors runs through your body and enlightens your mind. Fight your enemy, not your instincts.
Chapter ten
The man, this stranger my survival seems hinged to, grabs my hand and none too gently tugs me into a run, and I let him. I let him because there is no ice sliding down my spine and no warning bells. That alone wins me over. He’s not like Jeremy or Ryker.
And he knows how to kill demons.
It’s the right move, despite my grandfather’s voice yelling in my head that anyone who seems too good to be true usually is, and I really don’t need him pointing out my potential missteps right now. As an added bonus, the stranger hasn’t killed me and doesn’t seem to have that plan in mind, at least not yet. As far as I’m concerned, he’s my Prince Charming.
We exit to the porch in a gust of wind and snow that I feel all the way down the front of my body, bare skin exposed by way of my ripped shirt. A storm is blowing in that I either didn’t read about or wasn’t predicted, and I fear that storm is Jeremy. As if proving this true, we step to the edge of the porch and are greeted by two yellow-eyed demons charging up the icy steps in front of us. My rescuer shoves me behind him and, with no hesitation, plows a path toward them. I, unfortunately, do not hold my position. My tennis shoes slide along the newly formed ice hidden beneath a patch of fluffy white snow, and I twist about, looking for anything I might grab hold of that is not a yellow-eyed monster.
Considering I all but smack into the wooden banister, I wrap myself around it, trying to halt my plunge down the eight wide steps leading to the yard and the war unfolding. Even then, I slide to the right, then back toward the left, struggling for stability, all the while witnessing the battle between my hero stranger and the demons in complete, utter horror. Whoever this stranger is, he fights like a trained warrior, and I’m thankful for it. If not for him—I don’t want to think about what Ryker would have done to me.
Still clutching the banister for dear life, my gaze lifts and scans, landing in the beam of a motion detector. There, illuminated in the bright light, at least a half-dozen yellow-eyed monsters dot the yard, fighting a handful of leather-clad men while I just stand and watch. I need to help. I need my gun, if bullets even matter at this point, but I have to try.
I rotate to face the cabin, draw in a breath, and push off the banister with a thrust forward meant to be a dash toward the front door. My feet fly upward, and I gasp, bracing myself for the impact that doesn’t come. His arm slides around me, my body anchored to his harder body, and in what feels like the same moment, he throws some sort of gold star, landing it smack in the forehead of a rapidly approaching yellow-eyed monster. And he does all of this without either of us landing on our asses. The yellow-eyed monster—no, demon—the demon fades into ash, puffing all over the pearly white snow.
A rush of bodies gathers in front of us, lining up side-by-side, placing themselves between us and the demons. The stranger, my would-be hero, snatches my hand again and presses a star in my palm. His pale blue eyes are really damn beautiful right about now for no reason other than the fact that they’re not yellow. “Anywhere you pierce their skin pretty much does the trick. But remember, it only works on the lower-level demons.”
“As if I’d know the difference. And I’ve seen their numbers. I’m going to need more gold.”
“I’m running low,” he says, flinging another star without even looking, and I cough as ash puffs into my lungs, which I’m fairly certain means I just inhaled a demon, and I hope like hell it’s not lethal. I’m still trying to recover when a roar of engines sound at the rear of the house. “That would be our ride,” he declares, literally lifting me and setting me down at the bottom of the steps on the walkway. The instant my feet are set, he’s tugging me into motion.