Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
The heat radiating from it was blistering—waves of it danced in the air. Needing a reprieve, he shed his suit jacket and tossed it on the ground.
More flames burst out of the entity—some slicing clean through bodies to cleave them in half, others snatching them off their feet and throwing them into the rays of near-blinding light still at its back.
No, not rays of light, he realized, his lips parting. Flames.
The flames of hell.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
“What?” asked Nikandr, swiping his palm over his face to wipe away the layers of dust there.
“A portal,” said Luka. “Her entity has opened a fucking portal to hell.”
“It what?”
Some clerics twisted to attack the demon, but the red-violet flames surrounding it seemed to take the edge off the impact of their blows, because it showed no signs of pain. On the contrary, it—
A heavy gust of magick punched Luka right in the solar plexus, sending the breath gushing out of his lungs. A second gust headed his way, pissing him off. He telekinetically deflected the magickal strike, retaliating with a telekinetic punch that made the cleric’s head snap back so violently it broke his neck.
As the dead body slumped to the ground, Luka hurled an orb of hellfire at an approaching cleric. But the Elioud tripped over a clump of aloe spears, causing the orb to miss him. It collided with the branch of an acacia tree instead, setting it alight.
Once the cleric stood, Luka struck out again, using a harsh blast of telekinesis. The Elioud almost folded in half with the impact as he zoomed backward into a large rock formation, smacking his skull hard.
“Her demon’s just toying with them really, isn’t it?” It was a realization from Nikandr, not a question. “If it had wanted to, it could have wiped them out fast. It wants to feed on their terror and pain, not merely watch them die.”
Luka sighed, using the heel of his palm to rub away grit from the corner of his eye. “Something like that.”
Twisting vines of magick rushed at him from another angle, the pain like the stabbing of scalding-hot razor-sharp blades. Hissing, he telekinetically plucked his attacker off the ground and threw him at a tight cluster of his brothers, knocking two down. He then launched a hellfire grenade at the small group, taking them all out at once.
Again he stole a moment to check on Naomi. There. Her entity was closer now, and he could better see the portal behind it. A hellish background of shimmering fire, crimson skies, and scorched land. The relentless heat made sweat dot his skin.
His attention was snagged by a new presence not far from the entity—a figure engulfed in ultraviolet flames. It wasn’t attacking Naomi’s demon; no, it was aiding it, lashing out with whips of ultraviolet fire that wrenched agonizing screams out of its victims. Any time said whips missed their target and smacked the ground, they sent a brief tremor through it.
Mikhail frowned. “Is that . . . is that Lucifer?”
It would appear so. “He lives in hell, so he wasn’t likely to miss a portal opening.” Or to sit out a battle that involved his daughter.
“I guess he wanted in on the fun,” said Mikhail with a loose shrug.
Luka’s demons desperately wanted to surface and have their own fun, but he couldn’t trust that they wouldn’t attempt to get to Naomi, arrogantly sure that their mate would never harm them even in such a fury. He also didn’t trust that they wouldn’t wander into the portal out of morbid curiosity—they were easily distracted by shiny things.
Noticing a hoop of magick heading right for him, Luka jerked aside before it could hook around his neck. He was about to take his attacker out, but Nikandr did the job for him, lancing a beam of hellfire through the cleric’s body.
Luka gave his bodyguard a curt nod of thanks. It was only a moment later that another cleric conjured an orb of magick and pitched it at him. He dodged it and retaliated with a telekinetic wave that sent his attacker crashing into a withered tree. There was a loud crack as splits spiderwebbed through the trunk. The Elioud hit the uneven ground hard, making a cloud of dust fly up.
There weren’t many clerics left, he quickly realized. A barrage of hellfire, holy magick, psychic hits, and telekinetic power still flew back and forth, but most blows were demonic in nature at this point.
“We need to back up some,” announced Tobe loudly. “We don’t want to be too close to the last of these clerics when Naomi’s demon and Lou target them. We could get caught in the crossfire.”
“He’s right,” said Jolene. “Start retreating.”
They all did exactly that, watching as father and daughter—both looking like walking flaming torches—stalked after the remaining clerics. Some Eliouds hid, some tried fleeing, and the rest fought back.