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)
Her demon wanted to rise. Take over. Attack. Destroy.
You and I have a deal, she psychically reminded it.
It only huffed in response.
Naomi narrowed her eyes as she swept them over the other clerics. “Who are you?”
“Agents of God,” the one on the far right claimed in a gruff voice. Somewhere in his fifties, he appeared to be the eldest of the bunch. “Our brotherhood has done his work for many, many centuries.”
“Well, it’s not really his work, is it? He didn’t tell you to do this; you’re acting of your own accord and you claim it’s the will of God. That’s a little different.”
“Wrong, we are his servants; it is our duty to preserve the greater good,” Gruff Voice piously upheld.
“Is that so?” She flicked a look at his blade. “Where did you all get your swords?”
He frowned. “Why?”
She shrugged. “Just curious. They gleam with a power I don’t think is anything close to pure. Tell me, do they hold the smells of sweat and rot?”
The clerics all stiffened.
“Yeah, that means dark magick is embedded in the blades. I gotta wonder why God’s servants would use anything like that.”
“Nonsense,” Gruff Voice spat. “What you smell is the pain and suffering threaded through the holy blood that blessed the steel.”
Wait, what? “Holy blood?”
“Earth-bound angels may have been called back to their realm, but our savior did not abandon us,” Gruff Voice bragged. “He sent one of his messengers to us; gifted us with weapons. Whoever wields those swords also wields the will of God.”
Naomi blinked. “Hold up, you think—”
“Enough now. It is obvious that you are stalling. Perhaps you think you will be saved.”
Adrian inched up his chin. “That will not happen. Your death is a must.”
Knowing she’d get no more out of them, Naomi gently dropped her purse to the ground. “Shame you feel that way. Well, it’s a shame for you. Because I’m not the one who’ll die here tonight. I lied before. I met your brethren. They actually tried to kill me. They’re all dead now.”
“Who killed them?” Gruff Voice demanded, his voice a whip.
Naomi let her mouth curve. “I did.”
Adrian hissed. “You lie.”
“Nope. And all this is a waste of your time. You misunderstood the prophecy; didn’t translate it correctly.” She switched to the ancient tongue as she quoted, “ ‘For she who bears the mark is the progeny of the devil.’ ”
“ ‘And that child will lead an army of demons’,” Adrian finished, sticking to English.
Naomi paused. “Could you maybe say that part in its original language? Then I can tell you what bits you mistranslated.” They most certainly had not correctly translated it, because she was the child in question, and in no reality would she lead any show of force, let alone a demonic army. She was too damn lazy for that.
The stout cleric beside Adrian looked up at him. “That she is familiar with the prophecy means he got to her first. She could be carrying his spawn as we speak.”
“If you’re talking about Lucifer,” she began, “no way would I ever have his child. You’re wrong in believing that I’ll birth the Antichrist, but I suppose you’re not going to listen to me.”
“You are right, we know better than to take the word of a demon.” Adrian’s jaw tightened. “Where are our brothers’ bodies?”
“Tell me about your monkhood and I will tell you where they’re buried,” said Naomi.
Adrian slipped Gruff Voice a look. “You’re right. She is stalling. Let us end this.” He lifted his sword, his eyes focused on Naomi intently. “It is not your fault that you must die at our hands—you were chosen by Lucifer, not the other way around. As such, I will make this quick and as painless as possible.”
Naomi felt her face harden. “I won’t.” The blistering-hot power awaiting her direction began to boil like water in a pot . . . and then she released it. A red-violet fire roared to life around her, licking at her flesh.
The clerics inched back, turning their heads slightly away from the overly bright flames, their eyes narrowing but not leaving her. Horror and shock danced over their faces, warring for supremacy.
“What are . . . ?” Adrian trailed off, gawking.
Naomi didn’t answer him. Didn’t wait for the Eliouds to make their move. She struck first, throwing up her hands and letting loose rivulets of red-violet liquid fire. They splashed over two clerics, drenching them, burning them, making their skin peel and blister and steam.
Her demon smirked at their screams of agony. The sounds blended with chanting and a battle cry that had her head snapping to the side—just in time for her to see twisting vines of pure-white magick sailing toward her.
Well, shit.
She tried to dodge them. Failed. They slammed into her, zapping every nerve ending like electric jolts.