sharp demonic scent assaulted my senses, and my eyes watered. That must have been some glamour Bran cast to block al this from reaching downstairs. More voices came from the top floor when I reached the landing, but the battle on my left held me transfixed.
It was Exorcist ten times over.
The
possessed
office
workers
were
everywhere—crawling upside down on the ceiling and sideways on wal s, digging holes through the plaster with their bare hands. Men and women pounded on the keyboards, probably stil searching for their precious List. Al wore dark glasses to protect their eyes.
My friends were outnumbered five to one.
Stil , they were in their elements, butting heads, delivering knockout chops and punches Kenta would delivering knockout chops and punches Kenta would have been proud of. They pried open eyelids of the unconscious and squirted piacol into eyes. Two demons shot out from possessed humans and headed straight for the vents. More fol owed.
Knowing what to do now, I pointed the dagger and yel ed, “To Tartarus!”
Streaming light shot from the blade and hit the ceiling. It flowed down the wal s and spread along the floor, giving the room a green tint. The smoke demons smoldered as they came in contact with the glow. Shrieks and bel ows fil ed the air as one-by-one they fel to the floor and beyond.
Everyone froze.
Then the possessed people started for me, the light in the room not affecting them. They growled and gurgled as they attempted to push their way past the Guardians. Even the crawlers on the ceiling and wal s gunned for me. My stomach lurched even as I mental y prepared to fight.
Head downstairs and teleport home, Remy yel ed at me. We have this covered now .
No. I’m through hiding. If demons wanted a piece of me, let them come. I waved a hand and knocked the sunglasses off several faces. They covered their eyes but it was too late. The light in the room redirected into their eyes. Demons shot out of mouths only to ignite.
Remove their glasses, I yel ed to the others, churning the light so it coiled and streaked around the room. A woman in a black pencil skirt broke through the Guardians’ defense and raced toward me, her hand holding her sunglasses in place. As she got closer, I realized the growls she was making were actual y chants.
“Dagger…mine…dagger…mine….”
I slipped the dagger into its sheath, grabbed her arm, and pushed her hard across the narrow hal way. Her head connected with the wal , sunglasses flying from her nose as she crumbled to the floor. As the demon left her, a possessed man landed on my back from the ceiling, taking me down with him.
I tripped over the fal en woman and hit the side of my forehead against the wal . Pain echoed inside my head, and my ribs threatened to cave in under the weight on my back. His breath, hot and foul, bathed my face as he too growled, “Dagger…
mine….”
Next second, he was off me. I rol ed up, and my gaze connected with Kim’s. She whipped him around and kneed him between his legs, a smug grin on her lips. He cupped his crotch and keeled over. Kim glared at me.
Get out of here, she snapped. We can’t finish this while watching your back. Protect yourself and the dagger.
I didn’t argue this time, just jumped up and ran. Outside the battle scene, rage slammed into my psyche. I looked up the stairs, locating its origin.
Bran. Fol owing my gut, I headed up.
The top floor had the executives’ offices, torch sconces on the wal s, cherry wood floors and paneling. I fol owed voices to a slightly opened door.
More opulent décor complete with custom cabinets, leather chairs, and black silk draperies.
I moved closer and heard Bran snarl, “I already promised not to kil you if you let him go.”
“Then we’ve reached a stalemate,” a disembodied feminine voice retorted, but it had a familiar lilt. “I’m not leaving without him. Sending him to Tartarus would be merciful, and he doesn’t deserve any mercy. He
It was Exorcist ten times over.
The
possessed
office
workers
were
everywhere—crawling upside down on the ceiling and sideways on wal s, digging holes through the plaster with their bare hands. Men and women pounded on the keyboards, probably stil searching for their precious List. Al wore dark glasses to protect their eyes.
My friends were outnumbered five to one.
Stil , they were in their elements, butting heads, delivering knockout chops and punches Kenta would delivering knockout chops and punches Kenta would have been proud of. They pried open eyelids of the unconscious and squirted piacol into eyes. Two demons shot out from possessed humans and headed straight for the vents. More fol owed.
Knowing what to do now, I pointed the dagger and yel ed, “To Tartarus!”
Streaming light shot from the blade and hit the ceiling. It flowed down the wal s and spread along the floor, giving the room a green tint. The smoke demons smoldered as they came in contact with the glow. Shrieks and bel ows fil ed the air as one-by-one they fel to the floor and beyond.
Everyone froze.
Then the possessed people started for me, the light in the room not affecting them. They growled and gurgled as they attempted to push their way past the Guardians. Even the crawlers on the ceiling and wal s gunned for me. My stomach lurched even as I mental y prepared to fight.
Head downstairs and teleport home, Remy yel ed at me. We have this covered now .
No. I’m through hiding. If demons wanted a piece of me, let them come. I waved a hand and knocked the sunglasses off several faces. They covered their eyes but it was too late. The light in the room redirected into their eyes. Demons shot out of mouths only to ignite.
Remove their glasses, I yel ed to the others, churning the light so it coiled and streaked around the room. A woman in a black pencil skirt broke through the Guardians’ defense and raced toward me, her hand holding her sunglasses in place. As she got closer, I realized the growls she was making were actual y chants.
“Dagger…mine…dagger…mine….”
I slipped the dagger into its sheath, grabbed her arm, and pushed her hard across the narrow hal way. Her head connected with the wal , sunglasses flying from her nose as she crumbled to the floor. As the demon left her, a possessed man landed on my back from the ceiling, taking me down with him.
I tripped over the fal en woman and hit the side of my forehead against the wal . Pain echoed inside my head, and my ribs threatened to cave in under the weight on my back. His breath, hot and foul, bathed my face as he too growled, “Dagger…
mine….”
Next second, he was off me. I rol ed up, and my gaze connected with Kim’s. She whipped him around and kneed him between his legs, a smug grin on her lips. He cupped his crotch and keeled over. Kim glared at me.
Get out of here, she snapped. We can’t finish this while watching your back. Protect yourself and the dagger.
I didn’t argue this time, just jumped up and ran. Outside the battle scene, rage slammed into my psyche. I looked up the stairs, locating its origin.
Bran. Fol owing my gut, I headed up.
The top floor had the executives’ offices, torch sconces on the wal s, cherry wood floors and paneling. I fol owed voices to a slightly opened door.
More opulent décor complete with custom cabinets, leather chairs, and black silk draperies.
I moved closer and heard Bran snarl, “I already promised not to kil you if you let him go.”
“Then we’ve reached a stalemate,” a disembodied feminine voice retorted, but it had a familiar lilt. “I’m not leaving without him. Sending him to Tartarus would be merciful, and he doesn’t deserve any mercy. He
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