“Now, then, pet, hand over the blood and let’s be done with this.” Abaddon’s smile was chilling.
Darcy glanced to Cailin. Her stark expression told the tale. They were out of options. Hand over the blood and Abaddon would no doubt cut them down. Try to keep it and battle a roomful of demons single-handedly.
They were dead.
“Sorry, Your Majesty,” she said, turning back to the king. “But hunters never yield. I accepted a mission and I will see it through or die trying.”
“Die trying it is,” Abaddon said with a clap of his hands. “Jaral, get my blood for me.”
Darcy inhaled sharply. Nameless demons she could slice through, but her lover?
Jaral strode forward without hesitation. Seeing his determination, she pushed down her shredded heart. Jaral was no easy opponent and she needed to be on her game or he’d crush her in seconds.
Drawing her daggers, she stepped farther into the room to meet him. Cailin kept pace at her side, gun armed and ready.
“Guess you knew we were heading here, right, Jaral?” Darcy said.
“If you had trusted me, Darcy, things might have worked out differently.”
She flinched at her name. It reminded her of the way he’d whispered it in bed.
Flames erupted on his palms, reminding her she’d forfeited her protection from his magic. That fire would burn her just as easily as it would anyone else.
Cailin raised her gun but before she could fire a shot, a new voice broke through their gathering.
“Hold a moment, nephew,” Arawn said. “The hunters are not as outnumbered as you believe.”
Darcy watched as Arawn and Kerilyn strode into the warehouse, spirits at their backs.
“Seriously?” Cailin whispered. “What now?”
“Darcy, you okay?” Kerilyn demanded.
She looked far from the ethereal queen Darcy had met days ago. Now she was dressed as a hunter, her hair pulled back in a tight braid and her clothes dark and formfitting. Knives decorated her body, two finding homes in her hands.
“Fine,” Darcy called. “What side are you on?”
Kerilyn grinned. “Trust me, Arawn and I had quite the chat after we left you. I want this rift closed. Now.”
“And I’d rather avoid drawing the human world into our private war, brother,” Arawn called. “If you’d like to finish what we started in this very warehouse last Halloween, I’m more than happy to humor you.”
Abaddon bared his teeth. “Careful, Arawn. I took your little queen from you once already. I’ll do it again.”
A cool smile twisted Kerilyn’s lips. “Try it.”
“Jaral,” Abaddon ordered, “get that blood. The rest of you, bring me the spirit queen’s head.”
With those words, the world around them erupted into chaos.
Chapter Twelve
Demons rushed forward only to clash against the wave of spirits. For a second everything seemed to move in slow motion. Claws flashed, teeth gnashed. Cailin brushed past Darcy to join the fray and time snapped back into place.
Screams flooded Darcy’s ears and the scent of blood and death assailed her. Gripping her daggers, she surged forward.
Red eyes shone around her as she drove her knives toward any inch of flesh she could see. Within seconds dark blood coated her hands. She fought and ducked, twirling out of the way of black claws. Cailin was lost somewhere in the battle but Darcy didn’t even have time to look around for her friend. Hopefully the hunter knew how to take care of herself.
Pain flared across her shoulder blades and she dropped to the ground, spinning low. The demon who had attacked her screeched in agony as she slashed through its kneecaps. When it crashed to the ground she thrust a knife through its heart. The creature’s death cry was loud in her ears as she surged back to her feet.
Wet drops of blood trickled down her back, seeping through her shirt and plastering it to her skin. Darcy didn’t waste time wondering how bad it was. She needed to get to the rift. If she could just battle her way there, it wouldn’t matter what happened after.
But there was no end to the wave of demons around her. She fought past flying limbs and grasping hands but there was never room to take a breath. Her arms were growing heavy as she fought without any respite. If she stopped, she died.
Something wet ran down her neck and she didn’t know if it was blood or sweat. How badly had she been hurt in this battle? Adrenaline was surging through her veins, giving her power to fight but also masking the extent of her injuries. She needed help. Fast.
Once again, however, it seemed the universe was determined to mock her.
The demons parted to reveal their prince striding toward her.
Darcy’s breath caught at the sight. She’d known Jaral was dangerous but seeing him in the midst of battle, blood covering his broadsword, was far more intimidating than she’d ever imagined. How had she ever thought his man was capable of gentleness?