The Unlikeable Demon Hunter (Nava Katz #1)(27)

I landed on something spongy. Partially eaten corpses. I slid in a nest of bones and decomposing bodies that I couldn't see, but would be able to smell for the rest of my life. It smelled like sulfur and my veggie drawer at home before Mom threw out the broccoli she'd made me promise to eat that I'd let go frothy with mold. Burying my face in my shirt did nothing.

The darkness was so all-encompassing that I started hyperventilating, convinced I couldn't breathe. That did little against the smell and nothing for my dizziness.

The faintest scrape of the demon's talons on bone gave away its position off to my right. Unable to rely on my sight, my hearing was jacked to the point of this merest whisper trumpeting like Dolby surround. 

I pushed forward in the opposite direction, hands outstretched, wishing the dragon had feathered its nest with, well, feathers instead of people. I groped blindly for the chasm's wall, but its slime-covered slickness offered no way out.

The zmey changed position, its weight redistribution shifting this garden of people and causing me to sink. Scrabbling for purchase, I seized a rope, using it to pull myself up those precious inches back to the surface.

Not a rope. A length of sweaty, matted hair. Laughter burst out of me like a hyena, wild and manic.

A hot raspy tongue licked up the side of my arm, cleaning away the blood, silencing me mid-chortle. I blasted the giant evil freak. Even if I killed it, I had no clue how I'd climb out of here, but one danger at a time.

The zmey hissed, a sharp pop of sulphur my one warning that I'd displeased it.

I flung a couple of bodies on top of me. Fire rolled over me, the poor corpses I'd pulled over my head barely keeping me from being toasted like a marshmallow. The heat was of an intensity beyond anything I'd ever experienced. I wriggled deeper down into the nest so my clothes wouldn't melt against my skin. Or my skin melt right off. Even with my lids screwed tight, I'd swear my eyeballs were shriveling up in their sockets like raisins.

Dozens of dead people fingers poked at me, some with fleshy touches, others with boney jabs. My whimpers were audible even over the roar of the flames.

The fire stopped as quickly as it had started, leaving the only sounds my ragged breathing and the demon's nasally snorts.

I pushed the bodies off me. They'd been so toasted that by this point, they were merely person-shaped piles of ash that fell apart, coating me. Popping my head up, I inhaled a lungful of hot foul air but as I did, my coat slipped off my waist. I fumbled for it, frantic, until I was able to snag a fistful of fabric and clutch it to my chest. It wasn't a special coat, and I couldn't say why the thought of losing it filled me with such panic.

How long was I trapped listening to the demon snacking away? A minute? An hour? Long enough for death to howl a lonely dirge in my head. I used to think my death would occur after a long life filled with dance. I wasn't stupid enough to think tap would ever make me rich, but between the odd Broadway show, performing globally in festivals, and teaching, I'd be okay. More than that, I'd be happy. Living my dance dreams, I would have taken on the world and soared.

When all that came crashing down due to my torn Achilles, I imagined my death a lot then, too. Probably why, when I became Rasha, the fatality rate didn't freak me out.

Even so, I'd allowed myself to believe that as a hunter, my death would occur in a moment of badass heroism. Hailed and heralded by fellow Rasha for all time, I'd gone so far as to create the perfect "Nava, You Irreplaceable You" playlist. I'd never imagined my death as the pointless end it now seemed fated to be with my disappearance proving a mystery and my body never being recovered. Coldness seeped into every inch of me. I couldn't stop trembling.

I didn't want to die alone in the dark.

Green light filled my vision, bright and shocking against the utter black as the zmey turned all six of its eyes my way. There was enough light from those gleaming peepers to see the puff of smoke from its nostril flare and the many sharp teeth as it opened its mouth, sucked in a breath and –

I fell onto a thick cream carpet.

It was super plush, so I relaxed on it for a second to catch my breath and decide if I was actually alive or in some afterlife waiting room. I blinked, the room swimming into focus. I lay between a bed and a chair with a tiny side table and standing lamp. A flat screen TV stood on a long table across from the bed. Best of all, there was no stone cavern and no demon.



       
         
       
        

As I struggled to sit up, an invisible force shoved me back onto the ground.

Whoops, spoke too soon.





8





I managed to get off one wild shot at my unseen assailant before my magic sputtered. I didn't feel tapped out. Exhausted, broken, and in desperate need of electrolytes, sure, but my tank wasn't totally empty. I tried to call up my power, but it bubbled up under my skin, and stayed there, trapped. My accelerated Rasha healing abilities may have been working on fixing my hips but they did nothing against this sensation that quickly turned from unpleasant to a torturous searing. Without anywhere to go, magic flooded my nerve endings. A scream tore from my throat and I thrashed against my invisible bindings.