Magick Rising (10 page)

“Behind you,” Hadrian called before a demon cloaked in fire leapt at

him.

Miko called on her years of training with her uncle and other
sensei
, and

she flowed into her center. As if she could sense the attack before it

happened, Miko crouched, spun, and grabbed a three-headed demon by the

neck and sent it tumbling. A roundhouse kick broke the clicking mandibles

of a demon that looked like man-sized ant. Its roar of pain drowned out her

kiai
yell as she rolled and jerked up sharply under the chin of one of the three

heads of the first demon.

Its other two heads fixed her with bloody eyes. Spittle flew as it began

intoning what sounded like an incantation in some vaguely Arabic-sounding

language.

Great. Not only are demons real, but they can hex you.

“I don’t understand a word you’re saying,” she taunted, casting about

for something to take out this thing for good. She grabbed a trident from the

ground, now slippery with gore. “Doesn’t matter.” She lunged low, bringing

the weapon up through the stomach, into the heart, taking out its
crasboethiad

along the way.

“Bring the female to me.” Shit, Appoloin had noticed her.

Hadrian, less than ten feet away, hacked at the demons that separated

them and yelled, “Get out of here, Miko!”

“Not”—she leaped high over the back of something with one eye and a

mace—”going to happen.”

She had a mere second to wonder at the height of that leap before a

two-headed dog beast cut off retreat. Even if she had wanted to run, two

other monsters attacked her at the same time from the each side. A zombie

thing with too many arms pinned her against its chest, lifting her off her feet

while another disarmed her. Deprived of a weapon, she lost her center and

fear swamped her. She writhed and kicked but couldn’t connect with any

force.

Judging by the screams, Hadrian had increased the pace of his attacks,

but he was on his own again. Hadrian called her name. A little closer. At

what cost? How long could he hold out?

With a jolt, her captor tossed her at the Demon Lord’s feet, and she got

a really good look as he peered down at her. Eyes lit with what had to be

hellfire met hers. Pain—hot and raw—lanced through her brain, ripping a

scream from deep within.

His claws sank into her ribcage, tearing muscle and injecting searing

acid. Each movement, each heartbeat awakened her senses to new agony.

She screamed until she screamed blood. She battled to remain conscious,

seeking within for the quiet, the source Nic had taught her. But her center

eluded her.

“Behold, Hunter. I have your female.”

Miko turned her head toward Hadrian, her shriek of pain lost in the

cacophony of demon noises. The demon horde parted, giving their master

room to maneuver, providing an unobstructed view for Hadrian.

He swept his weapons in deadly arcs even as those closest to him

backed away. “Put her down, Appoloin. I am the one you want.”

“She has killed my followers. For that she must pay.”

More of her skin and muscle shredded as his claws dug deeper to bring

her face to his. Demon stench gagged her. She spit at him. Clichéd but what

the hell.

He sniffed her. Brimstone and the gagging reek of burnt flesh filled her

mouth with bile.

“I thought the Warrior Sin unique among those who hunt my kind, but

you smell of him.” He arranged her as a shield for his
crasboethiad
and turned

his attention back to Hadrian. “It matters not. Surrender, Hunter, or she

dies.”

Even from this distance, she could see Hadrian falter. He lowered the

tip of his sword. Azrael said something that he shook off.

“Come and get
me
, Appoloin. Fight
me
. Let her go.” He hefted his

dagger.

“Hadrian, he’s going to kill me anyway. Then he’ll kill you and

hundreds more, thousands more. You can’t let that happen.” She couldn’t

let Appoloin win. She would
not
be the reason that Hadrian failed his

mission. That he surrendered. Died.

She heaved against the demon’s hold, tears streaming as acid etched

deep into bone. She gazed at the man who suddenly meant so much, knew

the sacrifice he was prepared to make, and made her decision.

She had to die. Hadrian couldn’t be robbed of his reward after so many

centuries of penance. Too many people would die. Compared to those costs

for her life, her sacrifice was insignificant.

If he was as good as he’d assured her he was with all uses of his dagger,

he needed only one opportunity. The blade could rip open demon hide; it

would rip through human flesh without slowing. Its force should still be

sufficient to pierce Appoloin’s
crasboethiad
.

She stared fixedly at the dagger. “You know what you have to do,

Hadrian. Do it.”

He froze. “I can’t. My vow—”

“Fuck your vow.”

Appoloin laughed, a wicked grating sound. “Even your female tells you

to surrender, Hunter. Do so, and I may spare her a sojourn in my

dungeons.”

She shook her head. “Do it, Hadrian.”

Inside her mind, a voice said,
Miko Jones
.

Azrael?

The Angel of Death placed one hand to his heart.
Return to your center as

your uncle taught you
.

But
—

I can see it in your mind. Return to it, Miko Jones
.

Hadrian closed his eyes. When he opened them, pain filled them. He

called, “Forgive me.”

And let the dagger fly.

As the blade flew toward her, she reached back into the years of her

uncle’s training and drew on the ancient magicker power. Nic had taught her

the way, but she hadn’t believed then. She believed now. Energies raced

through her, erasing the pain, clearing her mind, building power.

The blade slowed, a luminous trail from Hadrian’s hand to its point.

In a flash, she grabbed her
kanzashi
and envisioned herself as a

corkscrew rising from a bottle. She twisted from Appoloin’s grip. With a

roar, Appoloin tried to catch her. The
kanzashi
flashed as she stabbed the

only vulnerable area she could reach—his eye. Black gore spurted.

Not quite believing what she’d done, she avoided his flailing hands,

dropped and rolled to her feet, still clutching the sticks. As time returned to

normal, the dagger pierced his chest over his heart. Black gore welled up

around the blade.

Appoloin screeched. “Damn you, Hunter. Damn your magicker bitch.”

Hadrian had hit the Demon Lord’s heart but not his c
rasboethiad
.

With a roar like trains colliding, Appoloin lunged for Miko. When he

sank his claws into her arms and looked into her eyes this time, she looked

back, directing the pain . . . elsewhere.

She sensed Hadrian rushing toward them. At the same time, she

gripped the
kanzashi
tighter. Appoloin’s remaining eye widened as he

realized his error.

Miko plunged the sticks into his abdomen, arrowing toward the

c
rasboethiad
.

He jerked and grunted then sneered at her. “Your little toys aren’t long

enough to kill me.”

“No, but mine don’t have to be.” She jerked her head toward where

Hadrian’s hand closed around the dagger hilt. Fast as Spiderman, Brendan

had said. “Because his
is
.”

Her power surged and joined with the Hunter’s. Together they forced

the dagger downward. Through the heart. Into his hellfire’s soul.

Miko pulled out the
kanzashi
as she stepped from the demon’s now

slack hold. As Hadrian withdrew his dagger, Appoloin sagged then dropped

to his knees. With only a long, wet gargling sound, he toppled over. Dead.

A moan rose from the demons around them, and they spun to face the

onslaught. Miko saluted Hadrian with her sticks. “Let’s raise a little Hell.”

Hadrian cleaved his sword through the demons around them. Miko

jabbed her
kanzashi
into a naked female demon who’d latched onto

Hadrian’s sword arm and was trying to reach into his pants. A succubus or

something like that.

It released one hand to scratch Miko’s face. Just the opening she

needed. The
kanzashi
sizzled as she sank them into the bitch’s
crasboethiad
. It

slumped.

Another demon shrieked as Hadrian dispatched it.

With their leader dead and facing two fighters with magickal weapons,

the remainder broke ranks and turned tail.

“Enough, Miko.” Observing the retreat, Hadrian wiped his sword on a

demon’s shirt. “This Gathering is finished.”

She nodded, dispatched one struggling demon, and shook the blood off

her
kanzashi
.

Azrael finished his disposal of the dead into the void then brushed his

hands together.
Well done
.

Miko sensed Hadrian’s surprise that they both heard him. Without the

distraction of demons, Azrael’s voice made her brain itch.

Hunter, you have atoned for your sin. Heaven awaits
.

Hadrian cupped Miko’s cheek and leaned his forehead against hers. “I

never thought I would see you alive again.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easily.” His scent drowned out the demon

stench, and she breathed him in.

“My brave warrior, I wish I could stay.”

She bit her lip, refusing to have her tears as his last memory of her. “But

you’re going to Heaven. You have to go.”

He sighed and pressed a kiss to her hair. “I must.”

Azrael cleared his throat.
Well
. . .

Excuse me?
Since when did the Angel of Death equivocate? “Azrael, is

there something you’re not telling us?”

No one would give up Heaven for this earthly travail.

“To remain with the woman I love, I would,” Hadrian said, hope

lighting his eyes. “Is it possible?”

You have labored five centuries for this. You would sacrifice Heaven for her? You will

age, grow old.

Hadrian drew Miko into his arms. “Here with her. This is Heaven.”

“You’d do that?” She hadn’t even admitted that somehow in a matter

of days she’d given her heart to this man.

“I haven’t had a comrade in arms all these centuries. I can think of

nothing better than to have you at my side, continuing the hunt. Preventing

the release of Hell onto the earth.”

Azrael huffed, which really made Miko’s brain itch.

Very well. If that is your wish. Done
. The Angel of Death disappeared,

leaving a disgruntled-looking cat. He stalked off, grumbling to himself.

Miko laid her head against Hadrian’s heart. Heaven? Oh, yes. She

tightened her embrace.

Come tomorrow, she’d renew her search for Uncle Nic. Appoloin’s

revelation that he’d met the Warrior Sin, the name Uncle Nic used when

fighting professionally, gave her hope that he was alive. The demon lord

would’ve boasted about his death if he were dead.

So Nic should still be out there. Somewhere.

Hadrian lifted her chin and pressed a tender kiss on her lips. “Enough

hunting for tonight, my beautiful, brave warrior.” The kiss deepened,

demanded more. “I have a more pleasurable activity in mind. Firelight,

wine . . .”

She grinned against his lips. “No Azrael?”

“Definitely not.” He kissed the tip of her nose then tucked her under

his arm and turned them away from the river and the evils of the night.

With a contented sigh, she matched his stride. She had a partner in her

search. One that Nic would approve of.

In the meantime, she was a journalist with the story of a lifetime. Good

versus evil, Heaven versus Hell.

Breaking headlines on every media service. Banner headline, ninety-six

point type.

But who the hell would believe her?

The End

SPIRITS RISING

Evelyn Vaughn

Evelyn Vaughn, who also writes as Yvonne Jocks, is the author of

more than 20 novels. She lives in the Dallas/Fort Worth area with her

dogs, her cats, and her imaginary friends.

Galveston, Texas

Present Day

AT FIRST GLANCE, I thought maybe he was a ghost.

“Isn’t that always the way?” I murmured, pausing in front of the

looming, brick Victorian house when I saw the man loitering on its

verandah. “The sexiest ones are always gay, married, or dead.”

But maybe that was wishful thinking—my cheating bastard of a former

boyfriend, Lance, hadn’t much endeared the male sex recently.

Verandah Man turned at my voice, arching a surprised eyebrow at my

comment, and I had to rethink that first impression. The dead part, I mean.

Spirit sight runs in my family, so I know ghosts don’t generally “hear” the

living anymore than the living usually hear ghosts.

I wasn’t wrong about the sexy part.

Tall. Brown-haired. Solid cheekbones and fierce, dark eyes. What I