Demons of Desire (32 page)

I felt the demon’s chest rumble against me with laughter. “I was two hundred when I caught my first one, and he tore me up something fierce. Got away, too. Left me bleeding and missing half my toes, and I didn’t even get to eat the little monster.”

Two hundred. And I was a few weeks shy of twenty–one.

“Where are we?” I asked, feeling secure enough to step out of Irix’s embrace and turn around to survey the rest of the forest. The air felt comfortably warm, but something in the atmosphere lifted my skin with a strange tingling sensation. It was as if a low–level electric current constantly ran through me.

“One of the elven kingdoms.” Irix walked to a tree and ran a hand down the bluish–gray bark. “It’s hard to tell which one since they tend to favor similar styles in their created landscapes. I’ll be able to better get my bearings once we’re airborne.”

My mind halted at created landscapes. “This … the elves
made
this? Trees, plants, and wildlife?”

“Well, not the wildlife. All the plants, and the general environment. You’ll see once we cross the border into the demon sections. None of this is indigenous to Hel. It’s all a reproduction of how the Elven homeland was before their sun went nova.”

This was a far cry from reviving wilted begonias. I forgot to breathe as I stared around in renewed amazement.

“Although they didn’t create any of the animals — elves can’t do that sort of thing, they did a program of selective breeding over the last several–million years and have been able to approximate many of the animal species they once had.”

“It’s a shame they couldn’t find a planet where the plants and animals were more similar to their homeland,” I commented, still amazed they’d accomplished so much, even in millions of years.

“Well, your planet is actually nearly identical to theirs. They had the opportunity to share it with you, but during the war between the angels and demons, they chose to come to Hel rather than remain under the angels’ thumb. It was the lesser of two evils, in my opinion. I can only imagine how their lives would have been with the angels breathing down their necks all the time. We pretty much leave them alone, other than the occasional trespass.”

I wandered over toward a thorny shrub that had dark purple berries nestled among the green–gold leaves. Were they edible? If I had created this paradise of flora and fauna, I’d make them edible. I reached out toward the leaves and heard a thrumming noise, barely audible, beneath the birdsong. Instinctively I shot out my hand and grabbed the arrow mid–flight, snapping the shaft in two as I whirled about to block the archer’s aim.

It hadn’t been meant for me. The arrow had been shot straight toward Irix.

“Amber! Get down!” Irix shouted.

No fucking way. Stupid, I know, since Irix could quickly heal any wound, where I was more vulnerable to injury. A flurry of arrows came at me, too many to catch. As one ripped through the flesh along my arm, something huge knocked me to the ground from behind, driving the breath from my lungs. I heard the thud of arrows into solid flesh, felt the massive form on my back relax, squashing me further into the dirt.

“Get. Off. Can’t. Breathe.”

The pressure lifted, and the weight slid to the side of me. I rolled over and stared into a narrow bird–face, complete with sharp beak and a scaled head. My terror vanished the moment I met its golden eyes and recognized Irix. My gaze traveled from the freaky pterodactyl head, down an over–sized human torso, to scaled arms and legs that ended in talons the size of my forearm. Pinned tight to his back by arrows were huge leathery wings. He looked like a pincushion, bristling with the feathered shafts.

A voice shouted something in a language I didn’t understand, and Irix tried to move his arm protectively over me. Whatever was on the arrows must have had a numbing effect, because his arm twitched, and he collapsed into a heap beside me. Seeing him like this, a mighty demon brought down, snapped something inside me, and I shrieked in fury, jumping to my feet and spinning to face the two men behind me.

Judging from their pointed ears, they were elves. Blond and fair–skinned with chameleon–like clothing that shifted and changed to blend with their background. They were holding a net of sparkling silver between them, and their mouths dropped open as they saw me.

Again with the sing–song language. The only word I understood from the handful Nyalla had taught me was “elf”. Yeah, assholes. But I’m only half an elf, and one–hundred percent of me was pissed. Before they could recover from their shock, I launched a lightning bolt at one of them, frying him to a blackened lump of flesh. I’d never channeled such power before. I wasn’t sure if it was my anger or the weird tingling feeling I got from the air in Hel, but what was supposed to knock him down cooked him on the spot. I didn’t have much chance to register dismay at the over–the–top effect of my powers, though. The remaining elf dropped his half of the scorched net and screamed a word I recognized as “demon” before taking off through the woods.

I hated to leave Irix numb on the forest floor, but I knew I couldn’t let this elf get away. I dashed through the forest after him, following the shifting colors of his clothing — a shimmer against a green and brown backdrop. He knew his surroundings, but my speed was equal to his. I shot the occasional burst of electricity, setting brush ablaze and crashing limbs to the ground. One blast overshot my mark, passing the flashing form of the elf and exploding a tree in front of us. It was just the break I needed. The elf paused enough for me to plow into him, knocking him into the dirt where we tumbled through smoldering leaves and twigs into a painfully thorny sticker bush.

I’m not much at hand–to–hand combat, and that last blast of lightning seemed to have depleted my powers. I shocked him with what little I had remaining, and he squealed, punching me and squirming to free himself from my grasp. My hands slipped, and he pulled something shiny from his belt, driving a knife toward my chest.

I did what all good women do when facing death. I kneed the guy in the balls. Elves must have testicles of steel. My blow didn’t drop him, but it did cause him to flinch enough that the knife heading for my heart nailed me in the shoulder instead.

It hurt like fuck. I’d never been stabbed before, but I didn’t think it was supposed to burn like a red hot poker through my flesh. The elf pulled the knife free, and with a snarl, clearly planned to attempt a more deadly strike. Before he’d began his downward thrust, I did my second girly thing. I grabbed him by the long blond hair and pulled with all my might.

Evidently, elven scalps are more sensitive than their genitals. A high–pitched scream rent the air, and I rolled to narrowly avoid a second stab. The elf’s weapon plunged deep into the ground, half an inch from my armpit.

This had to stop. Now.

Twisting the silky hair in a fist, I yanked toward the ground, turning the elf’s head and jerking his body sideways. His movement gave me enough room to pull my upper body upright and sink my teeth into the nearest visible flesh. Which happened to be his stupidly big, pointed ear.

Elven ears seemed to be even more sensitive than their scalps. Given that this was a significant erogenous zone for me, I kind of expected the blood–curdling scream that poured from my opponent. He let go the knife, sacrificing both his weapon and his balance to use both hands to pry my teeth from his ear. I let him. Then I snatched the knife from the loamy ground and drove it into his back.

It was like riding the mechanical bull at the rodeo, except from the bottom. One hand in his hair, the other gripping the knife, and my teeth firmly clamped on his ear, I wrapped my legs tight around him and held on like the good ‘ole country gal I was. He screamed and thrashed. Bits of foliage magically grew and twined around my body, trying to yank me from him like ropey hands. I wanted to pull the knife out to stab him again, but was afraid of losing my grip and slim advantage. My arms shook with the effort to hold on, vines digging into the flesh of my back and stomach. The wound in my shoulder burned and throbbed, and I felt my hold on the knife slip.

The elf lurched free. Everything went blurry as my injured shoulder slammed into the ground, and I was vaguely aware of the elf jumping away in preparation for a mad dash through the woods. I’d never catch him this time. I was spent. Hooking a leg around his, I managed to trip him and send him sprawling backward. The knife hilt protruding from his back slammed against a tree. The elf paled in agony as the weapon flew from his flesh, ripping out a chunk of skin and muscle.

Shaking off my dizziness, I dove for him, but my arms closed around nothing but air. I wasn’t sure if the elf had found an inner reserve and managed to run for freedom, or had somehow teleported. The amount of blood on the ground would normally have signified a mortal wound, but Irix had told me that elves had the power to heal themselves. If so, this guy would soon have reinforcements heading our way, and they would probably be better armed.

I wiped my bloodied hands onto a patch of moss and pocketed the knife. I needed to find Irix and get us the fuck out of here, and back to New Orleans. Only one problem. With my mad dash through the forest, I hadn’t paid enough attention to my surroundings. I had no idea how to find Irix.

I was lost. In Hel.

32

I
read somewhere that whenever you’re lost in the wilderness, you should stay put so rescuers can find you. I was pretty sure there weren’t any search parties in Hel — at least none I wanted to encounter. Staying put seemed especially hazardous given that the elf–that–got–away was probably going to direct his buddies to this location. Facing vengeful elves was about as high on my wish list as facing a firing squad.

Thankfully I’d left a trail of scorched earth in my wake. There were trampled briars and moss where I’d wrestled with the elf, and the smoking remains of a tree lay to my left. I’d tackled my foe before he’d reached it, so I turned my back on the blackened trunk and headed in the opposite direction, pausing occasionally to note broken branches and crushed ground cover. Birds chirped cheerfully overhead, but I was tense, straining my ears to hear anything that might indicate pursuit of the two–legged kind.

There were a few times I had to backtrack after I’d taken a wrong trail. Two things I was putting on my to–do list — some kind of martial arts class, and an orienteering class. If I ever got back home, that is. There was a horrible fear edging in at the back of my mind, no matter how I tried to stomp it down. Elves were all about the purity of their race, and to them I was an abomination. They’d thought I was dead, killed in infancy by my mother, but now they’d know the truth. If I didn’t get out of here, if they managed to catch me, I’d be a dead half–breed.

Finally I saw the clearing ahead of me, saw a large reptilian bird–like creature thrashing around on the ground with arrows protruding from its back. My heart raced as I ran toward him.

“Irix!”

He turned his beaked head toward me, eyes full of relief.

“Pull out the arrows.” His voice was guttural, raspy as sandpaper on glass.

I didn’t hesitate, yanking the barbed shafts from his back and wings, tearing chunks of flesh with each pull. I had to brace my foot on his back to remove several of them. He never made a noise, never even flinched. Finally the last arrow was out, and Irix lay panting and bleeding black all over the leaf–covered ground. His eyes met mine for a fraction of a second, then a flash of light blinded me. When my eyesight cleared, I saw Irix in the form I knew, stark naked. He sprang from the ground and grabbed me in a crushing embrace.

“Arm. Shoulder,” I gasped into his chest, trying to keep from screaming in pain as he pressed against my wounds. He loosened his grip, but his hands were still tight on my waist.

“Sorry. I thought … I worried… .” he buried his face in my hair and breathed deep, shuddering on the exhale.

“I chased the other elf, but he got away, and it took me a while to find my way back. Why were they shooting at us? I thought you said I looked like an elf. Surely they don’t just go slaughtering each other in forests.”

“They probably didn’t see you at first. And elves do go slaughtering each other in forests. We’re in Wythyn. They’re at war with pretty much everyone right now. You’re dressed like a human. They might have thought you were a spy from another kingdom.” He glanced at the blackened elf a few yards away. “Of course, once you did that, they pegged you right away as a demon.”

“But I thought demons got along with elves. Would they really kill you over something so minor as trespass?”

“Those arrows wouldn’t have killed a full demon, just incapacitated one long enough to secure and interrogate. But that’s not the problem.” He pulled away and looked around, his posture tense and wary. “They know what you are. Amber, you’re in great danger. We need to get out of here fast.”

He stepped back, and with a blinding flash, resumed his bird–like form. Wings spread like a reddish–gold canvas and flexed, stirring the tree limbs with their movement. I hesitated, uncertain how this was going to work. I really didn’t want to ride on his back. Given the numbness and pain in my arm and shoulder, there was no way I could hold on for any distance. A vision of me falling off Irix and crashing through the trees to my death churned my stomach.

“Is there a way you can carry me and not be gripping my shoulder?”

Irix looked down at his scaled arms and wiggled the huge talons that took the place of fingers. Ouch. They weren’t exactly designed for gripping something you didn’t intend on eviscerating.

“Sorry,” he hissed. I swear I saw the edges of his beaked mouth turn up in a devilish grin.

In a blink, I was over his shoulder, face pressed against the ridge where his wings joined in a mesh of sinewy muscles. My shoulder screamed in agony. A mist of white briefly closed in on my vision.

“No. This won’t work,” I gasped. Bouncing along his back with every beat of his wings would surely be the death of me.

“How about this?”

He swung me around in a fireman carry, and this time I did scream, my voice echoing through the trees. Irix made a clucking sound and darted out a two–foot–long forked tongue to lick along my shoulder and arm. Before I could protest the inappropriate timing and let him know that huge forked tongues didn’t exactly do it for me, my arm grew blissfully numb.