Demon War: Shadowguard Academy Book 4 Page 19

  My neck whips toward the agonized sound and my mouth falls open. I watch as Fabian withdraws a syringe and needle from the back of the demon’s neck.

  The original demon whirls on him, prepared to strike, but her body beings to flail back and forth. She falls to the ground, and her teeth clang together painfully.

  My grandfather stands over the demon and whispers an incantation. His green vines of power snake around her body. He calls forth many more than he’d used to detain me.

  Seconds pass, but they feel like minutes. The sound of battle fades to the background as I wait with bated breath to see the outcome of Fabian’s surprise attack.

  Finally, Naamah stops seizing.

  Dazed, she blinks up at the ceiling, as if she’s not really seeing anything. Then, she turns her head, and the implication of what I see hits me full force, knocking the wind right out of me.

  Naamah’s eyes are muddy brown.

  Fabian’s potion can turn original demons mortal.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Fabian,” Azazel roars. Gone is the cool calm of someone who thinks they will win this fight. In its place is the barely contained rage of someone who’s been betrayed. “What did you do?”

  The warlock doesn’t answer. I’m shocked when his eyes find mine. I can’t hear him through the sound of battle, I but I can read his lips, “Forgive me, Aspen. I did what I must.”

  Fabian takes a second syringe out of pocket. For a moment, I think he’s foolishly going to try and stab Azazel with it. Instead, my grandfather throws the object into the air, right towards the barrier.

  I cry out, but I don’t have enough time to warn him not to do it. The barrier won’t let anything through. Bolts of power and splashes of blood have been deflected from me and Teresa this entire time.

  That’s why I am shocked beyond words when not only does the syringe fly through the barrier unhindered, but it lands perfectly in my outstretched hand, as if guided to me by magic.

  Teresa snatches the syringe from my hands and holds it up to the light. The black liquid flows eerily in the container. It almost looks like smoke. “Is this what I think it is?”

  I nod. She was in the duct back in the workroom. She saw everything I did. “I think so.”

  “Then we have to use it.” She lowers the weapon, and her glare locks on Azazel. “We’ve got to change him.”

  The mentioned original currently hovers over Fabian. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but based on the vein throbbing in his neck, he’s angry.

  Fear for my grandfather consumes me, and I’m conflicted. He’s a traitor. Or, at least, I thought he was. Now, I’m not so sure.

  “He won’t kill him,” Teresa says quietly, seeing what hold my attention. “Not yet. He still needs him for his potions.”

  I hope she’s right. At this moment, Azazel’s anger is in danger of getting the best of him.

  “We need Belial to lower this barrier,” Teresa changes the subject. She presses into the barrier as hard as she can, but it doesn’t give. “This weapon is useless if we can’t use it.”

  “Give it to me.”

  We both whirl around and see Logan has crept up on the other side of the barrier. His arms glow with the power of many sigils. Blood spatters his clothes, but none of it looks to be coming from him.

  “Give it to me,” he repeats when neither Teresa nor I speak. “I know what to do.”

  I look over at Azazel. His back is still turned as he confronts my grandfather. I don’t know how much time we will have until he’s no longer distracted.

  “Do it,” I tell Teresa. “Before it’s too late.”

  The young woman presses her lips together. She’s clearly nervous about the man she cares for completing such a dangerous task, but she relents. Once again, the potion has no trouble making it through the barrier.

  Logan and Teresa lock eyes. I look away, feeling as if I’m intruding on a private moment. When I look back, Logan is already halfway across the room.

  Fate must be on our side. He avoids confrontation with all mundane demons in his path. Either a lycan intervenes on his behalf, or the monsters simply walk around him like he’s not even there.

  Logan reaches the other end of the room, less than five feet from Azazel. He doesn’t waste another second.

  Logan bends his knees and launches towards the original, hoping for the element of surprise.

  But that element is lost.

  Before the syringe can make contact, Azazel’s figure blurs as he spins around. Then his body sharpens, I see the original has his hand wrapped around Logan’s wrist. The demon twists until Logan is forced to drop the syringe or lose his hand.

  My heart lodges in my throat.

  I fear what the original will do to Logan, but I’m surprised when he simply flings my ex-mentor to the side.

  Then, Azazel throws the syringe like a dart. It strikes Belial in the back.

  Chapter Thirty

  A scream unlike any other I’ve ever heard echoes through the room. Belatedly, I realize it’s coming from me.

  Time slows down as I watch Belial fall to the ground. He begins to seize, just as Naamah did.

  I’ve never known such agony.

  It feels as if my soul is cleaving in two.

  I clutch my chest and fall onto my knees, bending forward and closing my eyes as I try to rid myself of this excruciating feeling.

  Flashes of the past play in my head, further adding to my disorientation and panic.

  Hermona slices her wrists, spilling her blood to seal the Gates of Hell.

  Belial, trapped by his original siblings, is unable to join her to complete his part of the spell. He knows she will die, and his soul wails at the thought.

  My consciousness merges with Belial’s. I get a front row seat to his feelings for Hermona—for me. They are deep. They are pure. And they are selfless.

  He would give anything to keep me safe, even if it’s his own life.

  Belial feels the moment Hermona’s soul leaves the earth. She’s given the ultimate sacrifice to protect mankind, and he wanders the earth alone for centuries, mourning her loss.

  Then, he sees me for the first time.

  I look so young and lost, wearing an outfit I’m clearly uncomfortable in, avoiding the attentions of a young Guardian-to-be as I slink away from my friends.

  He thinks I’m beautiful.

  I experience many of Belial’s memories of me, each one more flattering than the last.

  My laugh, my smile, my stubbornness… he’s taken by them all. If I had any doubt about the sincerity of Belial’s feelings for me, this moment of sharing his mind has rid me of them all.

  Blood roars in my ears, and the pain lingers in my chest as Belial suffers across the room. Then, a new feeling makes itself known.

  Even since Belial’s arrival, the tremors caused by his proximity haven’t left my skin. Now, however, the sensations increase in intensity.

  I’d been so distracted by the battle and my fears, I didn’t notice holy fire thrumming to life inside me. Perhaps Naamah’s mortality neutralized whatever magic was in her blood, suppressing my powers. Or perhaps the magic simply wore off. Whatever the case, I can feel my holy fire. It’s back.

  I sit up and attempt to bring forth a small flame. I want to cry in relief when a small flame appears at my fingertips. I stoke the fire with more and more power. The blue flames become golden light.

  “Aspen?” Teresa steps back, sounding afraid. “Be careful.”

  But I’m done being careful.

  I let the golden light travel over my body, burning away the pain in my chest, surrounding me in a cocoon of the godly power.

  A loud crack fills my ears as my power collides with Belial’s barrier, shattering it without a thought.

  The entire room has stopped fighting. The mundanes watch their master with uncertainty. Their gazes flick to Naamah’s limp form and Belial’s convulsing body. Obviously, their leader has access to a spell powerful enoug
h to subdue original demons. I can practically hear them wondering what that means for them.

  The Guardians and lycans, too, stare at the scene before them. They eye the mundanes warily, prepared if the demons decide to resume their attacks, but they’re also distracted by the sight of me glowing gold and Belial’s debilitated state.

  I step forward.

  A blast of red power flies towards my face. I don’t even lift a finger. Holy fire defuses the attack before it can touch me.

  “Stay back,” Azazel commands. I know him well enough to hear the fear in his voice.

  I keep moving.

  My eyes are on Belial, no one else. He’s finally stopped shaking, but I need to know he’s all right. My soul, so intricately tied with his own, needs the reassurance.

  An object blurs in my peripheral vision, and then Azazel is standing above Belial. A red lightning bolt flickers in his palm. “Come any closer and I will strike him dead.”

  Darkness overtakes my vision. I see only his death.

  “Do that, and it will be the last thing you ever do.” My voice is unrecognizable, changed by the holy fire flowing in every inch of my body. I am merely its vessel. The power, and my soul, are calling all the shots here.

  “I mean it, Aspen.” The red power drops dangerously close to Belial’s head. “Stand down, or he dies.”

  Belial rolls over with a groan. For a moment, I take my eyes from Azazel. I drink in the sight of Belial’s weak form and a pair of lovely, hazel eyes.

  More memories overtake me.

  These, however, are my own.

  I remember the first time Belial dragged me into a shared dream. I remember the lengths he went to get to know me.

  I remember his fierce protectiveness. I remember him turning his back on his own kind in order to keep me safe. I’ve always been his priority. Now, it’s time he is mine.

  The vision of Hermona’s noble sacrifice comes to life in my head. She gave everything she was to protect humanity, even when she knew Belial would not be there to help her separate Hell from the mortal world forever. She did what she had to do—what she was created to do.

  God gave Guardians life so we could make sacrifices for His people.

  Now, it’s my turn.

  I don’t know if Belial can still read my thoughts, or if he’s just good at reading my expressions. Either way, he cries from the ground, “Aspen, no. Don’t do it.”

  But I must.

  To save him, to defeat Azazel, I need to drain myself of holy fire. I need to use all of it. Nothing else will kill an original.

  The entire room, even Azazel, seems to wait with bated breath. Unlike Belial, they don’t know what I’m about to do.

  I meet Belial’s mortal gaze. “I love you, Belial. I think I always have.”

  Pain and denial flicker across his face. “No, please. Aspen, I—”

  I don’t hear what Belial wants to say.

  Azazel, sensing the shift in the tides, launches the red power at my beloved’s chest.

  Unfortunately for Azazel, his power has nothing on God’s holy fire.

  The golden light spears away from my body like a javelin thrown at light speed. It collides with the red power with a loud, ground shaking, bang.

  I’m thrown backward, as is everyone else in the room. I lose sight of Azazel, but my power knows what to do.

  I hear the original demon scream seconds before my head collides with the stone wall. I slump to the floor. I feel warm blood trickling down the back of my neck. I’m about to lose consciousness, but not before I command my holy fire of its next move. It doesn’t need me to carry out my will, or should I say God’s will.

  So, even though the world fades to a blissful, quiet black, I know Azazel is meeting his end. All because he dared to threaten my soulmate.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I come to with my head in Belial’s lap. Worried, hazel eyes are the first thing I see as he leans over me. “You’re awake.” He trails his fingers gently over my face.

  “You’re human,” I return. My voice is scratchy. It sounds like I’ve been screaming.

  He cracks a smile, but I’m too out of it to know if it’s sincere. “So, I am.” His finger traces my eyebrow. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like my head is split open.” I lift a hand to touch the injured spot. I’m surprised to find it no longer hurts.

  “Charles drew a healing sigil on your arm,” Belial informs me. “You are healed, but there may be some lingering pain.”

  “Oh.” I let my hand fall back to my side. I rotate my neck, but I only see the room filled with boxes. No one else is around. “Where is everyone?”

  “The guardians and lycans are detaining Azazel’s partners and releasing his prisoners.”

  “What about Fabian?”

  “Helping.” Belial twists a strand of my hair around his finger. “He was always helping,” he informs me. “The alliance learned weeks ago that Azazel’s plan involved using your blood for more than just portal magic. He needed a warlock’s help, and Fabian offered to act as a double agent.”

  “And Azazel believed him?” I didn’t think the original was that gullible.

  “Your grandfather assured Azazel there was no love between you two. He convinced him that he despised you and your mother, blaming the two of you for Antonio’s decision to abandon the clan. Needless to say, Az was desperate enough to not need much convincing.”

  “I see.” Even though I know Fabian’s words and actions were nothing more than an act, they still sting.

  “What happened to Azazel?” I ask, even though I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.

  “Your holy fire incinerated him. One minute, he loomed over me. The next, he was nothing more than a pile of lifeless ash.”

  That’s what I suspected.

  I’d wanted to bring to life the image of Ladros’s glare smiting the original. I’m glad my power complied.

  As if summoned by the thought, I feel holy fire hum deep within my chest. I’m shocked to realize I didn’t need to sacrifice it all to destroy Azazel. I can sense the power is certainly spent, but I can also feel it regenerating.

  “Aspen?” Belial prompts, no doubt seeing my odd expression.

  “Oh. Yeah… that’s good.” I say, lamely. Fatigue makes it hard to think of anything else to say.

  Belial releases a small chuckle. His black hair falls over his forehead as he tilts it to the side. “Yes, it is.”

  We sit in silence for several minutes. Belial is content to gaze at me and give me small touches, and I’m content to feel like I can finally breathe.

  Azazel is gone.

  There’s no one out to get me.

  At least, no one that I know of.

  I’m not sure if Azazel’s minions realize what was in the compound used to turn two originals mortal, but I hope they don’t. If news of my blood’s power gets out, we will have a problem on our hands.

  “No one knows,” Belial’s melodic voice draws me out of my thoughts.

  At my questioning look, he explains, “No one knows about Azazel and Fabian’s experiments. Not the details, anyway. Your involvement will remain a secret.”

  I want to be reassured and tell myself to trust him since demons can’t lie. But Belial isn’t a demon, anymore, is he?

  “Can you still read my mind?” I ask, searching his face for the answer.

  “No, but I still know you better than anyone.”

  I watch as the original—wait. No.

  I watch as Belial swallows the lump in his throat.

  The conversation is about to take a drastic turn.

  “Did you mean what you said?” His question is barely more than a whisper. “Right before the attack?”

  It takes me a second to realize what he’s asking.

  Even in my tired state, I find the energy to blush.

  But now is not the time for embarrassment. Belial deserves to know the truth—the whole truth.

  I force myself to meet
his gaze—his wondrously beautiful, mortal, gaze.

  “I’m done running, Belial.” I lick my lips. My mouth is suddenly bone dry. “I-I want to give this relationship a chance. I want to be with you.”

  His happy smile melts my heart. He brushes his thumb over my cheekbone, unable, or perhaps, unwilling to stop touching me.

  “Are you sure, little mountain? There will, undoubtedly, be obstacles to overcome by being with me.”

  I know he’s right, but I also know I don’t care.

  “I’m sure, Belial. I promise.”

  My vow is all it takes for Belial to abandon the slim hold he had on his self-control.

  He slips his arms under my back and brings me towards his chest. With one hand, he holds me close. With the other, he holds the side of my face.

  “Aspen,” he caresses my cheek. My name sounds like the beginnings of a prayer.

  I wait for more, but I’m pleasantly startled when his lips press against mine.

  My hands glide over his chest and dig themselves into his thick, black hair. I press my chest against him, yearning to be as close to him as I can.

  We take our time with this kiss, and we don’t hold back.

  Pent-up passion from weeks of denial are unleashed. We grope, stroke, and sink into one another. Belial’s mouth is a perfect fit for mine. He tilts his head and uses his tongue to part my lips, plunging forward without abandon.

  Everything within me is taunt with pleasure. I never want this moment to end. Never.

  But, eventually, I need to come up for air.

  Reluctantly, I break away from our impassioned kiss and suck in some air.

  Belial leans his head back, but his hands continue to trail over me, taking in their fill of my body.

  I can’t wait until we’re alone so he can explore more.

  Immediately, my cheeks flush.

  Way to sound like a hussy, Aspen.

  Belial’s fingers brush over my flaming cheeks. “I love when you blush,” he says in a husky voice, letting me know he’s just as affected as I am. “You look adorable.”

  I fake a scowl.