with all the extrahuman strength I had in me. Pain reverberated up my leg, but this time, I didnât spare a single second before attacking again. I grabbed his head and yanked it to the side as hard as I could. A crack sounded and the minionâs whole body went limp.
I managed to roll away, my knees and ribs throbbing so much that vomiting felt like a good way to celebrate. Still, I was exultant. Looks like those fighting lessons had really paid off! In fact, Costa had trained me so well, my actions had felt more like muscle memory instead of a conscious decision to kill someone. I had killed the minion, though, and he wasnât the first one, although he was the first one that Iâd taken on by myself with only a normal weapon.
Being a killer hadnât been anywhere on my list of life goals six months ago, when Iâd been a junior at WMU. Since then, Iâd had to learn how to do that as well as do a lot of other strange, unpleasant things. Thank you, unexpected supernatural lineage. You are the gift that keeps on giving.
With a suddenness that still startled me, the minionâs body dissolved until nothing but ashes remained. They began to blow away in the same ocean breeze that whipped my hair around like dozens of dark brown scarves. The way minions and demons turned to ash after death was the only considerate thing they did.
Even though everything hurt, I heaved myself up from the sand. Bruised and battered or no, I still had to find Brutus.
I was in the process of brushing the sand off me when my surroundings changed in an instant. The sand turned to sheets of ice, the light became pitch darkness and the sounds from the surf ceased with such abruptness that the new silence was ominous. The worst part was the cold. My teeth began to chatter, and the frigid air felt like it scattered razors across my skin.
Just as quickly, the dark, frozen world disappeared, leaving me back on the beach with a warm, salt-scented breeze and mauve-colored shades of dawn starting to paint the horizon. Still, I felt stiff from more than the cold that seemed to linger on the air. That hazy, alternate version of this area wasnât a full-on sensory hallucination, although all of my former doctors wouldâve sworn otherwise. Instead, it was a glimpse of a realm that hovered right over this one.
Physicists call it M theoryâthe idea that different dimensional layers existed next to each other. I called it a shitload of trouble, because that sunless, icy world was a demon realm. My lineage gave me the ability to catch glimpses of these deadly realms, but for some reason, I hadnât spotted this one before. If Iâd known that a demon realm existed right on top of this place, I wouldâve never walked this beach at all, let alone by myself before the sun was fully up.
Before I could turn around to leave, a large slash suddenly appeared in the air and three people stepped out of it. At once, the supernatural tattoo on my right arm began to burn. I gripped it without looking away, and the part of my brain that wasnât freaking out figured out what was going on.
The minion Iâd killed hadnât snuck up on me using his supernatural stealth and speed. Heâd simply crossed from a demon realm into this one through a gateway that I hadnât known was there.
I didnât have time to wonder if the realm was new, or if it had always been there and was now accessible to this world through an ominous crack. The three new minions seemed startled to see me, but then their gazes roved from the blood on my dress and cardigan to the very incriminating pile of minion ashes near my feet. When the palest one stretched out hands that turned into living, writhing snakes, it was all I could do not to scream.
Not three minions. Two minions and an unkillable, shape-shifting demon.
Standing and fighting would be suicide, so I snatched my knife from the pile of minion ashes and began to run. The demon barked out an order in a language I recognized all too well, then the minions gave chase, and they were fast. If I had been a normal human, they would have had me in five seconds flat, but I wasnât normal, and right now, I was glad about that.
I was also glad I had a mental map of the closest hallowed ground near the North Shore park. In fact, Iâd memorized every plot of hallowed ground near my house just in case something like this happened. St Josephâs Catholic Church was about seven streets away. If I made it, the demon couldnât touch me because demons couldnât cross hallowed ground. Minions could, but Iâd already killed one today. Why not go for more?
Since sand was harder to run on, I headed toward the sidewalk along the park, needing the flat ground to increase my speed. Behind me, I could hear the minions cursing. They hadnât expected me to make them work for this. That gave me grim satisfaction as I darted around benches and tables in the deserted picnic area. My knees and ribs still throbbed from my earlier fight, but nothing was as great a painkiller as survival instinct. As I ran, I counted down the wooden street markers in the park for encouragement. Eighty-Third Street. Eighty-Fourth. The church was just after Eighty-Seventh Street. I was going to make it.
Then, even though he was much farther away, I heard the demon yell, âSheâs the Davidian!â in a rage-filled roar, and I knew all bets were off. My speed might have been preventing the minions from capturing me, but it also outed me as number one on the demonâs most-wanted list.
The demon was no longer content to send his minions ahead of him like a bunch of hunting dogs. Several quick glances over my shoulder showed him now tearing after me himself, and he made the minions look as if theyâd been moving in slow motion. Benches, tables and other large objects were hurtled my way as he didnât just chase me, but actively tried to kill me.
I ducked and weaved around as many as I could, but some still found their mark. I cursed when something heavy smacked me in the back, and while it made me stumble, I forced myself not to fall. Instead, I put all of my energy into running, staying within the limits of the park despite its greater dangers of projectiles. Taking the main road, A1A, would give me a straight shot to the church, but even at this hour, cars were on it. I couldnât risk someone else getting hurt, and demons loved nothing more than collateral damage.
Iâd just rounded a corner that brought me briefly back onto the beach when something slammed into my legs, knocking me over. I rolled at once, making sure not to stab myself in the process, and was back up when a loud, trumpeting snarl sounded overhead.
Brutus, my pet gargoyle, flew toward me, the dawnâs rays highlighting his large, beastly form in different shades of pink. I wouldâve been relieved to see him, but I was too shocked by the man riding on Brutusâs back.
The minions and demon saw them, too, and at their confused expressions, I remembered that they didnât see a large man on the back of a hulking, grayish-blue gargoyle. Due to Archon glamour, all they saw was an angrily squawking seagull somehow carrying his muscular male passenger, and from the way they cocked their heads, they didnât know what to make of the sight.
âIvy, duck!â the man yelled.
I hit the sand even as I reeled with shock. Only one person in the world could treat the deadly gargoyle like a winged pony, and that was the same person whoâd broken my heart months ago, and then disappeared.
Adrian.
BRUTUS SOARED OVER ME, and Adrian almost grazed my back from how close he came. Seconds later, I heard multiple thumps and a scream. I rolled over in time to see the minions fall to the ground. Only bloody holes remained where their heads had been, and when Brutus whirled back around, his leathery wings were spattered with red.
Then Adrian jumped off Brutus and torpedoed himself onto the snake-armed demon. Two-hundred-plus pounds of pissed-off male slamming into the demon caused him to plow back into the sand. Adrianâs bulk pinned him down, but those coiling serpents surged toward him, gleaming fangs extended to strike.
âWatch out!â I screamed.
Before the first syllable left my lips, Adrian had already grabbed