in slime. To the far left of the fire, three children huddled together. The smallest girl wept loudly while the other two tried to comfort her.
Alive! A surge of elation followed by a wave of fear assaulted him. Could he and Lillian keep those children alive?
The malleus stood as tall as the flames and sang in a low grating tone. Firelight reflected off its slimy skin as it tore a year old tree from the ground, roots and all. As if it were a twig, the malleus tossed it on the fire. Flames roared higher and his voice grew louder. Dorian knew nothing of the demon language, but the eerie cadence churned his guts.
The trebox slunk around the fire. He used two hands on a sword, carving symbols in the hard ground. This trebox had shed his human clothes, exposing his hunched back and visible ribcage.
A recent report had crossed his desk depicting a similar scene in England. When they completed drawing the runes, the innocents would be sacrificed. “They mean to open a gate. We only have until the song ends.”
Lillian’s eyes widened. She reached into the folds of her underskirt and released a small crossbow from its holster, chocked an arrow, and took aim. “We will need to move fast.”
“Ready.”
She let the arrow fly.
It pierced the malleus demon’s left eye, silenced the song mid-word, and dropped the enormous monster to the ground before he even had time to roar.
The trebox screamed in the language only demons understood. He took up the song his comrade had been chanting and wrote faster in the dirt.
Dorian pulled one throwing knife from the belt strapped around Lillian’s smooth skin. He jumped over the hill and ran down, dagger raised in his left hand.
The trebox rushed at him with its eyes focused on the long knife.
When he was within range, he let the smaller blade fly.
It buried deep in the greenish creature’s throat. He crumpled with a whine.
Lillian ran behind him down the hill.
All three children screamed and cried.
She charged past them and kicked dirt on the fire.
“What are you doing?”
“I think he might have gotten the incantation finished. Look at the way the smoke curls in on itself. Evil will find a way in even without the sacrifice. Once opened, I don’t know how to close a gate.”
It was unnatural the way the smoke did not move with the breeze. The ground rumbled. Dorian kicked dirt on the fire and rubbed out the carved runes from the ground.
The boy ran over and helped put the fire out.
The ground stilled, the flame’s heat died on the wind, and silence shrouded the night.
Dorian crouched near the patch of charred ground. Sulfur or some similar odor assailed his senses. Beads of sweat dripped down the side of his face and his heart pounded against his breast. He’d never felt more alive. Whether it was the fight or the woman beside him, he didn’t know. The rush of energy flowing through his body might become a habit.
“Dorian, behind you!”
Dagger raised, he turned for the next attack.
The creature rushing toward him was the size of a child, covered with hair all over its large head and sturdy limbs. It scaled the side of the rocks near the two crying girls. It moved like a spider on a web along the vertical face of the rock.
The pravus demon’s red eyes filled with pure mischief and evil. It leered down at the children as if they were a roast pig on the spit.
Dorian flew as fast as his feet would take him past the boy. He threw himself over the girls as the creature dropped from the rock face.
“Do not let it touch you!”
Lillian’s cries were pointless. The thing was on his back. He reached back and grabbed a handful of wiry hair, tearing it away from his jacket. The fabric ripped. Turning, he meant to toss it as far away as possible from the children.
“Here,” Lillian called, ten feet from him.
His entire upbringing screamed for him to toss the dangerous demon as far away from the woman as possible. Yet her warrior stance, shining eyes, boots, bare thighs, soot on her face, and blades in both hands gave him confidence. Dorian tossed the demon toward Lillian.
As the demon spun through the air, its high-pitched cry made Dorian cringe.
Lillian whirled, knives outstretched, extension of her arms. She sliced through the center of the horrid creature. The thing dropped at Lillian’s feet in two pieces. Black blood oozed around its shattered body.
Dorian searched the darkness for further threats, but saw nothing. He eased away from the girls who had stopped crying and looked up at him with wide blue eyes.
Their brother rushed over. “Sir, what were those things?”
He was no more than twelve or thirteen. How did Dorian answer? He put his hand on the boy’s thin shoulder. “They were pure evil. My lady and I aim to destroy such things. You might be best served by saying it was strange men who took you and your sisters. We will take you home now.”
It wasn’t much of an explanation, but the boy nodded and gathered his sisters to him.
They lifted the children onto the horses and kept a slow pace toward the village. Lillian and Dorian walked down the craggy hillside leading the horses.
Lillian did not look at him or speak. She had returned her dress to the more customary design, and her legs were covered. There was no sign of a weapon. Other than the smudges on her hands and face, she might have been a fine lady out for a morning stroll with some local children.
The first gray of day glowed in the east when they dropped the exhausted trio off at the Thrush home. Mrs. Thrush cried and smothered the children, but Mr. Thrush looked at the rescuers with a wary eye.
By the time they arrived back at the posting inn they were dirty and tired, but there was no time for the niceties of a bath or even a short rest. Once they handed off their mounts to the stable lad, they paid the fee for their stay. The innkeeper handed them a parcel of food, though he averted his gaze and bid them a hasty good-bye.
Lillian thanked him, took Dorian’s hand, and climbed into the curricle. He took the reins and made a quick exit south toward Edinburgh.
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