Chapter Sixteen
Melody squeezed her hands around Vita’s bony neck and slammed into the wall one more time.
Vita only cackled, a dark and sinister laugh that writhed with much more than humor.
Melody’s horns were locked with the she-demon’s. “Open the damn door!”
She sensed Creed in there, and he was hurting.
Vita’s uneven smile didn’t leave her face. “He’s dying,” she wheezed. “You’re not the only one with poison.”
Melody reflexively dug her thumbs into the female’s trachea. Could poison off a vampire? She wasn’t sure, and she didn’t want to test it.
“He dies, you die.” Vita was going to die anyway. Roots surrounded them, batting away those pesky little creatures of Vita’s.
The female barked a laugh. “I feel his life force fading.”
Melody loosened her grip but commanded a root to loop around Vita’s neck. The other demon’s eyes widened, much to Melody’s satisfaction.
“I will dismantle you limb from limb.” Melody spoke evenly, let her gaze reflect how serious she was. “I will take a hand first, and one from each of your little creations.”
Fury filled Vita’s eyes. She pushed against Melody, almost dislodged her, so easy to do for a demon so much larger than her. But the roots and Melody’s ferocity held her in place.
Vita narrowed her eyes, her body going limp. Her gaze darted to the side, but her next words distracted Melody from following to see what she’d looked at.
“He died believing you wanted nothing to do with him.” Vita’s dark laugh rippled down Melody’s spine, filling her with dread. “He fell for my little nightmare of you demanding he sever the bond.” A pout twisted her already misshapen lips. “His heartbreak was utterly delightful.”
A cry of outrage ripped from Melody. She jerked her horns free and reared back. Lowering her head, she rammed Vita. Creed believed she’d wanted nothing to do with him? After she’d rushed to his side to save him?
Another shout of sorrow and she impaled Vita again. A wet groan left the female’s lips and she hung limp from Melody’s roots. Melody unloaded her poison before stepping back to free herself.
An unforgiving band of steel clamped around her waist. Bursts of fire sprung up from wherever it touched.
What the—
She screamed. Oh god, the agony. What had cut her? Swords of fire.
She was jerked back. She sucked in another scream of torment. Vita’s sickly scent swarmed into her lungs. Bits of her fetid flesh dropped off her horns. The force that had ahold of Melody whipped her around like an unwanted rag doll until she dangled from massive hands under her shoulders.
When she got a look at her captor, she shrieked.
Malachim’s big, ugly face leered at her, his sinister red horns much larger this close. A tremble shook her pained body.
Things had been going so well. She had planned to finish off Vita, then rescue Creed. If they could’ve made it through this, they would’ve been golden. They’d made it through everything else, despite a bumpy ride. But Malachim was one of the strongest purebreds the underworld had to offer. And she was alone. And Creed was dying.
She was losing miserably, but not completely powerless. With a thought, the root around Vita’s neck tightened. Melody kept her wide gaze glued to Malachim’s ugly face. Think harder! The root jerked. Melody gasped, her fear blocking her power. Or was her power dwindling?
More! It finally twisted through ligaments and bone.
Malachim’s nostrils flared as Vita’s head hit the floor.
“Oops,” she said and laughed weakly. Each twitch of muscle was excruciating, but she wasn’t going down cowering and groveling about how she wished she was better.
He grunted and squeezed, like CPR on steroids. Her heart stammered, but resumed beating.
“Enjoy that power while you have it, human.” The words in his rough voice were almost indiscernible.
Melody analyzed the situation. He held her too far away. Even fully extended, her horns wouldn’t work.
All her roots were free now that they didn’t have Vita’s creatures to battle. She ordered them to attack, but they only fluttered weakly.
“What’s the matter?” he sneered, drool hanging from his swollen lips. “Is your human stamina failing you? Or perhaps you didn’t know they wouldn’t work on me.”
“B-but…when I killed Bita and you were going to attack me?”
His booming laughter made her flinch. “Did your roots actually touch me? Or did I let you think I was scared of them?”
He’d…he’d outsmarted her? A big, brute of a demon who looked like his brain should be the size of walnut? He’d gotten the element of surprise.
Flying high on her new abilities and her bonus of learning to control them, she hadn’t learned the drawbacks. When did she fatigue? Were there any demons they wouldn’t work on? Without Rell, she was flying blind. He’d said Malachim was as strong and ferocious as he looked, but couldn’t read any other powers. If Malachim was immune to her, he may be immune to others’ power. Then he may have been immune to Rell’s abilities as well, and she was in a well of trouble.
She looked inside of herself. Hello pit of rage?
It wasn’t there. She was learning to speak what was on her mind. She’d proven herself, and in doing so, effectively cleaved herself from the biggest fuel supply for her power.
She thought of Creed dying a few feet away on the other side of the sealed door. Like a tiny flame flickering in the dark, the burst of power was short-lived and useless against her captor.
Malachim spun her and tucked her under his hairy, putrid armpit.
Strike now!
She aimed her horns at his abdomen.
Without a word, he gripped both horns in one mighty hand and twisted. They jerked on her scalp, cracked, and finally gave, breaking off at the base, taking skin with.
The pain robbed her of breath, blurred her vision. She gasped and choked. Tears welled and spilled from her eyes.
Malachim lumbered away with her secured to his side. She was weak, helpless. For once, she was the one wishing she was more. She’d failed, and everyone was going to pay for it.
***
Hot, tangy blood filled his mouth. Creed’s awareness slowly came to. He was on the floor. It was still dark, but dirt and grime covered him from head to toe.
He drank the gift of blood, not caring who it came from until he remembered where he was and why.
Besides, it was familiar. Strength infused his muscles, energy coursed through him. He recognized the potent flavor with the subtle tang of brimstone and the burn of bad whiskey.
Turning his head, he croaked, “Quution?”
Quution shoved his wrist back in Creed’s mouth. Creed took a few more pulls before stopping to rise into a sitting position.
“Where’s Melody?” His voice was hoarse, but he forced the words out. He’d been passing out while Melody raged on the other side of the door.
“Malachim just left with her. I didn’t dare revive you until he was gone.”
“What?” Creed surged to his feet and swayed. Melody lost the fight and was at their lack of mercy?
“It would seem that when those barbarian demons team together, they can be quite cunning. They tricked you into your parents’ clutches to get you away from Melody. They think if they can isolate her, they can kill her. Meanwhile, they had a trap prepared down here. But I sensed Vita’s energy draining, so kudos to Melody for that. There’s another vacancy on the Circle.”
“She couldn’t take Malachim?”
“Perhaps, if she was fresh, but she’s been going pretty steady with her powers since she woke up. Plus, I suspect there’s more to Malachim than his fearsome appearance and bulging muscles.”
He had to get to her, had to find a way to help her.
“How can she refresh?”
Did she have to rage? Would her terror fuel her just as well?
Quution bounced an orb in his hand to cast some light around the room. It was a drab, plain cave. A perfect canvas for Vita’s attempt at trickery.
“I really don’t know,” Quution answered. “Melody may have discovered already.”
Creed paused to think. Had she?
She must’ve gotten some boon from sex.
Yes, she had figured it out. But they’d just coupled. It’s not like finding her for a quick fuck was feasible in this situation. Would telling her he loved her have the same effect as when he’d upset her?
“I need to find her.”
Quution inclined his head, his expression saying Duh.
Another problem dawned on him. “I need weapons.”
Quution smiled. “It just happens, I have some.” He crossed to the door that was nothing but a rectangle in the wall with no handle or hinges. He pressed his fingers on the surface. Light rimmed the perimeter and the door tipped outward.
Creed followed him out and through the maze of corridors. Some places he thought he recognized, but it was difficult when everything looked the same. Demons must go by sense as much as looks.
They passed no one.
“It seems the rest of the inhabitants know there’s some bad business going on and have made themselves scarce.” Quution sounded more amused.
“Waiting to see where the pointer lands?”
Quution turned into a large cavern. Creed knew it was his without him stating the obvious. Other than Melody’s vines and Bishop’s talk of frost berries, the only thing adorning the underworld was dirt and torches.
Tapestries lined Quution’s lair, as if he flaunted his ability to transport them between realms by hanging them for all to see. A makeshift rack with clothing hung on the far wall and a large, boxy chest sat at the end of the slab. The slab for sleeping that was covered in a duvet.
“Show off much?” Creed muttered.
“It’s the simplest things that portray one’s power better than violence.” Quution crossed to the chest and flipped the lid open. “In my studies of what I could transport here with little effort, I collected these.”
Creed went to the chest and peered inside. He didn’t care what Quution had. Creed was strapping it on and going in search of Melody. He grabbed the machete first. It was encased in a leather holder that he hooked over his neck and shoulder.
“Did you smuggle bullets for the Beretta?”
“If that’s what you call the gun, then there should be an extra clip.”
Creed lifted the weapon belt the gun was holstered in. As he strapped it around his waist and adjusted the fit, he inspected the material. “Is this from a cop?”
“A very pissed-off one, yes. But it’s been ten years, I’m sure he’s replaced them by now. You’ll find cuffs and a flashlight also.”
“I won’t need cuffs. I’m going to kill Malachim.”
“You’re going to need help with that. I’ve summoned Stryke.”
Creed spun on his heel. “I’m not waiting.”
“Creed.” The solemnity in Quution’s voice stopped him. “I urge you to wait. In your realm, vampires and shifters dominate. Down here, you’re barely more than human to a beast like Malachim.”
“I can hold my own.”
“I could fry you in two seconds,” Quution said flatly. “Your leader has faced Malachim before, but he was in a host. Your friends faced off with Rancor, after copious containment spells failed. And if I remember the story correctly, it was Fyra who toasted him. Not a vampire.”
Creed’s body twitched to stomp away. His internal compass declared Melody was too far from him. Paired with knowing she was in grave danger, he almost sprinted away.
But Quution was correct. He wasn’t enough.
Creed scowled at the floor. An inkling of understanding for Melody’s life crept into his thoughts. He wasn’t enough to save her. She’d had to suffer her whole life feeling inadequate, and now she had to suffer because he wasn’t enough. She’d spent her energy trying to save him and was paying for it. He wanted to rage with the frustration. No wonder Melody had epically lost her temper whenever those old feelings were triggered.
Fine. He’d have to abide by being the weaker species in the realm. “When the hell is Stryke going to get here,” he growled.
“I’m already here. And I brought friends.”
Creed whipped his head around and a smile formed. Stryke stood in Quution’s doorway with Bishop and Fyra.
His friends. Old and new. His family—and Melody’s. No, he wasn’t enough to fight alone in the underworld, but he was enough for Melody, her alter ego Meladonna, and any other persona she might adopt. And he’d spend the rest of their lives proving it.