The Brightest Embers. Jeaniene Frost

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       CHAPTER TWO

      I LUNGED FORWARD with all the speed of my supernatural lineage. It still wasn’t enough. Pain erupted in my calf and I heard another loud crack, but I was still able to tackle the girl and get her all the way behind the car. Then I placed her hand over her gunshot wound.

      “Stay down and keep pressure on this.”

      She still looked like she was numb from shock, but her hand stayed where I’d put it, and she didn’t try to get up. I gave her a firm nod for encouragement.

      “Don’t move. Help is on the way.”

      Another explosion of glass followed my promise, then another one, and another. The shooter was trying to blast his way through the car to get to us. We were sheltered now, but the car could only take so much before one of those rounds made it through.

      I looked at my calf. Blood flowed freely from a nasty hole that hurt as bad as it looked. When I tried to put weight on it, I had to bite back a cry. I could walk on it, maybe even run, but not fast enough to avoid getting shot again.

      I was weighing my options when a massive winged beast landed on the car behind us. The hood crumpled like a tin can under his weight, and I had only a second to hear the car alarm go off before the gargoyle’s roar deafened me to everything else.

      “Good boy!” I said to Brutus in relief. “Who’s getting steak tonight?”

      My pet gargoyle, Brutus, spread out his leathery wings as if he knew I needed the cover. I ran to him and scrambled onto his back, using the harness he always wore now.

      More cracks of gunfire sounded. From the way Brutus jerked, they’d hit him. His scaly hide was too thick for the bullets to really injure him, but they must’ve stung. Brutus let out another roar, his talons shredding the car’s hood in outrage. Then a beat of his mighty wings had us airborne. I didn’t want him to merely fly us away, though. I wanted to stop this shooter before he hurt anyone else.

      I pulled on the reins, directing Brutus to fly nearly straight up. Then I angled him downward toward the roof of the museum Adrian and I had recently left. There was a small structure on that roof, like a short turret, and I glimpsed the barrel from a long sniper rifle protruding from its open window.

      I gave it a vengeful look, then patted Brutus’s side. “Let’s get him, boy!” I shouted, and steered Brutus right at that window. Then I hid behind the gargoyle’s wide back.

      Brutus knew what I wanted him to do. He drew in his massive wings at the last moment, leaving his body streamlined for maximum velocity. I braced when we burst through the window, his body taking out a lot of the wall, too. We landed with a thump that made all my bones rattle.

      I forgot about that when I opened my eyes. Brutus had landed on someone hard enough to make the guy’s guts burst out of his sides. I was worried until I saw the rifle in the dead guy’s hands. When the shooter began to turn to ash, my suspicions proved correct.

      Only minions and demons turned to ash after they died. Since demons were locked away in their realms, not to mention we were currently on hallowed ground that demons couldn’t cross, the dead gunman had to be a minion.

      Brutus spun in a half circle, his long, leathery wings shooting out. Until then, I hadn’t noticed the second guy crouched on the far side of the room. He sprawled forward under the blow, looking stunned as well as terrified. Light rolled over his eyes, as if he were an animal caught in a car’s headlights. That inhuman trait outed him as a minion, too.

      “N-n-nice birdie,” he stuttered at Brutus.

      Thanks to Archon glamour, he didn’t see a massive, nine-foot-tall gargoyle with dragon-like wings and grayish-blue reptilian skin. Instead, he and everyone else saw only a fluffy-feathered seagull. Granted, one that had somehow flown through a window and stomped his buddy to death, all while carrying a passenger on his back. No wonder the minion looked as if he didn’t know whether to scream or to faint.

      “Davidian,” the minion said. “Have mercy.”

      “Mercy?” I repeated in disbelief. “You mean like the mercy minions show humans when you enslave them for your demon masters? Or the mercy demons showed my adoptive parents when they murdered them and pinned their deaths on me? Or maybe you mean the mercy demons showed my sister when they used her as bait in one of their countless attempts to kill me?”

      He glared at me almost sullenly. “Who are you to judge? You’ve murdered hundreds of people.”

      “No, I’ve killed hundreds of demons,” I corrected him, waving my tattooed right hand at him. “King David’s ancient slingshot turned out to pack quite a punch, but I’ll tell you what. I’ll show you the same mercy you just showed me when you watched your friend use me as target practice.”

      His look became hopeful. “You’ll let me run for it?”

      “Make it to the door and you’re a free man,” I told him, loosening Brutus’s reins. “I promise I won’t stop you.”

      He whirled around—and Brutus lunged forward, biting him in half with one vicious snap of his huge jaws.

      “Details matter,” I said under my breath. “You should’ve made me promise not to let him stop you, either.”

      Once, I would have been horrified by seeing a man bit in half, but that person was long gone now. She’d been replaced by the new me, and the new me had been hardened from grief, betrayal, survival and a whole lot of destiny and death.

      Plus, if I’d let the minion go, he would have destroyed more peoples’ lives. Now the only thing he was destroying was the carpet as his ashes stained and smoldered on it.

      “Good boy,” I said again to Brutus, holding on tighter when his instant, happy wiggles were enough to almost unseat me. Brutus loved praise more than he loved life itself. “Now you’ll get two steaks for dinner tonight.”