Dio’s wind energy wavered in the barrier. Bela dropped her sword and concentrated every bit of her essence on keeping the protection intact. Her chest crushed as she stopped breathing, giving all of herself to the task. She didn’t give a shit if the demon ripped off her head, as long as her quad took the bastard down and got out of Central Park alive.
“To hell with this.” Andy dropped to one knee and aimed her pistol. Water sprayed down both arms as she fired. The water-encased dart screamed past Bela like a torpedo, the wave surrounding it moving faster and harder with each fraction of a second.
Bela forced the barrier into the Rakshasa’s chest, shaping its edges like a spreader.
The metal mesh armor separated, about an inch, only an inch—and Andy’s dart plunged through the hole she created, lancing into the Rakshasa’s chest.
The creature bellowed and grabbed for the dart, then seemed to freeze where it stood, immobilized. At the same moment, the two blue flames scattered through the air and retreated into the darkness.
Bela let the barrier collapse and fell toward her sword.
Have to cut off its head .
Her knees hit pavement hard enough to make her teeth rattle. Her palms scraped pavement. Her head swam, and her gulps of air didn’t seem to fill her lungs.
Have to get my sword before it pulls out that dart, or starts healing, or—
Her fingers closed on the hilt, but she couldn’t pick it up, couldn’t pick herself up.
Damnit!
The dart fired backward out of the Rakshasa’s chest, and the creature flung itself toward her, across where the barrier had been.
Andy shot the thing with the rest of her darts, one, two, three, all in the chest, missing the heart, and it kept coming. Water and wind slammed into its face, and still it was coming. Inches from her now. Leaning down. Reaching to snatch her off the ground.
Its mouth opened.
Fangs parted. Sulfurous spit dripped and sizzled on the pavement in front of Bela.
Goddess, the stink of it! Like a thousand rotten graves.
She retched as light flickered beside her, and she turned her head, hoping to see Camille with a blazing sword.
Instead she saw a man.
The shimmering ghostly outline of a man, golden and indistinct, except she thought he was wearing some kind of uniform.
Bela’s heart gave a wild pitch against her ribs. Time contracted, then expanded.
The apparition spread its arms as if to protect her, and when its fingers brushed across the top of her head, energy rushed into her. Cool. Familiar. Almost like her own earth power. Not enough to let her join the fight, but enough to help her lift her head—and her sword.
The Rakshasa hesitated and growled. It swiped its claws at the specter instead of cutting Bela to ribbons.
Bela rammed her blade straight into the thing’s chest. The sword tip glanced off hard bone, rattling her arms at the elbows, but she knew she’d hit her target because the demon stopped moving.
At the same second, Camille blasted through the golden phantasm sheltering Bela. It shattered into thousands of pieces of golden light. Camille screamed and swung her shamshir at the Rakshasa’s neck.
Flesh tore.
Demon bone cracked.
Bela felt impacts as the thing’s severed head knocked her sword out of her grip, bounced off her thigh, and tumbled away, taking her blade on a clattering roll across the pavement. She barely managed to pitch herself sideways, out of the way of a spray of black, stinking blood.
Camille screamed again, stuck out her bloody blade, and shot a torrent of flames at the rolling head. It exploded into fire and burned like ignited wax. She swung her sword around and scorched the body of the demon as it twitched on the pavement beside Bela.
The stink of ammonia gave way to the stench of burned leather and flesh and fur—and fried hair. Bela didn’t need to feel her face to know that her eyebrows were gone.
Again.
Her face mask was totally singed away, and her face was so hot it was probably
“To hell with this.” Andy dropped to one knee and aimed her pistol. Water sprayed down both arms as she fired. The water-encased dart screamed past Bela like a torpedo, the wave surrounding it moving faster and harder with each fraction of a second.
Bela forced the barrier into the Rakshasa’s chest, shaping its edges like a spreader.
The metal mesh armor separated, about an inch, only an inch—and Andy’s dart plunged through the hole she created, lancing into the Rakshasa’s chest.
The creature bellowed and grabbed for the dart, then seemed to freeze where it stood, immobilized. At the same moment, the two blue flames scattered through the air and retreated into the darkness.
Bela let the barrier collapse and fell toward her sword.
Have to cut off its head .
Her knees hit pavement hard enough to make her teeth rattle. Her palms scraped pavement. Her head swam, and her gulps of air didn’t seem to fill her lungs.
Have to get my sword before it pulls out that dart, or starts healing, or—
Her fingers closed on the hilt, but she couldn’t pick it up, couldn’t pick herself up.
Damnit!
The dart fired backward out of the Rakshasa’s chest, and the creature flung itself toward her, across where the barrier had been.
Andy shot the thing with the rest of her darts, one, two, three, all in the chest, missing the heart, and it kept coming. Water and wind slammed into its face, and still it was coming. Inches from her now. Leaning down. Reaching to snatch her off the ground.
Its mouth opened.
Fangs parted. Sulfurous spit dripped and sizzled on the pavement in front of Bela.
Goddess, the stink of it! Like a thousand rotten graves.
She retched as light flickered beside her, and she turned her head, hoping to see Camille with a blazing sword.
Instead she saw a man.
The shimmering ghostly outline of a man, golden and indistinct, except she thought he was wearing some kind of uniform.
Bela’s heart gave a wild pitch against her ribs. Time contracted, then expanded.
The apparition spread its arms as if to protect her, and when its fingers brushed across the top of her head, energy rushed into her. Cool. Familiar. Almost like her own earth power. Not enough to let her join the fight, but enough to help her lift her head—and her sword.
The Rakshasa hesitated and growled. It swiped its claws at the specter instead of cutting Bela to ribbons.
Bela rammed her blade straight into the thing’s chest. The sword tip glanced off hard bone, rattling her arms at the elbows, but she knew she’d hit her target because the demon stopped moving.
At the same second, Camille blasted through the golden phantasm sheltering Bela. It shattered into thousands of pieces of golden light. Camille screamed and swung her shamshir at the Rakshasa’s neck.
Flesh tore.
Demon bone cracked.
Bela felt impacts as the thing’s severed head knocked her sword out of her grip, bounced off her thigh, and tumbled away, taking her blade on a clattering roll across the pavement. She barely managed to pitch herself sideways, out of the way of a spray of black, stinking blood.
Camille screamed again, stuck out her bloody blade, and shot a torrent of flames at the rolling head. It exploded into fire and burned like ignited wax. She swung her sword around and scorched the body of the demon as it twitched on the pavement beside Bela.
The stink of ammonia gave way to the stench of burned leather and flesh and fur—and fried hair. Bela didn’t need to feel her face to know that her eyebrows were gone.
Again.
Her face mask was totally singed away, and her face was so hot it was probably
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