Chase the Dark by Annette Marie

waited for them but Ash wasn’t slowing.
    His hand snapped outward, another flash of light, a massive boom. They burst out the brand new hole in the wall in a rush of cool night air and flying debris. They soared out over the road, three stories up, but they didn’t fall. Somehow, they glided easily in a wide curve toward the ground. As they touched down, Piper looked over her shoulder and saw giant, graceful, leathery black wings folding neatly as they pulled in toward Ash’s back. She blinked and they were gone.
    She wrenched away from him and spun around, but he was already shimmering back into glamour.
    A small shape flew out of the darkness and Zwi landed on Ash’s shoulder, chittering franticly. Piper watched the little dragonet’s wings fold up until they lay flat on the creature’s back, miniature versions of her master’s hidden appendages.
    Zwi made another chattering sound and turned to glare at Piper. She blinked. Then Ash slowly sank to his knees, shoulders slumping. Zwi flapped her wings and chirped wildly, clutching his shoulder. Piper jumped forward and dropped to a crouch in front of him, grabbing his shoulders and almost knocking Zwi off him.
    “Ash? Ash, are you okay?”
    He looked up, unfocused and listing to one side. “Ummm,” he breathed. “Probably not. Didn’t go so well.”
    Piper pulled his arm over her shoulder and looked him over. His damn black t-shirt disguised the fact he was bleeding—a lot. Again. Couldn’t this guy go three days without nearly dying?
    “Come on, get up,” she coaxed. “We have to get off the street. Lyre is waiting for us.”
    “Mmm,” he mumbled incoherently, but with her help he managed to get to his feet again. He leaned on her as they staggered toward the alley. Zwi jumped off his shoulder and flew ahead, her black scales making her invisible in seconds. Ash breathed heavily and limped with each step. His blood was soaking her shirt. Another deadly fight like with the choronzon. Once again, he’d made it out barely walking. She glared up the alley, nursing her fury as more of Ash’s blood ran down her side. If she didn’t stay angry, she would panic. He was hurt. Really hurt.
    “Piper,” a voice hissed. Lyre appeared from the gloom, Zwi hanging off his shoulder. “Shit! Ash!”
    He ducked under Ash’s other arm, and together they hauled him down the alley, down a few more, and ducked into an abandoned garage. Piper pushed the rotting door closed and shoved a shelving unit in front of it, then hurried to where Lyre was helping Ash sit against a wall. Zwi keened in a tiny, panicky voice, shivering against her owner’s side. The incubus cupped his hands and a small blue light appeared. He pushed it into the air and let it go. It hung there like a tiny moon.
    Ash was breathing hard, staring at nothing. “Ow . . .” he whispered.
    Piper and Lyre exchanged frightened looks. He grabbed Ash’s cheap t-shirt and ripped it up the side. Piper gasped.
    Ash had been gored. His stomach was a bloody mess like he’d been raked across the belly with a gardening claw. Blood was all over him. Neither she nor Lyre could do a damn thing for a wound like that. He needed surgery to put his insides back inside him.
    “What . . . what . . . ” Lyre’s hands fluttered over the wreckage of Ash’s stomach, not daring to touch.
    “Two daemons were waiting for us,” Piper whimpered. With nothing else to do, she balled up the torn shirt and pressed it against the wound—
    as if that would help. He’d merely die a little less quickly. “One was a minotaur.”
    “Fucking animal,” Ash muttered. His eyes rolled toward Lyre, feverish bright and dull at the same time. “Ripped his fucking head off.”
    Piper blinked, wondering if he was remembering the fight right.
    “What about the second one?” Lyre whispered.
    “Cottus, the bastard,” Ash mumbled. “Got me when I killed Henoces before he could . . . go after Piper again . . .”
    Lyre