Reaver by Larissa Ione Page A

stalactite
    hanging low from the cave ceiling. The other demons and their bear-toads charged into the cave, and
    suddenly the battle turned violent, bloody, and desperate. A blade came out of nowhere, spinning
    wildly through the air at Harvester’s head. Reaver flew upward in a flare of wings and knocked the
    sword away, but a crushing pain and tug on his leg brought him crashing down on top of the bear-toad
    clamped down on his calf.
    He kicked the bastard in the head, then jackknifed up and slammed his fist into its jaws to deliver a
    one-two punch of physical strength and angelic power. The animal released Reaver’s leg, its skull
    crumpling like an eggshell.
    Reaver didn’t have a chance to bask in victory. Across the poison pond, the demon Harvester had
    impaled with the Dragon Biter finally went down, but that still left her battling the remaining two
    demons with nothing but her fists and feet, which under normal circumstances wouldn’t be easy.
    Harvester’s weakened condition left her on the defense. The remaining bear-toad was in a full-out
    charge, her throat in its sights. She was holding her own, but barely, her graceful spins and leaps
    slowing with every move.
    One of the demons got in a lucky strike, nailing Harvester in the sternum. With a grunt, she crashed
    to the ground, only to be stomped on by the second demon.
    “Harvester!” Reaver bolted to his feet, ignoring the pain in his leg, and flicked a shower of drill
    sparks at the demons even as he took flight. He went for the closest target, the bear-toad, reversing
    course at the last second to drive both boots into its hindquarters. The creature flipped head over paws
    and splashed down in the poison pond.
    Reaver didn’t give the thing a glance. He went after the demons, who were now swatting at the
    sparks, but wait… why weren’t the fiery pinpricks drilling into their flesh?
    He got his answer when one of the sparks came at him. No longer pure spark, it had warped into a
    winged insect with a needlelike spike protruding from its eyeless face. Son of a bitch. Now he and
    Harvester had to battle not only the demons but whatever new hell had been bastardized by his magic.
    Extending his wings, he shot upward into the stalactites, drawing off a swarm of the sparks. The
    massive effort of flight down here slowed him as he flew toward the ceiling and at the last second, he
    banked hard and dove. The sparks spattered all over the rock like paintballs, leaving behind tiny wisps
    of sizzling smoke.
    He used his downward momentum to skim the ground and scoop up Harvester a millisecond before
    one of the demons brought a sledgehammer down on her head. She wrapped her arms around his neck
    and held on tight, her fiery skin burning against his.
    “Thank you.”
    Her barely audible words of gratitude astonished him so completely that he pitched forward and
    nearly did a header into the poison pool. He recovered just before he hit the dissolving body of the
    bear-toad, and in one seamless swoop, he dropped Harvester on her feet and slammed into a demon.
    They both tumbled like bowling pins into a pile of boulders.
    Reaver, panting with exhaustion, still managed to recover first and swipe the male’s sword.
    Spinning, he brought the blade down on the demon’s thick throat, severing its ugly head. He pivoted,
    ready to make a matching set of headless hellspawn, but midturn, a searing, biting agony ripped
    through his back.
    Muscles locked, he went down, catching a glimpse of a shiny black rope in the demon’s giant fist.
    What the hell? A whip that could paralyze an angel? Not good.
    In his frozen position he couldn’t see Harvester. The demon with the whip took off, leaving Reaver
    to stare at the ground, helpless to do anything but blink his eyelids.
    The sound of fighting rang out, the clang of metal on metal, grunts of pain, thuds of dull objects
    striking flesh. And finally, a splash and a scream.
    Harvester? He thought his pulse was racing and his