Shadowed by Demons, Book 3 of the Death Wizard Chronicles by Jim Melvin

expression slowly change; once the man got over his anger, fear took its place. He shuffled across the street toward another tavern, pounding on the door and begging for someone to open it.
    Rakkhati pointed above the man’s head to a dark shape creeping along the wall on all fours like a lizard. It got within a cubit of the man and started to reach out a long arm, but the door swung open just in time for him to leap inside, oblivious to how close he had come to being a vampire’s late-night meal.
    Torg felt Laylah shiver beside him, but she knew enough to remain silent. The vampire stayed above the door for a few moments before skittering off. Torg watched it creep into another alleyway and disappear. Laylah let out a long breath.
    When Torg looked back at Rakkhati, he saw that the Jivitan’s eyes were wide with horror.
    It must be frightening to be so near such monsters when you can’t match their power.
    Torg was comforted that Ugga and Bard would be with the others when Bonny led them from the inn. Though they wielded no blatant magic, Torg believed that their bodies were imbued with supernatural strength. And they would need every bit of it. Torg doubted Rathburt would perform well under duress. The battle with the black mountain wolves had nearly done him in, and there were creatures in Duccarita more dangerous than wolves.
    Torg, Laylah, and Rakkhati went on for more than a mile.
    Each wooden building resembled the other. Torg couldn’t tell an inn from a tavern, or a shop from a house. Occasionally, a warped plank would creak beneath their feet, betraying their whereabouts to anyone or anything nearby. But for whatever reason, they were never challenged and saw no other beings. Eventually the street narrowed, and torches no longer lighted it, but the gibbous moon shone brightly. The buildings now lining the street were more decrepit than the previous ones. Most of the doors and shutters were broken, and no lights came from inside.
    Rakkhati seemed even more apprehensive than before.
    Without warning, a dark shape lumbered out of an alley and headed right for them, snorting and slavering. Rakkhati flattened himself against the nearest wall and slid down to a seated position, though the creature had appeared not to see them.
    Torg recognized it as an ogress, at least seven cubits tall. Ogresses, being distantly related to Kojins, were far larger than their male counterparts. They also were mean-spirited and dull-witted. Torg was more concerned about the noise it might make than any danger it presented to him.
    All three knelt in the shadows, hoping it would pass without detecting them, but at the last moment it stopped, sniffed the air, and turned in their direction.
    It smells Rakkhati’s fear , Torg thought, before springing forward and beheading the beast with a single stroke of the Silver Sword. Blood as black as tar squirted from its neck, splashing down like a sudden burst of rain. The beast’s bulbous head fell like a stone; the rest of its huge body followed. Torg picked up the head by its scraggly hair and tossed it inside one of the open doors. Then he dragged the heavy carcass into the shadows.
    Rakkhati remained against the wall, still trembling. Torg knelt beside him and exhaled. Blue-green vapor oozed from his nose and crept into the Jivitan’s nostrils. Soon after, Rakkhati was able to stand. Torg turned to Laylah to see how she was holding up. The sorceress looked alert but unafraid. His respect for her swelled another notch. She seemed to see it in his face and smiled.
    They heard a shuffling sound on the roof of one of the porches. Rakkhati waved for them to follow and then darted away. Fifty paces later they stopped and spun around. From this distance they could see only a vague outline of the ogress’ carcass, but they could make out several dark shapes swarming around it, accompanied by tearing and slurping sounds. The vampires had come to feed. Torg was disgusted, but at the same time