Demons. Aimee didn’t fight anything, let alone demons. She created devices at her workbench. Yet here she was, heart thudding and sweat dripping off the tip of her nose. What was I trying to prove?
She breathed deeply and peeled herself away from the wall. At the other end of the manor hall, she could see a body sprawled across the threshold of an open door. A pool of blood from the torn chest oozed down the grooves of the tiles. The lolled over head revealed the blank eyes of Gaston, a fellow Guard member. Aimee had never liked him much, but that seemed so unimportant now.
An odor hammered her senses, something between the scent of a wet dog and rotting flesh that threatened to make her retch. She forced herself to breathe through her mouth. From the opening behind Gaston, she heard wet crunching noises punctuated by a sort of snuffling.
Aimee struggled to gather her courage. Act as if, her mother always told her. Act as though she wasn’t terrified and maybe she’d find herself less afraid. Maybe.
Footsteps echoed on the tile behind her, startling her. She whipped around and almost roasted a knight of the Order with her self-named incinerator. Her device looked like nothing more than a foot long copper tube with a wooden handle, but it packed more energy than anything Aimee had ever created. The knight would never know how close a call he’d just had.
“Get out of here. This is a matter for the Order,” he commanded as he ran past, never taking his eyes from the doorway ahead.
This idiot might get us both killed. As if triggered by her thought, she heard a growl that made the glow globes in the hallway rattle. A second later, the beast burst out of the doorway, bounding over Gaston’s body and slipping on the pool of blood. It resembled a mammoth hound coated by bony plates with fur peeking out like grass between paving stones. Blood dripped from dagger-sized fangs.
Aimee brought up her weapon, she’d have only one chance.
The knight knocked her to the side as he charged. The monster lunged, slamming him into a wall. Wooden lath splintered and plaster poured down over the knight, who slumped to the floor. Through the fog of plaster dust, the beast turned its gaze upon her.
Aimee aimed at the demon’s head and willed her weapon to unleash its magic. Inside the handle, a specially designed matrix crystal released every bit of the pent up magical energy it possessed. A deafening thunderclap shook the walls and triggered another rain of dust. The noxious smell of burned fur and flesh filled the hallway as the beast lay dead before her. A vargat: until now something she’d seen only in illustrations. The pictures didn’t do it justice.
Aimee exhaled, only now realizing she’d been holding her breath. She trembled as the adrenaline drained and she sucked in gulps of air, relieved to be alive. Next time, I’m obeying the Captain’s orders.
She noticed the knight had failed to rise. He looked so still. With the hope he survived, she started toward him.
Before Aimee took more than a single step, a demon looking vaguely like a woman came through the doorway, passing the corpses of Gaston and the vargat. Straggly hair dangled around a face of bone white skin mottled with green, the color of mold. Its eyes—solid black with no whites—never blinked. The dark orbs hypnotized Aimee.
“Where is it?”
With her ears still ringing, the voice must be in her head. Aimee had no idea what the creature wanted.
“Where is it, Human?”
The voice intensified, boring deeper into her mind. The creature approached her, brandishing a jagged knife.
“Where is it, Aimee?”
The sound of her name brought Aimee around. She dropped her incinerator, useless with its energy expended. She gripped the hilt of her slim sword, as she tried to recall the training she never thought she’d need. She fumbled her grip, and the weapon clattered to the floor. The creature moved closer.
The demonic woman readied her knife to strike. “You are useless.”
Behind the creature, the knight stirred and struggled to his feet. He only needed another moment.
Aimee licked her lip. “I know someone who can tell you.”
The creature halted for a moment, long enough for the knight to regain his feet.
“You lie.” The demon slashed at her.
Aimee jumped to the side, the blade sliced fabric, but not flesh. The knight shook his head clear and charged. The demon turned toward him, but too late. He brought his sword down, cleaving its torso. Warm blood splattered across Aimee’s face and body.
The knight stepped over the demon’s remains. A foot taller, he loomed over Aimee. He brushed plaster-covered hair out of the way to reveal a scowl.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” he demanded.
That’s when Aimee threw up on the man’s boots.