The Spirit Seducer

Chapter 3

The air around me crackled, like an oncoming thunderstorm. The energy built until my ears popped. The pressure plummeted. The air nearby shimmered like a heat wave. I pressed against Layla, who whispered a thank-you I barely heard.

A man stepped from a black space. Out of nothing. That wasn't possible. Somehow, I managed to close my lips and seal in the building hysteria. Nothing that had happened in the past ten minutes was possible. Not one thing.

At least a foot taller than me, the man was dressed in armor that appeared to be mostly leather, a long sword sheathed at his side, the top of a spear visible over his shoulder. His profile was unyielding, his eyes narrowed under thick, dark brows. His aura was darker than any of the others—a rich ebony.

My first instinct was to run to him and fling myself into his arms. Arms I knew would wrap tight around my waist. As if he'd done it before.

But that wasn't possible. I didn't hug strangers.

My head began to pound harder, and my brain nibbled at the edges of itself. This man looked familiar.

He pulled his spear free—a long, wooden shaft topped with a wicked, dark blade.

I gasped, my left hand dropping to my roiling stomach, my eyes devouring the weapon. I'd seen it before. Many times. In my dreams.

"Thank the gods you heard," Layla whispered. "We need to get Echo out of here."

The guy swiftly glanced over at us, his gaze taking in what had to be my pained expression.

"My mom," I whispered. He couldn't have heard me over the noise, but his eyes softened. He nodded and lunged forward at the warriors who stood between him and my mother. He slammed his spear into one, and a long-bladed knife I hadn't seen him palm into another.

The two warriors folded in on themselves, their gurgles of pain lessening as they exploded into ethereal flotsam that shimmered just like the cloud.

Those warriors with Coyote weren't human.

"What are they?" I asked.

"Demons," Layla replied, her voice as breathless as mine. "It's okay though. Zeke can handle them."

The man Layla referred to as Zeke slashed through the chest of a third fighter while another tried to slide around behind him. Zeke slammed his elbow back, catching the warrior in his chin, and he skittered backward, slamming into the fence near us.

Blood dripped from the demon's mouth, his jaw hung from an awkward angle. My eyes darted back to Zeke, who continued to work his way through the demon-soldiers with a methodical and lethal grace. His movements so perfectly choreographed that the inhuman warriors appeared clumsy and slow.

Mom screeched as one of the warriors grabbed her. She snatched up one of the glass pitchers of tea and slammed it into the demon's face. He staggered back into another warrior. I yanked, but Layla's firm grip kept me from leaping to her defense.

"You can't, E. She made me swear."

The beautiful birthday cake my mother had made and the other pitcher of iced tea fell from the table, forming a sticky mess across the concrete floor. Four of the warriors darted forward, outside of Zeke's reach. They surrounded my mother and Coyote, who'd crossed his arms over his chest and watched the fight with burning eyes.

Zeke shoved his spear into one of the warriors, who shrieked, high and horrible, before he, too, shattered into bits of glittering dust.

My mom's mouth screwed up with fear as a soldier rushed forward. Mom swung her pendant, which was now wrapped around her wrist, the metal chain clutched in her fist. She caught the warrior across his jaw. His face morphed into that of a cat as he snarled in pain, backing away. A deep laceration lay open and pink on his muzzle.