Into the Tiger's Hour

Chapter Fourteen {Content Warning}

It was agony, the hands around his neck, and he could scarcely hear the screaming as his head hit the ground again and again. Vision blurring, Betre couldn't quite make out what he was seeing, only that there was dark, haloed by light, and he could smell burning wood and pine trees. Thumbs shifted, dug into his throat and the pressure increased to a new level of searing pain. He struggled briefly but there was too much rage weighing him down, too much betrayal in the eyes that were wild, mindless, mad with agony.

Another sharp jolt made his body scream for air, but he couldn't get it past the hands wrapped around his throat. Flares of black were blooming across his vision, interspersed with white sparks, and Betre tried to lift a hand only to find that his body was largely unresponsive.

Something struck them both, knocked them sideways, and all Betre could hear was the pleading of his lungs as he struggled to get air in through his swollen, nearly crushed throat. Instinct brought him up onto his hands and knees; he jerked, heaving for breath, and the first sweet trickle of air that made it down to his lungs was turned to acid as he had to breathe it back out.

A broad, heavy hand patted his back, stroked his spine and then powerful arms were pulling him upright. "Let me see, let me see," Ax said, pulling Betre's hands away from his throat. Jonas lay behind him, now dazed and unable to rise.

With the other demon's hands on his throat, Betre nearly broke all bounds of control, but Ax wasn't squeezing. His eyes gleamed coal-red, a vivid light against the National Forest's velvety darkness, and when he took his hands away, Betre was able to get a full breath. He panted then, gulping air down as quickly as he could only to exhale in harsh gusts. The first thing he noticed were the grass stains on his tan slacks.

The second thing was that Jonas Foster was getting back up, murder written clearly in his eyes.

Ax dove forward, guardian angel indeed, and got between them, got his arms around Jonas before the man could hurl himself forward. "Jonas, no! No! You can't! Calm down! Calm down!"

"WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS SHE, YOU FUCKING LYING SON OF A BITCH?! YOU FUCKING TOLD ME THIS WOULD WORK! DID YOU LIE TO ME? DID YOU LIE TO ME?!"

"...Jonas..." It hurt to talk, although the pain was fading now. Not enough for Betre to reach for the cigarillos in his pocket--likely crushed by the force of the tackle that had taken him to the ground--but enough that he could swallow. The flask was undamaged; he opened it and gulped the fiery liquid within, coughed as it burned all the way down. But it stiffened his spine and Betre began painstakingly collecting his composure. "Jonas, calm down. It did work."

The golden light in Jonas's eyes, emanating from the gold threads that marked him as a willworker, was dying, and Betre knew the man wasn't even paying attention. He was so fixated on getting to Betre that he very nearly managed to move forward, even with Ax hanging onto his arms. "Did you fucking lie to me?"

"I did not lie to you." And strangely enough, that was the truth. Betre had no compunction about saying it as he met Jonas's eyes, examined the hurt, the confusion and the rage all boiling together. "Your summoning was as perfect as I've ever seen it done. She is no longer dead, Jonas Foster. She is amongst the living once more."

"THEN WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?!"

"Oh, that?" He could afford a moment of cruelty with Ax holding the former death mage captive. "That I don't know."

Jonas's roar was wordless and echoed off of the trees loudly enough to cause a wolf to howl some distance away. He lunged against Ax's grip, struggled wildly in his attempt to escape, and threw his head back, nearly hitting the other demon in the nose.