Zoe Archer - Sinner’s Heart

After a final sneering glance, the Devil snapped his fingers and vanished. He would be back—of that, Bram was certain.

Bram now turned to Livia.

She nodded toward the Hellraisers. “Your troops await your orders.”

Livia had seen Bram as a soldier and off icer—in his memories. Now, she saw him assume that role once more. The mantle of authority settled easily across his wide shoulders. He swung back up into the saddle, fluid, and brought his skittish horse around so that he faced the Hellraisers.

His expression was steely, betraying nothing.

“Leo, you’ll take the slithering demons, the things that crawl. Anne, use your command of air to beat back the winged creatures. Throw them to the ground and Leo can finish them.” He turned to Whit and Zora. “The demons with hooves and those that walk on two feet, they’re your responsibility. Cut them down.”

Livia could not tear her gaze from him as he gestured with his sword. It was clear he expected obedience, assured in his judgment. His friends nodded, accepting his directives without question.

This is what Bram was always meant to do. If he held any trepidation, any uncertainty, he did not reveal it. The sharp angles of his face held confidence, and his long, muscled body seemed coiled to strike.

All the while, the enemy across the field snarled in readiness. John shouted orders to the demons.

Every part of Livia tensed. All of this had come to pass because of her greed for power. Now the war to end everything awaited.

Never before had she been in actual battle, moments away from plunging headlong into full combat. She had come to the aid of Leo and Anne as they fought a band of attacking demons, but this—over a hundred hellspawn beasts waiting to bring down the wrath of the Dark One, creatures growling and rattling their weapons, eager for blood—this was an unknown realm.

One that might well see her and Bram dead, and the world horribly transformed.

She watched him now, a man not only at the height of his physical strength but also the strength of his heart, his will. He had changed utterly from the dissipated rogue she once knew, yet the core of him, shadowed and edged, that remained constant.

And she loved him for it.

The thought struck her like a blade of fire.

A fine time for revelations.

She gave an inward, mocking smile. Yet she fooled no one, least of all herself.

All her years, all the knowledge she possessed, the cynical wisdom that sheltered her, all of it fell away. Watching Bram now prepare his army of six, she felt herself engulfed in emotion. He had won her, in every way.

She could not speak of this. Not now. So she kept the knowledge of her love close, a hoarded, feared treasure, as dangerous as it was valuable.

“What of you and Livia?” Whit asked.

“We head the charge.” His gaze held hers, and her heart stuttered. “I need you at my side.”

“The only place I want,” she answered.

He brought his horse alongside hers so the flanks nearly touched. With a single, direct movement, he leaned close, cupping the back of her head. Then kissed her. A greedy, demanding kiss, his mouth hot, his need like flame. She gave as she received, just as eager, just as ravenous. This kiss might have to last the rest of her life, however short that might be, and into eternity.

For all her vows to keep her newly discovered love to herself, he must have felt it in her kiss, for he pulled back enough to stare into her eyes.

“This is not the end,” he said, low and fierce.

“We shall prevail,” she whispered back. Even if she did not truly believe they could defeat the Dark One and his army, she had to cling to hope.

The blue fire in his gaze flared. He kissed her once more, and she clutched at his shoulders, holding him as tightly as these last moments would allow.

They broke apart. It felt as though the world itself had been torn in two.

Needing something to stop the pain, she glanced over at their fellow Hellraisers. Her heart contracted once more as she saw both couples—Whit and Zora, Leo and Anne—locked in their own passionate, fraught kisses. The final communion before battle. With equal shows of reluctance, the couples broke apart.

At last, there could be no further delay. The moment had arrived.

Everyone took up their positions. Across the field, John broke off from his chanting to order the demons into rough groups. As though they were indeed an army.

Time slowed to mark each second, each breath and heartbeat. She had dwelled in a state of endless time, believing it would stretch on without cessation, that one moment was no different from the next.

That had changed. An entire kingdom resided within every inhalation. The world shifted with every exhalation.

She knew love. Recognized it just in time to have it ripped away. Perhaps. They might yet survive, she and Bram. They might win.

Yet she strongly doubted it.

“Charge!” screamed John.

“For the world’s souls!” Bram shouted.

The battle had begun.

* * *

The Hellraisers and demons thundered toward one another. The ground shook, and the sky itself seemed to tremble.

Closer and closer drew the enemy. Moonlight glinted on their weapons, their claws and fangs and wings.

Livia did not feel fear. Only quiet, deadly purpose.

A sound like Armageddon crashed over the field as the two sides met. Demon and Hellraisers clashed. Everything became chaos. Movement and noise.

Livia pulled fire from herself, summoning the magic of every warrior goddess she knew. Minerva, Morrigan, Artemis. She felt their power suffuse her, her body alight with energy, as though flame had replaced muscle and bone. As demons advanced, she lashed out, fiery bolts of power coursing from her free hand, the other hand holding her mount’s reins. Beasts screamed and fell, their limbs severed, holes blasted into their bodies, whilst others pushed in.

She fought to keep her horse controlled, thick swarms of foul creatures on every side. The air stank of sulfur and carrion.

She caught brief glimpses of the other Hellraisers locked in combat. Zora lashed out with a whip of fire, turning long-legged bloated demons to ash. Whit’s sword was likewise engulfed in flame, and he used it to hack down centaur-like beasts. The force of Leo’s blows sent the slithering demons scattering like leaves, and Anne used her power over air to batter at the winged beasts. She dashed them to the ground, where they lay unmoving, or else Leo would rush up and pummel the creatures until they went still.

All of the Hellraisers fought well, their faces hard with fierce determination. But none possessed Bram’s skill and art. Atop his horse, he never broke stride as his lightning-swathed blade tore through clawed demons. He cut the heads off two leather-skinned creatures and kicked away a third, then slammed the pommel of his sword into another’s temple. But his goal was clear—he fought his way toward John.

Bram was straight from the legends and myths of her time, one of the fabled warriors who founded dynasties and remade the world. He fought with brutality and purpose, and only by force was she able to turn her gaze away from him to battle back more of the demons.

A scream sounded overhead. She ducked as one of the flying demons dove for her, its grasping claws attempting to pull her from the saddle. Red pain blossomed. Using her fingers, she felt a long gouge stretching from her shoulders to the middle of her back. Her fingertips came away stained with blood.

The demon made another dive. She called for Minerva’s Shield, and the creature slammed into it before careening away. The impact unbalanced her. A dizzying, tilting moment, and she found herself on the ground. Panicked, her horse galloped away, pushing through the clashing armies.

“Livia!” Bram’s roar rose above the din.

She stood. Without her horse to raise her up, she was in the thick of the battle, demons surging around her. She crouched low to avoid a demon’s swinging blade. As she did, she cut its legs out from underneath with a flare of ancient Akkadian magic. The beast toppled to the ground, and she leapt onto it and slammed the blade of energy into the center of its chest. It screamed, then went still, eyes glassy as it stared up at the night sky.

With Minerva’s shield on one arm and the edged Akkadian spell in her other hand, she fought off more demons, wave after wave of the awful beasts.

“Livia!” Bram shouted again. As she battled back more demons, she looked for him.

He pushed his horse through the throng toward her, his brows drawn down in a savage scowl. Baring his teeth, he hacked down any demon standing between her and him. Resolute, ferocious, he carved a path to her.

Then he was in front of Livia, one broad hand reaching for her. She took his offered hand, and he lifted her up in a swift motion. Seating herself behind him, she saw the field of battle from a better vantage. The Hellraisers had managed to carve paths of destruction out of the demons’ ranks.

Bram glanced down and saw the beasts she had felled on her own. He gave her a vicious smile. “Lucky we’re on the same side.”

She struck out with a spell just as a demon charged. At the same time, Bram stabbed the creature through the throat. Hardly anything was left of the beast as it fell to the ground. “We didn’t start out that way, but it was meant to be. Besides,” she added with her own cutting grin, “no one of sense will have us.”

There was no further opportunity for conversation. Though a goodly number of the demons in this arena of the battle had fallen, many still stood.

John, too distracted by the battle to summon more demons up from Hell, hoarsely shouted orders at the creatures that had made it above ground. He kept casting alarmed glances at Bram.

“There’s my target,” Bram growled. He urged his horse toward John, but more demons blocked the way. He hacked at scaled arms that tried to pull him from the saddle, and she drove her own magic blade into the throats of two-headed, four-legged monsters.

The Hellraisers briefly converged.

“Report,” Bram commanded.

“Took out two dozen of those slithering bastards.” A trickle of blood dripped in the corner of Leo’s mouth, and he wiped it onto the sleeve of his torn coat.

“A third of those flying things have been thrown halfway to Portugal,” Anne added, looking windblown.

“Zora’s turned a score of demons to ash,” Whit said. A rip along the sleeve of his coat revealed a long, shallow cut.

“And Whit’s carved twenty into nothing but meat,” said Zora. Ash streaked the hem of her skirts.

Something was missing. Someone. Livia scanned the ranks of the demons. Chaos reigned, yet she finally grasped the crucial element.

“Where is John?”

Bram gazed at the ongoing battle. He cursed.

John was nowhere to be seen. Rather than be comforted by this, panic gnawed at Livia. An unseen enemy was even more dangerous than a visible one.

“There.” Bram pointed to the tree line, where the woods abutted the field. John, on foot, ran into the forest.

Livia knew better than to mistake it for a retreat. A regrouping, perhaps, but not a retreat. Whatever he intended, it meant certain disaster.

She wrapped her arms tightly around his narrow waist. “You know what we must do.”

“Aye,” he answered, grim. “And I’m eager for it.”

“Go,” said Whit. “We’ll hold this end.”

Pressing his heels into his horse’s sides, Bram urged the animal to give chase. Livia and Bram raced away from the demon-choked field of combat. Death and danger were everywhere. Yet the true threat lay not on the battlefield but up ahead in the trees. The sounds of combat faded as she and Bram plunged into the dark forest in pursuit of their enemy.

Trouble, almost at once. The trees grew too thick and close to pursue on horseback. Only a moment earlier, there had been more than enough room for a horse and riders. Now they crowded in on every side. It had to be John’s doing. No choice but to dismount and follow on foot.

Bram kept ahead of Livia, the stride of his long legs twice the length of her own. And she was not as accustomed to running as he. She cursed herself as she fell behind, her body already weary and taxed from the battle.