“Here’s the story, proditori—ooh, that rhymed,” Aiden said, giggling, bouncing up and down like a kid about to go on the Ferris wheel—a kid brandishing deadly spikes, which he clapped together excitedly, making a waterfall of bright sparks rain down onto the floor.
“You surrender to me—and we don’t kill the little Traveler over there. Because right now, I’d love to see what her insides look like.” As he spoke, Della traced the tip of the knife along my cheek.
“We could maim her, though,” Della cooed, a hard edge under her babyish voice. “I don’t see why she shouldn’t have a scar like the one you gave me.” She pressed the tip of the blade into my cheekbone, and I felt the sharp sting of the metal as it pierced my skin, sending a warm, sticky stream of blood trailing down my face.
“Don’t you want to show the proditori how loud you can scream?” she wheedled, and I bit my lip against the cry building in my throat. Don’t give her the satisfaction, Paige. Don’t distract Logan. Do not scream.
“I said, don’t you want to scream?” Della taunted, dragging the knife lower, tearing at my skin, and a low cry forced its way from my lips at the searing pain in my cheek.
“Stop!” Logan shouted, his eyes darting between me and Aiden. They locked on mine—and were filled with anguish.
“No,” I mouthed—but Logan merely shook his head, his expression grave.
“Stop hurting her,” he demanded, glaring at Aiden. “She goes free, and we’ll have a deal.”
“Logan—isn’t that what you go by? Logan? Well, Logan, she won’t go free,” Aiden said. “Do you think I’m stupid, Logan? She can open gateways between the worlds! She’s valuable currency for me. I’m not letting this prize stay in warlock hands. But I’ll agree not to cause her further injury if you come with me.”
Della tapped the tip of the blade against the corner of my eye, using just enough pressure to cause pain without breaking the skin. My eyelashes fluttered against the bloodstained metal, which glinted in my peripheral vision.
“Aww, but hurting her is so much fun,” Della sulked, twirling the tip of the blade slowly as she held it against my skin. I winced, squeezing my eyes shut as I braced myself for the inevitable agony. “I’ve heard warlocks have healing medications. Can you replace an eyeball? Because I bet she’d look hilarious with an eye patch.”
“Stop it! You have a deal! I’ll—I’ll go with you,” Logan cried, his voice frantic over Aiden’s merry giggle.
“The Queen is going to be so impressed with me when I bring you two to the castle! About time that bitch acknowledged my worth,” Aiden spat, his words saturated with bitterness and resentment, before switching to a gleeful tone.
“I bet she’s got all sorts of torture planned for you, demonslayer. You’ve been getting in the way for far too long. She’ll probably flay you and wear your skin like a cape. Or maybe she’ll burn you alive. Imagine that—the little warlock warrior, his flesh melting away on the floor of the throne room. Such a pretty sight.”
He narrowed his violet eyes at Logan, his voice lethal. “Now drop your sword.”
The image of Logan tortured and burned—to save my life—ignited a spark of rage. And with it, another memory slowly bubbled to the surface, breaking through the final mental barriers that Della had built.
I focused on the rage, letting it fuel the fire as it built inside of me. I let the burn flash over my skin, the demon flames racing over my body as Della screamed in pain, dropping the knife to the floor.
I whipped my head back, the crown of my skull smashing into Della’s nose with an audible crunch. She clutched her nose and stumbled backward, knocking over a stool as puffs of ruby smoke billowed down her flame-pinked face. Della launched herself at me, shoving me backward with powdery red hands, and I slammed against the blackboard, sending bits of chalk to the floor, where they shattered with loud pops. I reached for my sword, weakly and wildly swiping it through the air between Della and me. She grabbed the nearest sheet music pedestal and held it up like a shield as I desperately swatted at her with wobbly, ineffective strikes, the little strength I had waning the more the portal expanded.
The jangled clang of metal striking metal echoed in the classroom, as Logan swung his sword at Aiden. The demon held his spikes in an X-formation, protecting himself as Logan relentlessly attacked, his sword a mere blur as Aiden deflected Logan’s unyielding strikes, the clashing metal sending a light dusting of blue sparks scattering across the floor.
“Dellica, let’s go!” Aiden ordered, his once-confident voice now laced with panic. She blindly threw the pedestal she had been cowering behind at me, and it missed me by a few feet and smashed against the wall, splintering into pieces. Della ducked behind Aiden as he shuffled backward under Logan’s assault until they were standing in front of the oval-shaped portal, which whirled and hummed with energy. Through it, a foggy version of the classroom appeared—with mottled gray walls instead of beige, where fat, buglike red creatures skittered across the surface. Della’s long hair blew backward, and a stack of sheet music swirled in the wind toward the hole—all being sucked in by the gateway’s vacuumlike force.
Aiden grunted, stumbling as he blocked a side blow, and Logan moved too quickly for Aiden to recover his defensive pose. Logan swung his sword upward as his deft fingers flipped the handle, forcing the blade to point down. Logan charged forward, plunging the sword down as Della grabbed the back of Aiden’s shirt. She yanked Aiden roughly, and he fell backward against Della—and Logan impaled the demon through his right shoulder instead of his heart.
The sword’s length ran through Aiden—stabbing Della in the stomach. Inhuman howls of agony echoed in the classroom as the blade turned black, then a shimmery pearlized pink rippling color. Della unleashed a guttural wail, her flawless face twisted in agony.
A dark stain began to spread from where the sword was embedded in Aiden’s chest, a deep purple color that was oddly pretty—considering it was the hue of demon blood. Aiden wailed again, his face morphing into something otherworldly. His eyebrows became more arched—slick black peaks over luminous violet eyes that seemed to glow in a graying face. His shoulders heaved with suffering as large wings sprouted behind him, diaphanous gray tissue and tendons stretched between shiny black bones that ripped through his white shirt, which fell off his body in tatters. His spikes crumbled in a row of sparks, revealing oversize gnarled gray claws—and Logan braced his foot against Aiden’s stomach, simultaneously pulling his sword out of the wound and kicking the demon back a few feet, where he stumbled over Della. She shuddered as she clutched her hands to her stomach, where crimson puffs of smoke seeped between her dusty red fingers.
Logan raised his sword again as Aiden reached into his pants pocket with trembling fingers and pulled out an oversize gold coin.
“Kill me or save her, proditori?” Aiden grunted, flinging the shimmering circle at me like he was tossing a Frisbee. I ducked as Logan ran toward me, grabbing me around the waist and knocking me onto the ground, just as whipping spines emerged from the spinning disk. Logan crouched above me as the thrashing razorlike spikes effortlessly sliced apart the chalkboard above us, sending jagged shards of black slate and splinters of wood and chunks of plaster raining down on Logan’s back.
“I will watch you die,” Aiden vowed, his flippant voice layered with a deep, unsettling growl.