“Demons,” I said when I spotted their dark gray skin. Good. I hated fighting other supernaturals because I was scared I might kill them and take their power. Demons didn’t really die, so they couldn’t transfer power.
These looked a lot like the one that had called me a FireSoul, but most species of demons had gray skin. There wasn’t a sun in most of the hells. I’d wait to see if they threw smoke before I got nervous.
I glanced at Aidan. “Leave one alive?”
“Yes. I want to know why the hell they’re here.”
I pulled my daggers from their sheaths and charged into the fray, toward a tall demon grappling with a monk. I wanted to throw Righty, but they were moving too quickly. Nailing a man of God with my dagger sounded like a bad idea.
I jumped onto a bench and launched myself off of it, crashing down on top of them. I shoved the monk out of the way with my foot and plunged Righty into the demon’s left shoulder. He roared, his ugly face twisting in pain.
Agony seared my side and stole my breath. Warm blood soaked into my clothes. I assumed he’d swiped me with a knife but didn’t look. His fist crashed down on my back, a punishing blow that sent pain radiating through my body.
That was why I liked to throw my knives.
I grabbed one of the demon’s horns, pressing his head back onto the stone floor and stabbing him in the throat with my other knife.
Warm blood sprayed my face and I gagged.
Ugh. The worst. I scrambled off the demon. A second later, he strangled in his last breath. He’d disappear soon, his body returning to its hell. With my sleeve, I scrubbed some of the blood from around my eyes, then bent down to snag Righty, which protruded from his shoulder. Pain sang through me from the demon’s blows. I glanced at my side and saw a long gash along my ribs. My back ached. Felt like a few broken ribs, damn it.
At least he hadn’t gotten his blade between them. I was going to live, so I considered it a win.
A demon shrieked and I spun, startled by the sound of fear. Demons were never afraid. They were single-minded, inhuman in their desire to accomplish their goals. Fear didn’t usually affect them. It was one of the main reasons they were used as minions to guard treasure or to carry out evil deeds.
“Holy hell,” I breathed.
An enormous griffon stood at the side of the room, twice as big as a lion. It was beautiful, if you didn’t mind being terrified. Enormous wings stretched out from its powerful back, arching up over a massive, leonine body. Its head was almost birdlike, but that was no delicate beak. It could pick up cows with that thing.
Where the hell had it come from? I glanced around.
Aidan was gone.
Oh, hell no.
But of course. That was Aidan. My sidekick was a freaking griffon. Though if he was a griffon, I was probably the sidekick in this situation.
Beast-Aidan launched himself off the floor and leapt upon two demons, grabbing each in a powerful front claw and smashing them against the ground.
Since it seemed Aidan had that side of the room well taken care of, I spun and eyed the other side. A demon was shaking a monk by his robe, demanding, “Where is it?”
The monk babbled in Irish, seeming unable to understand English.
Rage seethed in my chest. I didn’t like bullies. This was the demon I’d save for questioning. I couldn’t be sure the griffon would keep any alive.
I pushed aside the pain that throbbed at my back and side and charged the demon, flinging Righty as I ran. It sank into his arm. The demon grunted and looked up at me, then glanced around at the carnage Aidan and I had wrought. Only one of its brethren remained.
Nope, none. Aidan had ripped its head off with his beak. The head bounced across the stone before finally disappearing. I swallowed bile and looked at the remaining demon.
His eyes widened. I lunged at him, tackling him to the ground. He was enormous and sweaty beneath me.
When I opened my mouth to demand why he was there, something huge and golden flew in front of my face and slammed into the demon’s head. I surged backwards as blood sprayed. Panting, I looked up at the monk who’d slammed an enormous ornamental candlestick onto the demon’s skull.
The monk grinned proudly at me and said in Irish, “I saved you, lass. Sent that demon straight back to hell!”
Damn it. That was the last one we could have questioned.
“Uh, thank you,” I said in Irish. I didn’t want to piss off the monk who could give me answers about the scroll. And he was so proud of himself that I didn’t have the heart.
Strong arms pulled me up. Shock sent my heart slamming into my ribs. Was there another demon still alive? I lashed out with Righty. Aidan caught my arm, the blade an inch from his face. I stepped back, breathing hard. He was human again, dressed in the same clothes.
“Are they all dead?” I sheathed Righty and Lefty. The adrenaline of the fight faded, and pain seared through me again. I pressed my arm to the wound in my side, wincing.
“Yes.” Aidan glanced at my arm. “Are you all right?”
“I’m okay.” At least, I thought I was. “Mostly I’m pissed we didn’t keep one alive. I want to know why they were here.”
“Me too. Though if I had to guess, it might have been for the scroll.” He touched my arm, the one that was covering my wound. “Let me see that.”
“Later,” I said as I turned back to the monk who’d crushed the last demon’s skull.
Three other monks approached us. All were breathing heavily, fear in their eyes.