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“Predictable, Gordon,” cooed Lilith as she drifted to stand a mere foot from Isobel and Varen, those black eyes turning down on them both, “but a commendable decision, all the same.”
A flash of bright white sparked from overhead. Isobel looked up to see Reynolds raise his arm.
The opal embedded in the hamsa glinted again as Reynolds reared back with his blade as if preparing to—
“Get down,” Isobel heard Varen snap the second before he yanked her to the floor with him.
Singing high, Reynolds’s sword sailed over their heads, spinning handle over tip as it spiraled straight toward—and then into—the center of Lilith’s chest.
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Impaled, the demon arched her back.
A beat of silence pulsed.
Then, with head thrown back, Lilith emitted a low and grating croak.
The demon grabbed for the blade, trying to wrench free the sword sunk deep in her chest. Upon contact with the metal, however, her hands shriveled and crumbled, flaking to nothing.
The croaking became a choked wail as ink bubbled up from her mouth. Spilling over in streams, dark liquid fell to splatter the floor.
Isobel flinched when she felt droplets sprinkle her face. Transfixed by the horror unfolding in front of her, though, she could not tear her gaze away. Not even as Lilith’s head lolled forward, sending forth more of the black bile to pool at her taloned feet.
Isobel felt Varen shift at her side. Edging backward, he pulled her with him, away from the expanding bath of blackness.
Lifting her streaming chin, Lilith glared after them through the wild mesh of her hair, focusing her bleeding black eye sockets on Isobel.
“You,” Lilith gurgled, taking one jerky step after them, then another. “Yooouuuu.”
Varen tugged harder, sliding them both along the smooth marble.
Though Isobel heard him say her name, she couldn’t shake herself from the trance induced by the depth of those two empty hollows. Her mind remained fixed on the demon, who, faltering with her next step, collapsed to the floor, soaked veils slapping the marble.
“I will fiiinnd you,” rasped the demon, her haggard voice dropping low, going guttural. “Rot your heart before your own eyes.”
Still Lilith continued to advance on them, using elbows to drag herself forward. The sound of the sword hilt scraping stone sent spikes of terror through Isobel’s gut, but still she could not snap herself out of her spellbound stare. Not until a pair of white-spattered boots stepped in front of her, blocking her view.
“Go,” came Reynolds’s voice. “Through the blue doors. For now, the worlds blend and part at your whim. Use it to your advantage. Go somewhere safe. Somewhere hidden.”
Isobel blinked up at the tall figure standing over them.
But Reynolds’s piercing stare was not aimed at her. And neither was his command.
Rising, Varen brought Isobel to her feet.
“W-wait,” Isobel murmured through numb lips, but Reynolds had already turned toward Lilith.
Taking Isobel’s hand, Varen tugged her in the opposite direction.
“Wait,” Isobel repeated, louder this time, and she wondered why neither of them seemed to have heard her. Or were they choosing not to listen?
Before Varen could drag her any farther away, Isobel snagged Reynolds’s sleeve.
“Come with us,” she managed to blurt when his head snapped toward her.
Reynolds glared sternly at Varen, ignoring Isobel altogether. “Keep her safe,” he said. “I have bought us only time. And precious little at that.”
