The Shadow Crosser (The Storm Runner 3)

“Because the statue is a reminder that demons are the real lords, superior to everyone.”

The taller godborn’s head jerked up. Our eyes met.

I was so focused on what was beyond the glass, I didn’t notice the reflection in the glass until it was too late.

Shining black eyes, a twisted smile, and murderous claws raised and ready.

Just as I snapped back, Ik’s talon slashed my cheek. I cried out. The pain was instant, the venom fast.

“Foolish, foolish boy,” Iktan tutted. “Never trust a demon.”

Fuego slipped from my grasp as my knees buckled. I collapsed and my head slammed into the concrete. The world slanted. Glass shattered. Agony ripped through me.

“Don’t blink, Zane,” Ik whispered in my ear. “The bat god is coming for you.”

And the last thing I saw before my eyelids closed was a shimmer in the air and the rush of familiar dark wings.

I heard a shuffle. Grunts, pounding footsteps. A store security alarm pierced the air.

And then I was lifted up, up, up. With a mighty struggle, I opened my eyes.

Brooks!

I would have pumped my fist if I could have felt my arms. But I was as floppy as a half-full garbage bag, and when she set me down on a rooftop, I crumpled in a heap of worthless pain. Stupid demons. Stupid venom.

Brooks kneeled next to me. Her expression was focused, intense. Scared.

Man, was I happy to see her. She’s the one you want by your side in life-or-death situations. She squeeeezed the wound, trying to drain the poison. Okay, I never said she was gentle.

I think I screamed. The venom raced through my blood fast and furious, like hot acid. My chest seized as if an iron fist were gripping my heart tighter and tighter.

“Zane!” she cried. “This isn’t working. You have to burn it out!”

My words came out in a slur. “Ik…traitor…godbor…” I tried to roll over, but my arms and legs weren’t getting the message, and to be honest, I was having trouble breathing. Little black dots danced in my vision.

Brooks grasped my head, forcing me to look into her fierce amber eyes as she shook me. “Are you listening?! Start a fire to burn it out of your system. It’s the only way!”

Listen to the nawal.

I did a mental double take. That was the voice of Itzamna, the glittering god, in my head. Was he here?

Do it now, Zane!

I reached for the heat inside me, the flames that were as much a part of me as my beating heart. The poison sped up, shredding my insides.

Fire. Fire. Come on!

It’s terrifying to sense your life slipping away. I’d felt something similar when I’d fought Ah-Puch, the god of death, but that moment had been big and loud and filled with do-or-die adrenaline. This was different. This time I was battling a silent, invisible monster racing through my blood. It wasn’t quite as big-screen epic. Plus, who wants to die on a rooftop in Hell’s Kitchen?

I concentrated with what little part of my brain was still working. Just when I thought the poison was about to pull me under for good, I heard Itzamna’s voice again:

Listen, Storm Runner, unless you want this to be the end of the story, you really need to start a fire. Do I need to provide the match, too?

I reached for the power in my Storm Runner leg. I sensed a flicker and then…

“ZANE!” Brooks shouted.

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