The tide had turned after the warrior fae had joined them. Soon, only one demon remained standing, its great horned head and small black eyes homed in on Charity.
“Lucifer wishes to see you,” the creature managed through a mouthful of pointed teeth.
“Lucifer can kiss my ass.” Charity slashed down on its reaching hand, severing it at the elbow. It screeched, but she didn’t slow. She lunged forward, sword swinging, and sliced its side. She reached out with her palm, pumping out a surge of magic that brought Devon to his knees. The demon flew backward, somersaulting in the air. Before hitting the ground ten feet from the elves, it exploded, spraying the silent observers in blood and guts.
The warrior fae all cowered, their hands thrown up, but not to ward off the guts. To ward off the debilitating sting of Charity’s magic. They straightened, wide-eyed. They clearly didn’t recognize her magic.
Charity dropped her sword, stared at the remnants of the demon for a moment, then fell bonelessly to the ground.
“Charity!” Devon hadn’t even meant to change. But the next thing he knew, he was lifting her into his arms. “Charity.” He bent over her and squeezed his eyes shut, drawing her pain into himself. Cocooning her with his magic.
“Don’t just stand there, help her!” Cole boomed, having also changed.
A wave of magic rolled over Devon, sweet and blissful. A song rose into the air and was carried on the breeze, playful and exciting, the call of the hunt.
“What is this strange magic that flirts with ours?” a man said, stopping beside Devon and Charity and looking down on them.
“How about you talk less and help more?” Steve strode up, nude, bloody, and ready to keep fighting.
The man, barely older than twenty yet arrogant as a king, turned to Steve. He didn’t say a word, and even so, his sentiment was clearly conveyed. Your opinion is not warranted here. Be gone, ingrate.
Steve’s response was just as clear, and he didn’t need to raise his middle finger to convey it.
“Stand down,” Devon ordered him, soaking in the light and fresh magic of the warrior fae and funneling it to Charity. Her heartbeat, a moment ago sporadic and weak, increased. Her ragged breathing eased slightly. But she was a long way from safe.
“She’s…” Devon stood with her in his arms. He faced the man, ignoring his people fanning out behind him, ignoring the elves walking up slowly, taking it all in. One of these groups of people was going to help Charity, and they were going to do it now. “She’s one of yours, we think. She doesn’t have control of her magic, and I can barely keep her from succumbing to it.”
“She’s the spitting image of the First,” a fae woman said from just behind the man, her long hair braided down the side of her cherubic face, offsetting the hot violence in her light eyes. “Is she the one we seek?”
The elves picked their way around the carnage, ever closer.
“Her magic doesn’t feel like a guardian’s,” the man said, looking down on Charity’s face.
“Yasmine, the picture,” Devon called.
“It’s in her pocket,” Penny yelled, her voice thick with emotion.
Steve dug his hand in Charity’s pocket and extracted the picture.
The man took the picture before showing it to his companions. “Where did you get this?”
Devon’s patience gave out. “Do you know him or not? The vampire Vlad thinks this man is her father. If he is warrior fae—a guardian—she’s one of yours, and she badly needs your help. She’s dying.”
“I will help her.” An elf practically danced up to them, at once beautiful and aggravating, with its dramatic flair and musical voice.
“You’ve helped plenty,” Devon growled, the force of his irritation driving the elf back a step.
The fae woman’s eyes widened and a smile graced her face. “My, you are powerful.”
“I’m an alpha, and you are wasting my time.”
“I know exactly what to do with her,” the lead elf said. His comrades waited behind him.
“You better back off, because I know exactly what to do with you.” Penny walked up with tears and fire in her eyes. “You didn’t help when we needed it. When it could’ve saved lives. So now you will back the ever-loving dingle dongs off.” She turned to the fae. “This woman clearly has magical poisoning. Are you so stupid that you don’t recognize one of your own? You should stop being such arrogant donkey dicks and help her out.” She bent and scooped up Charity’s sword before thrusting it at them. “This sword fits her magic perfectly. Does it also fit yours? If the picture didn’t convince you, maybe this will.”
The man didn’t reach for the sword, but the woman behind him did—even as another of their group pushed forward to look down at Charity’s face. “I’ve heard of magical poisoning. It hasn’t happened in the village in…” She opened Charity’s eyes with her finger and thumb, exposing the bright, unnatural blue. She sucked in a breath. “This is…” Her eyes darted up, meeting Devon’s. “The magic has flipped. It has inverted, hasn’t it? How does she still breathe?”