I smashed into the wall face-first, crushing my nose and splitting my lip. Blood spurted, the metallic taste filling my mouth and making my stomach stir threateningly. For a moment, everything was red, and I wasn't sure if it was blood or the angry energy of the nearby warding stones. I pushed away from the wall, felt rather than saw the impetus of the hound's approach, and dropped flat and rolled. Only to remember the stones. I thrust out a hand, stopping my momentum inches from the warding circle even as I slashed at the air with the knife. The silver blade cut through the flesh of the creature's underbelly as it sailed over my length, missing the hissing wall of energy by a whisker. Black blood spurted from the creature's wound, spraying across my face and arms and stinging like acid.
I swore and scrambled away, following the line of stones, using it to protect one side of my body, in much the same way as I might have used a wall. The electricity of it buzzed across my face, and the warning flickers of red fire cut across the shadows, giving the room a sullen angry glow.
Slicing open the hound's stomach didn't appear to be slowing it down any, though I don't know why I expected it to when stabbing a knife into its brain had zero effect. As I stood there, staring at the creature staring at me, the realization came that this was a fight I was never going to win. Not playing it this way. He was too quick, too strong. And he was a demon without living restrictions.
This thing is going to tear me to pieces before I ever get near its neck.
Then use the power of the stones against it.
Won't that warn our magician that something is going on?
Yes, but if you do not think you can sever its head, then we have little other choice.
Okay. I took a deep breath, then made a sideways leap for the barrier. The hound attacked the minute I moved, slashing out with wickedly barbed claws. I twisted and dropped at the last moment, but the creature's blow caught my left sleeve and tore into flesh. It didn't matter, because it was concentrating on me rather than where it was going, and that's exactly what I wanted. The creature hit the wall of energy and the stones reacted instantly. Red fire erupted, surrounding the hellhound in a whirling, incandescent cauldron of flame, burning it, consuming it, in little more than a blink of the eye, until there was nothing left, not even ash, to scatter lifelessly down to the floor.
I blew out a breath, thankful the wards didn't appear to discriminate between evil and good. I guess that made sense, though. It was probably easier to protect the circle from all comers rather than raise a discriminatory type of magic. If that was even possible. One hellhound dead and gone.
Relief spun down the telepathic line. Are you okay?
I pushed into a sitting position and took stock. The wound on my leg was the worst - the creature's claws had sunk deep, tearing three bloody trenches down from my thingh. And it fucking hurt.
The scratches on my arm were no less bloody or painful, but at least the hound's claws had only caught a fraction of skin. The top was a goner, though. My lip and nose hurt, but were really the least of my problems.
The bastard got me a couple of times.
Use the holy water to cleanse the wounds then, before shifting. Demon marks can fester and not heal otherwise.
Even for a werewolf?
Werewolves aren't immune to the forces of magic - whether they be light or dark - simply because you are creatures of magic yourselves.
I shucked off my shredded top, then leaned sideways and picked up the bottle of water I'd dropped. The creature hadn't given me time to undo the lid properly before it attacked, so only a little had managed to escape. I undid the top the rest of the way, and poured some of the water over all the wounds.
About half a minute after the water hit my flesh, it turned white and began to bubble and burn like crazy. I clenched my teeth against the scream rising up my throat, and mentally swore for all I was worth at Quinn.
His amusement drifted down the mental line. If I'd warned you, you wouldn't have done it.
Too right, you bastard, I said, when I could.
If you had changed before applying the water, you would have carried the infection into your body. You would have died from it, Riley, because there is no cure for the poison of demon bites once it takes hold.
Not even a magical cure?
He hesitated. There are magical cures, but I am no magician, and there are few left in this day and age who even believe in demons, let alone know the spells to cure their bite.
Which is odd, isn't it, when you consider we have all manner of nonhumans still running around. I shifted shape as the bubbling finally cased, staying in my wolf shape for several seconds before shifting back. It healed the scratches on my arm, and stopped my split lip from bleeding, but my leg was going to take several more shifts to fully repair. And I was still going to end up with bruising, a puffy mouth, and a sore nose, no matter what. Thankfully, I wasn't seeing Jin tonight, because the mouth and the nose would be a little hard to explain away.
But magic is a skill learned, Quinn said, and like any skill, it can be lost.
Like the priests of Aedh are lost? I grabbed the water bottle and pushed upright. Pain slithered up my leg but otherwise, it was fine. There was no more bleeding, at least, though I had no doubt the already pretty bruising would get worse.
The priests are not lost. They are destroyed.
That one in the alley didn't look very destroyed to me.
You did not see him. You only heard him.
True. I considered the circle for a moment, then tossed some water toward it. The stones didn't react, allowing the water to arc right through the middle of them. The stream hit one edge of the pentagram, where it began to sizzle and steam.