Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels 4)

What the fuck were these things?

A growl rolled across the silence. I swallowed heavily. Damn if that didn’t sound like a hellhound . . .

This time I felt the stir of air. I leapt up, twisted around, and stabbed downward. Hit something so hard my whole body shuddered with the impact. Amaya’s flames fanned outward, encasing a hound-like shape.

Whether it was actually was from hell or just another product of Taylor’s twisted mind, I had no idea—and right now it wasn’t important. I pulled Amaya free and slashed at the hound’s neck. It exploded, sending me tumbling through the grayness.

They come! Amaya’s shriek was so fierce and loud I could have sworn it echoed across the plane, not just in my head.

Oh, fuck! I had no time to think or do anything else, because they were on me. Invisible beasts that snarled and slashed and tore at skin that didn’t exist on this plane. Pain burned through me on all levels and blood flowed, until I was slick with it. I fought, god how I fought, but there were too many of them. Far too many, even for Amaya.

Run! the voice that sounded so much like Azriel screamed.

Instantly, I reached for the level that divided earth and the astral plane from the gray fields. Imagined myself there, free from the teeth and claws that rent my skin. Felt the plane shift, and then blessed silence. I didn’t immediately move. I just lay on my back, panting madly, desperate to regain equilibrium and strength.>Taylor wanted me dead, and to do that he had to get me up into the umbra. He had no idea how skilled or not I was at astral traveling, so he was using the fog not only to disguise his movements, but to hide which level we were on.

I swished my sword back and forth. The fog boiled away from her flames, and I caught a glimpse of Taylor moving to my left. I imagined standing behind him, unseen, unheard. Moved in an instant, and swept Amaya left to right. Made contact, though where or what I hit I couldn’t say. It could have been Taylor; it could have been his staff. He made no sound to give me any indication either way.

Yet the smell of blood suddenly seemed to permeate the air.

His or mine?

And how was something like that even possible, given that Azriel had said a soul could be killed only in the umbra?

Killed, yes, a voice inside me whispered—a voice that sounded suspiciously like Azriel’s—but remember Adeline’s warning. What happens to you on the plane can become reality if the illusion is powerful enough.

Taylor’s illusion was certainly powerful enough.

To repeat a favorite phrase, fuck, fuck, fuck!

Which meant it really was time to stop playing the game his way. I needed to start moving up the levels, but I doubted he’d follow easily. He wanted to play, and I very much suspected he’d want me far weaker—bloodied and bleeding and on the edge of exhaustion—before he stepped onto the umbra and attempted to finish me off.

I had to convince him that I’d reached that state—that I was scared and on the run—long before I actually reached that point. And that meant I had to take far more blows than I already had.

Not something I really wanted to do, but I had little choice.

I gripped Amaya a bit tighter. Her hissing ramped up a couple of notches, an echo of the tension that gripped me. I swung her back and forth and watched the recoiling fog, trying to catch another glimpse of Taylor. For several heartbeats there was nothing; then air caressed my skin.

Once again, the bastard was behind me.

I waited until the last possible moment—until my nerves were a mess and the need to move so fierce it felt like every piece of me quivered—then twisted around and lashed out with Amaya.

She hit something solid and screamed in pain. I jumped back, releasing her from the ash, and heard the whip of air coming in from the right. I bit my lip, and once again waited until the very last moment to jump out of the way.

Something thin and leather-like snapped across my spine and bit deep. A scream was torn from me and blood flowed, on the field and no doubt in real life.

And while the wounds might be nothing more than a product of imagination and Taylor’s will—here on the astral plane, at least—they damn well felt real.

But I couldn’t do much about any of the wounds that were appearing on my flesh, either here or in reality, simply because I needed to make Taylor believe I was scared enough to run. No hard task, as it was becoming the truth.

But I wasn’t hurt enough yet. Taylor had nicknamed me huntress, and he wasn’t likely to believe I’d be panicked into running so quickly. I had to take at least one more serious hit.

I watched the fog roll away from Amaya’s point, feeling the backwash that was the plane reacting to Taylor’s movements, but not actually reacting to them myself. The coward was coming in from behind again. My skin crawled as he drew closer and closer, until the itch was so bad I could have sworn I’d have to react or go crazy.

Staff! Amaya screamed. Up!

I didn’t move, didn’t obey. I just waited, my body tense, as the whoosh of air came down hard and fast. Amaya hissed and spat her fury. The flames that roiled from her steel crawled upward, as if seeking to incinerate the staff before it reached us. As her lilac fire began to wrap itself around the oncoming weapon and her screaming ramped up to fever pitch, I threw myself sideways.

The blow that was meant to split my head hit my shoulder instead, and once again it bit deep. I yelped in pain and there was nothing false or forced about it. As an odd weakness began to wash through my astral being, I closed my eyes and imagined myself on the second layer of the plane.