Soul of a Demon (The Dark Angel Wars 2)

The demon raked its nails across my back, the agony causing me to scream hysterically. I turned and fought against it as my wrists were pulled into a vice. Kicking out with my feet, I made contact with its nose and felt something snap. A light came on somewhere and I shielded my eyes from the brightness, blinded momentarily.

By the time my eyes had adjusted, I realized I was back in the Westward Manor dungeon. Manuel crouched next to me, his hands covering his face. Blood poured from his nose and down onto his t-shirt, blossoming into a crimson bloom. He grimaced at me and walked away. Grabbing a towel from the counter top, he looked up at the ceiling and dabbed at the mess.

“I’m so sorry, Manuel,” I cried, launching myself to his side.

He waved his hand at me, telling me to stay away. I kept my distance and watched mournfully as he gingerly squeezed along the bridge of his nose.

“You broke it,” he slurred in his heavy Spanish accent.

“You’ve got to believe me, I didn’t know it was you.” I bit at my bottom lip, scared at what his reaction was going to be. Would he stop training me because of my outburst?

“It’s no use,” he said, wincing as he spat out some blood into the towel. His brow furrowed with pain. “There go my good looks. I’m ruined.”

I stared wide-eyed at him for an entire ten seconds before he broke out into a grin, his teeth bloody. Realizing that he had been joking, I pouted out my lower lip and punched him in the shoulder. Jerk. Storming away, I dropped myself into one of the cushy armchairs and crossed my arms. This was no time to be joking. We had a serious problem on our hands.

“I met my demon half in the nothingness,” I told him.

His eyebrows raised and the grin melted from his face. “And what was it like?”

“Dark. Evil. And smart. It talked about the coming Prince of Hell. It can’t wait for him to squash me like a bug.”

Manuel dropped the towel and moved to the chair across from me. “Did it attack you?”

“Yes.” I reached under my t-shirt to feel for the claw marks. My skin remained unbroken, but warm to the touch. “It didn’t like my threats. When it touched me, it hurt. Kind of like grabbing a live wire with your bare hands.”

He considered me for a moment, bringing the tips o

f his fingers together. Now that the blood flow had begun to decrease, I could see the slightest curve in his nose that wasn’t there before. I’d definitely broken it.

“You should get that checked out before it heals,” I said, pointing to his nose. “They might be able to save your good looks after all.”

He waved the thought away and frowned. “This has been an interesting session. I believe we can learn much through these meditations. Tomorrow, we will attempt contact again.”

I opened my mouth to retort. Today hadn’t exactly been a picnic. If my demon could hurt me like that with one little swipe of its claws, there was no telling what it could really do. A big part of me wanted to just avoid contact.

The old me would’ve left it alone. Avoided conflict. Of course, that was before the old me came across what I thought was an injured demon in the forest. Look where that got me...

Reluctantly, I nodded at Manuel. As much as I didn’t like the idea, he would guide me through it. I could trust his leadership.

Pleased with my cooperation, he migrated toward the heavy duty steel door that kept me prisoner in the dungeon. With a sigh, he knocked on it three times and waited for the guard to open it.

“There’s one last thing,” he said with a flick of his hand. A few droplets of blood flung from his fingers. “It’s better if you hear this from me. With the major increase of demons escaping the Hell Gate, the village of Hanna has become unsafe. A majority of their residents took up refuge in your human cities. However, a small band of them have deigned to call Westward Manor home until this situation is resolved.”

My eyes narrowed as I stared at him. “Does that mean...?”

“Yes.” He nodded curtly. “Your grandmother is here.”

I wouldn’t believe it. The last place on Earth I’d expect Granny to run to would be a Nephilim fortress. Luke and Gabe wouldn’t allow it. I wouldn’t allow it, either.

Over my dead body.

Chapter Twelve

The knock at my prison door several days later nearly gave me a heart attack. A guard had already dropped off my supper for the evening and I wasn’t expecting another training session with Manuel until tomorrow. Besides, none of my guards even bothered knocking before they came trouncing into my cell. It was another perk of the dungeon suite. No guarantee of privacy.

“Hello?” Treading softly toward the door, I listened carefully.

With news of the feral attacks increasing out there, one couldn’t be too careful. But then again, I sincerely doubted ferals would have the decency to knock before entering. And I was weaponless. They couldn’t trust a demonic freak like me with even a tiny silver dagger. I didn’t stand a chance either way.