“Terra. Aere. Aquam. Ignis. Spiritus. Invoco te ad hoc penamculum nutriendum et malum circa nos ad manifestandum compellere,” I whisper into the night, reading the spell. Letting my mental shields drop, I exhale and feel the darkness surround me. The incubus is resisting, trying to retreat into the astral plane. “Terra. Aere. Aquam. Ignis. Spiritus! Invoco te ad hoc penamculum nutriendum et malum circa nos ad manifestandum compellere!” I repeat, louder this time. For some reason, I know to hold out my hand, fueling the spell with magic. Sparks of blue energy leave my fingertips and swirl in the center of the pentacle.
The sound of a whip cracking sounds around us, and the bits of blue energy swirl faster and faster, not stopping until the incubus is there. The enchanted dagger is right next to me and I grab it. The incubus rises into the air, chest puffing out, and explodes, releasing dozens of small incubi into the air.
Chapter
Eighteen
Bits of oozy incubus rain down on me and I jump back, accidentally knocking over one of my candles. It goes out, thankfully, but it breaks my circle of protection. Not that it would have mattered anymore.
Because there are dozens of incubi fluttering around, looking like bats.
I stand there, completely stunned as I watch the baby demons figure out how to use their wings. For a split second, I think they’re cute. But then one flies at me, screeching and baring sharp fangs.
“Anora!” Ethan jumps up, pulling me against him. He uses the butt of his gun to whack the little incubus to the ground. It hits with a splat and lays unmoving for a few seconds.
Then it lets out a high-pitched screech that alerts the others of it’s attack, and like a swarm of angry bees, the other incubi speed toward us. Hunter bounds forward, shifting into shadow form and knocking several of them to the ground.
“What do we do?” Sam yells, swatting her hands in the air.
“Get them!” Ethan yells back, pulling the enchanted dagger from its sheath. He brandishes it through the air, stabbing a bat-sized incubus against the side of the house. He knocks another one onto the ground and stomps on it, splattering demon brains on the porch. The demons, realizing they’re under attack, swarm back all together, screeching as they communicate with each other.
I throw out my hand, fire springing from my fingers. One of the demons flies right into my grasp and falls to the porch, wings burning as it screams in pain. Ethan stomps that one as well, and incubus brains splatter all over my shoe. They swarm together l again, rising high into the night.
“They’re trying to fly away,” I call out, grabbing the sword from the little white table on the porch, holding it in my right hand. Flames flicker around my fingers, and I race forward, jumping down the porch steps all at once. Holding the sword feels familiar, and I know what to do.
Because I’ve done it before—many times.
“Ignis,” I say and the fire erupts from my hand, moving down the hilt and taking on the shape of the blade. “Come and get me you little motherfuckers!” I take a stance, holding up the sword. The incubi move together like a black cloud, coming at me with increasing speed. Swinging the sword like a baseball bat, I slice through the swarm. Three drop to the ground right away, wings singed and writhing in pain.
And then all hell breaks loose. The incubi all go in different directions, swooping after each of us.
“We have to get them all,” Ethan grunts, whacking another with his gun, knocking it to the ground so he can crush it. Another incubus, much larger than the others, flies right at him and he shoots it, gunshot ringing out over the yard. The thing explodes from the force of the bullet, spraying his face with blood.
The front door opens as Nik races inside, and Hunter shadows after several other incubi who are furiously flying around the back of the house. The wind picks up, blowing my hair wildly around my face but doesn’t affect the magical fire forming the blade of my sword. And since the blade is made up of magical fire and not heavy steel, I can wield this like I know exactly what I’m doing—because I do and suddenly all the training comes back to me.
Hours spent with a wooden sword, practicing how to move my feet and protect my vital organs. Anticipating my opponent’s next move is key, and when it comes to demon s, remembering they never play by the rules.
My hand starts to go down to my side and it all comes back to me in a rush. I got a bad grade on a test when I was in sixth grade because I’d spent the evening training with Aunt Estelle instead of studying at Laney’s like I told my mom.