That was what we were waiting for. Of course we couldn’t take Tyz’vel – although if we did, he’d be dead, this being his home dimension.
But one war demon? Kanesha’s sword was in her hand almost before I could see her draw it…she’d been practicing that move, to be that fast without my kind of enhancements.
Hans had his axe over his shoulder and was already swinging at the demon.
I trusted them.
I went right for Tyz’vel.
He back pedaled. He’d expected me to protect Kanesha. My blade went for his throat, but he parried it with one made of literal fire.
“I don’t burn easy,” I informed him.
“I don’t intend to burn you.”
He didn’t want to kill me. He wanted to…well. I knew what he wanted to do to me. “I know.”
He fought defensively, but I wasn’t near his equal with a blade. If he hadn’t wanted me alive I’d be dead, but Hans had cut the head off the war demon. It screamed.
More would come, I knew that, but I also hoped we only had to hold them until Coyote found my father. Or until something else happened.
The fire from his sword didn’t burn, but my own fire started to rise in response, and I knew I couldn’t let it out.
I couldn’t embrace it. Not until I knew for sure. Not until I had a straight answer. But it wanted out, it wanted to burn Tyz’vel.
Who was a demon and no more vulnerable to fire, even magical fire, than I seemed to be.
It was a stalemate. He didn’t want to hurt me. I wasn’t good enough to kill him. I struck low, trying to take his legs out from under him.
The flaming sword parried me again. I wasn’t out of breath yet, but I felt as if I had nothing to draw from.
And he had everything, I could feel him pulling in the energies of Hell. “Oh yes. I will have you. And I will rule. And I will knock…”
He was monologuing. I tried to stab him. It didn’t help, but it did at least stop the supervillain bragging. My sword, though, nearly fell from my hand, it taking all my strength to hold him.
He was pushing me back towards a wall and I couldn’t even spare a glance for Kanesha and Hans, all I could do was make it a fighting retreat until he twisted his blade to disarm me, pressed me against the wall.
And pressed his lips to mine.