Hissing, she leapt back onto her feet, clutching her end of the now useless whip, and kicked his legs out from under him. He went into a back roll, coming up to grip his lance, but she jerked her wrist and the whip ripped it out of his grasp. It landed in the grass several feet behind her.
Ithuriel came at her next, his rapier raised, leaping in close to keep her from using the whip again. She used the handle to block him, moving almost too fast for the eye to see. Zephon joined his partner, armed with a blade that had been tucked in his belt as a back-up weapon. I continued fending off the demons that managed to break through to us, trying to keep an eye on their battle when I could. It wasn’t until I heard their sharp cries of pain over the roar of war that something went wrong.
I turned. They were both on their knees, clutching identical shoulder wounds. A dagger had sprung from the handle of her whip—an obsidian-tipped blade. Judging by the pain on their faces, it must have been poisoned. She stepped towards me. Ithuriel reached for her, but she kicked him away, knocking him senseless.
Zephon grimaced, trying desperately to get to his feet. “Jordan, get out of here!”
I hacked and slashed at the demons in front of me, making a path for myself, but I didn’t get very far. I didn’t have enough ground to retreat to, and she was almost to me. I squared my shoulders and clutched the axe, raising it.
“Fine. You want me dead, bitch? Bring it.”
Mulciber smiled sweetly back at me, her voice like poisoned honey. “Gladly.”
She slashed at me with the whip. I shouted, “I reject!”
The weighted tip of the weapon ripped through my shield as if it were paper, but it gave me enough space to roll to the side, aiming for her already injured shoulder. She turned away at the last minute, making my axe miss and sink into the ground. I yanked it out of the dirt, wincing as my injured arm burned with pain, and faced her again.
“How adorable,” she purred as she circled me, her hand twirling the handle of the whip. “I see the angel has taught you how to attack and defend. It won’t work on me, my dear. I’m a new animal.”
“On that we agree.” I lunged forward and aimed for her head. Mulciber blocked me with her forearm and the blade sunk into the metal, crumpling it. Well, at least I’d hit her. She shot me an insolent glare, surprised that I’d at least managed to get through to flesh.
“Well done, Seer. I will play with you no more. It’s time to die.”
She aimed for my neck. I brought the axe up, but the tip of the whip wrapped around the handle. She pulled with inhuman strength, yanking it out of my grip. Shit!
I scrambled backwards, checking the ground for any loose weapons. Just as she raised the whip again, I found a discarded sword and blocked her next blow, wincing as sparks flew into my face, nearly blinding me. She laughed and kept coming, shouting above the sounds of dying all around us.
“What a piece of work is man!” Mulciber exclaimed, punctuating the quote with another powerful blow. My arm had begun to throb with pain from absorbing the strikes into the sword. It seemed to be getting weaker by the minute.
“How noble in reason!” CLANG!
“How infinite in faculty!” CLANG!
“In form and moving how express and admirable!” CLANG!
At last, she managed to hit my left arm with the whip. I cried out, dropping the sword. Wearing a nightmarish grin, she kicked me in the chest, sprawling me on the grass. I clutched the wounded spot, struggling to rise to my feet, but she tossed her whip aside and grabbed me around the neck. She slammed my head against the ground. Pain crackled through my skull.
I weakly tried to say, “Strike,” but she wrapped those cold fingers around my throat and squeezed.
“In action how like an angel,” Mulciber purred as she choked the life out of me bit by bit. “In apprehension how like a god; the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals.”
I clawed at her arms, her face, getting blood and skin beneath my fingernails. My legs thrashed beneath me, trying to shove me upward, but I couldn’t get out of her grip.
“Goodbye, sweet Jordan.”
Darkness ate my vision and the last thing I heard was the sound of Michael calling my name.
Chapter 25
I stood in a field of pure white that seemed to have no end, with nothing inhabiting it except for me and the two people standing in front of me. To the right, there was a tall man with black hair and azure eyes that met my gaze with a strange sort of serenity. My eyes followed the pattern of several faded scars that marred the right side of his neck and one that bisected his right eyebrow.
The woman beside him was much more familiar—about 5’8’’, skin the color of coffee with cream, shoulder-length black hair that fell in curly waves about her oval face and chocolate eyes.
My mouth went dry. “It’s you.”
Catalina Amador and Andrew Bethsaida smiled at me then, speaking at the same time.
“Hello, mi hija.”