Calder joined in Reaver’s frantic search, until finally, the Nightlash demon shouted. “There!”
The Seminus’s arm was poking out from under the dead beast’s hindquarters.
Fear made Reaver clumsy as he rushed to Tavin, and he nearly passed out with relief when he found the Sem caught in a small space between the demon’s leg and a rock.
“You okay?” Tavin didn’t respond. Anxiety spiked again as Reaver sank to his knees. “Tav?”
Blood soaked the ground around Tavin, pooling and mixing with the other demon’s darker blood. A faint scritching noise rose up, and the dirt began to vibrate, sending chills up Reaver’s spine.
Carnage maggots.
“Get to safety,” Reaver told Calder. “Now.”
The demon eyed the larva-nettle bush. “What about the fallen angel?”
“The bush will protect her,” Reaver yelled, his patience shot. “Go!”
Hastily, he dragged Tavin out from under the demon’s leg and heaved him over his shoulder. The ground rumbled hard enough to make him stagger. In seconds this patch of battle-chewed earth would become a feeding ground for great white shark–sized grubs that fed on blood and dead flesh, but they wouldn’t turn down a live meal either.
The ground between Reaver and Harvester erupted with maggots, cutting off his path. Shit. He spun sharply and hauled ass up a mound of boulders, narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws of a maggot that burst out of the ground like a damned porpoise out of water.
“I hate Sheoul,” he breathed, as he laid Tavin out on his side on a flat rock and kneeled beside the still unconscious Sem. The stench of blood, bowels, and death filled his nostrils, and his heart plummeted to his feet. It was worse than he’d thought.
Tavin had been gutted from the back. Broken bones pierced organs that were spilling out of the two-foot gash, and Reaver had a sick feeling he’d left a few vital innards on the ground below.
“Damn you,” Reaver muttered.
Even if Reaver possessed the ability to get the demon to Underworld General, he wouldn’t survive the time it would take to get there. Reaver was Tavin’s only hope, and healing him was going to take every drop of Reaver’s power. He couldn’t afford the loss, but neither could he afford to lose Tavin.
But there was also the very real possibility that his healing power could go awry, twisted and corrupted by the lasher implants. He could kill Tavin just as easily as heal him.
Reaver wasn’t even going to think about the fact that healing demons with angelic power was sort of… frowned upon by his angel brethren. He’d broken a lot bigger rules than that in just the last day.
Tavin sucked in a weak, shuddering breath. As he exhaled, his body went slack with the familiar death sag.
Reaver was done with the overthinking crap.
Power tingled up from his core, spreading across his skin. He placed his hands on Tavin’s head and funneled everything he had into the demon. Sweat formed on his brow as Tavin’s organs and bones began to mend and his heart began to beat.
Clenching his teeth, he dragged power from the deepest depths of his very bones, channeling it into Tavin until he sputtered and choked.
Tavin groaned in tandem with Reaver as his healing ability trickled down to nothing. Drained to the point of near-unconsciousness, Reaver lurched forward, nearly landing on Tavin as his muscles turned to water. He collapsed onto the hard stone and let himself lay there, panting and sweating. Next to him, Tavin breathed in deep, steady draws. The Sem was out of the woods.
“Reaver?” Tavin’s voice was raspy and rough. Pretty normal for a guy who had been teetering on the wrong side of death.
“Yeah?” Reaver didn’t sound so hot, either.
Tavin exploded up to crouch on his haunches next to Reaver, his mangled T-shirt hanging off him in bloody strips, one hand covering his personal Seminus glyph on his throat. “What the fuck did you do to me?”
“I saved your life.” Reaver sat up, irritated at the demon’s utter lack of gratitude. “And you’re welcome.”
Tavin’s blue eyes sparked with gold, which meant he was either horny or annoyed, and Reaver hoped to hell it wasn’t the former, because the guy wasn’t going to find a female anytime soon.
“No… what did you do to me?”
Demons. They didn’t make sense at the best of times. “What are you talking about?”
Tavin moved his hand. Reaver leaned in for a closer look. Had the symbol changed? Reaver thought it had been some sort of string or rope.
“Ah… what was your symbol?” Reaver asked.
“Was?”
“Is,” Reaver said. “Was, is… whatever. What’s the symbol you see on your neck every day when you look in the mirror?”
Tavin’s cheeks blushed pink. “It’s a worm.”
“Worm?” Most Sems had more masculine symbols, or at least, symbols that weren’t… worms.
“Yes, worm.” Tavin gnashed his teeth. “What’s wrong with it? It feels different. I feel different.”
The ground rumbled as the maggots began to move away. It wouldn’t be long before they’d be gone and he could get back to Harvester. Reaver smoothed his fingertip over the thin black lines and gray shaded details of Tavin’s new glyph. A prick of pain stabbed his fingertip, and he drew back with a hiss.
“Well,” Reaver said as he stared at the blood welling on the pad of his finger, “no one is going to make fun of you for having a worm on your neck anymore.”
Tavin glared. “Why not?”
“Because your worm turned into a viper.” He held out his bloodied finger. “And it bites.”
Tavin fell back onto the rock and stared up into the endless black above. “Remind me to never travel with an angel again. Especially not you.”
“I doubt you have to worry about that,” Reaver said.
Because after this trip, chances were that he would no longer be an angel.
Eight
It had been a long time since Harvester had awakened feeling rested and comfortable. She was hungry and a little thirsty, but her mouth wasn’t so parched that she wanted to drink her own tears, so that was something.
Warm arms were wrapped around her, and at her back, a big male body was bracing her, holding her securely in place. Strangely, instead of feeling trapped and shackled, she felt secure. Safe. How long had it been since she’d felt safe? She couldn’t remember.
No… that wasn’t true. She’d been an angel once, living among her kind, never worrying about losing her life or being subjected to endless torture. Now she was… where?
Sudden panic squeezed her in a vise grip and she sat up with a cry. The arms caging her tightened, and when she struggled, they squeezed even tighter.
“Harvester. It’s me. It’s Reaver.”
She went still. Reaver? It all came back to her, but it sure as shit didn’t make her feel any better. She no longer felt the shockwaves from her father’s searing rage, but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. When Satan was calm, he was plotting death and destruction. She and Reaver were in grave danger, and it was only a matter of time before the enemy—or the good guys—found them.
“Release me,” she ground out.
His arms fell away, and she scrambled to the other side of the little cove he’d made for them in the center of the larva-nettle bush. She was naked, but she’d lost her sense of modesty thousands of years ago, and besides, they had bigger problems than her lack of clothing. At least she had her sight back.
Yay for eyes.
Reaver remained on the ground, lounging on his side, head propped on one hand as if they didn’t have a care in the world. As if he hadn’t been holding her as carefully as if she were made of glass. Why would he do that? Maybe he was trying to throw her off balance with the nice-guy act. But if he thought he was going to sweet-talk her into looking for Lucifer, he was more of a fool than she’d believed. She’d done enough for Team Good. She’d done her time and paid her dues.