Elisabeth Naughton - Tempted

The darkness vibrated in Demetrius’s chest, pushed against his ribs, screamed to be let free. “A burden.”

“Well, that’s where we differ, Argonaut. To me she’s an opportunity. She and I have an arrangement. And she owes me something I intend to collect. Now if that’s it for the inquisition”—he glanced down to where Demetrius held him by the arm, waited until he let go—“then I’ll see you both inside.” He lifted the cloak around his head and disappeared.

Demetrius darted a look at Gryphon, who only rolled his eyes. “Invisibility cloak. Don’t ask where he got it. Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

Demetrius looked back to where Orpheus had stood only moments before.

“He can also poof through walls, in case you didn’t know. Which means he’s probably already inside. Where in Hades is that signal?”

As if on cue, an explosion rocked the front gate and shook the ground. Screams and shouts erupted; a fireball ignited near the moat. Demetrius caught Gryphon’s eye. Gryphon nodded and flashed. Demetrius followed. When he opened his eyes he was on the top of the outer wall walk. He turned just in time to see three witches running his way, blades drawn, mouths open in blood-curdling screams.

Holy Hades. He tensed, had just enough time to draw his parazonium—the ancient Greek dagger they each carried—from the scabbard at his back and swing out and around in a defensive move before the first witch reached him. But his blade made no contact, swept through nothing but air. Jolted by the lack of matter, he shifted his attention to the middle witch, who screeched and swung up and over with her sword, bringing it down dangerously close to Demetrius’s shoulder. He shifted out and around, heard Gryphon call his name from farther down the wall walk, and kicked out, knocking the witch off balance. She hit the stones at his feet, jumped up, and swiveled in the air like a kung fu fighter.

Blade met sword. The witch was small but strong, and Demetrius felt the dark magick clinging to her as she fought against him. The third witch disappeared and reappeared at the edge of his vision, an exact replica of the one he was fighting. As he swung again and again and advanced, he realized she was casting illusions, trying to confuse him.

Fucking witches…

He pushed her closer to the gun battery. She growled, shifted the sword in her hands. Venom shone in her eyes. Her back hit the stone wall with a thwack. Knowing she was cornered, she stared at him, and a slow smile spread across her twisted face. “Come to me. Join me. You know you can’t resist for long.”

“I don’t think so.” He swung up and over, catching her arm with the flat of his blade, knocking the sword from her grasp. It clattered against the hard ground.

Her eyes flew wide, and her irises turned neon yellow…which was just freakin’ wrong . She shifted forward, raised her arms, and pointed her fingers at his chest. “Mother goddess of the—”

“I’m not wild about that one either.” He placed the heel of his boot against her chest and pushed just hard enough to get her attention. Her back hit the wall again. “Surrender.”

He spent his life killing. Daemons weren’t a problem, and if a random human got in the way of his goal, it was an acceptable loss as far as he was concerned. But he had a mental hang-up when it came to fighting a female, even a witch. He didn’t want to gut her, but he also knew the depth of her powers and he wasn’t about to let her cast a spell over him.

“I’d rather die first.” The witch lifted her hands again.

Before she could hex him, he pushed with the sole of his boot. A cracking resounded just before the stones gave way and her body tipped over the edge of the wall. He reached out to grab her, but she slipped out of his grip. Her scream echoed up as she dropped into the clouds below.

“Demetrius!”

Damn it. At the sound of his name, Demetrius tore to the other side of the wall walk and looked across the ward to the inner wall, where Gryphon had flashed and was now fighting a handful of witches. Only these didn’t look like illusions. They looked real and pissed and abundant.

“ Skata .” Demetrius closed his eyes and flashed to the next wall, behind the horde of witches. He kicked out at one, knocked her off balance. She leaped to her feet, twisted around, and hissed. When she charged with her sword high, he arced out and slashed through her abdomen. Lights flickered around her like a halo as blood spurted from the wound. But it wasn’t red, it was neon yellow, and when a drop hit the skin of his hand, it sizzled and burned.

Holy motherfucking…

Her shriek yanked his attention. In a daze he watched her beauty stutter and fade, leaving behind a wrinkled, gnarled, and warped being with razor-sharp teeth and snakes shooting out all over her head.

No way. Delia hadn’t lied when she said these things weren’t Medean anymore. They were like Furies, without the fucking wings. Any apprehension he had at mowing them down evaporated. He used his blade to take down one, then another. Each time he struck, that acid spurted from their wounds, charred any bits of his flesh left exposed.

They were relentless, coming again and again. By the time he reached Gryphon’s side, he was bloody and bruised, his hands charred and aching, and he was breathing heavily, a trail of dead witches behind him on the wall walk.

Gryphon didn’t look much better. “I never thought I’d say this, but I think I prefer fighting daemons. These witches are fucking brutal. At least the damn daemons go down easy.”

Demetrius wasn’t about to compare the two. His gaze shot to the courtyard below. “We have to get inside that keep before they bar the doors.”

They each flashed to one side of the gatehouse entrance, where two witches were working to roll the massive wood doors closed. Demetrius nodded once at Gryphon, then jumped up to the steps and went after the first witch. She was agile and turned on him like a wraith. Her scream echoed through the chill air, but he struck out and around with his blade and caught her in the chest. Her face contorted and morphed into her ugly image, her neon yellow eyes flying wide just before she fell at his feet.

Demetrius looked up in time to see the blade in the other witch’s hand catch Gryphon at the chest. Gryphon roared as metal sliced into flesh, went down to one knee. The second witch screeched and lifted her sword for the kill blow.

Demetrius charged with his shoulder and plowed into her abdomen before she could make contact. The witch sailed through the open door and smacked into a pillar on the far side of the hall. Her eyes went glassy; her head lolled on her shoulders. As her glamour faded, the snakes that made up her hair hissed and twisted around her face. She slumped to a heap against the floor.

Demetrius righted himself, reached for Gryphon.

“I’m fine,” Gryphon grumbled, pushing up to stand. “Shit, that burns.” He shook off Demetrius’s help. “I said I’m fine.”

Outside, shouts resounded and footsteps drew closer. The cackles and screams were clear indications that what was coming their way wasn’t Argolean.

“ Skata. ” Gryphon pointed toward a circular staircase with his blade. “There. Go!”

They made it halfway up the stairs before they were overrun by five more witches rushing down from the second level.

They swung, battled, chopped, and kicked. For every witch that went down, another seemed to come out of the woodwork and join the fight.

“Holy Hera,” Gryphon shouted over the battle. “They’re reproducing like rabbits!”

Just about the time Demetrius thought they were losing ground, Orpheus appeared on the landing above, his own sword raised as he drove the remaining witches down. Metal clanked against metal. Shouts resounded. Cries and screams of effort and agony echoed in the vast stone space.