Black Night

I don’t know how long I fought the demons, or how many I killed. I only know that after what seemed like hundreds of corpses were piled in the corridor behind me the attack abruptly petered out and I was alone again.

I limped away from the stench of dead demons, my right leg dragging behind me. I tried to call my wings but they wouldn’t come for me. So the Maze would let me have my magic, but only to a degree. I guessed my wings would make things too easy. I hoped the Maze gave Antares a similar disadvantage.

I managed to make it down a few corridors unmolested. Once I was sure I was well away from the site of the demon battle, I stopped and took stock of my injuries.

My long-sleeved tee had been burned in several places on my arms from demon saliva. Long shiny welts on my arms and hands peeked from underneath the torn cotton. One demon had managed to get a good hold on my left leg and tear the denim at the knee. It had also left a long shallow cut that had mostly clotted up.

The ragged pieces of my clothing were now more annoying than protective, so I ripped the sleeves out of the shirt at the armholes and used the sword to turn the jeans into cutoffs. I looked sadly at my favorite sneakers, which were so covered in demon gore that I would probably have to throw them away. If, that was, I actually survived.

My sword arm felt sore and the sword itself weighed a ton now that the adrenaline of battle was spent. I was afraid to put it in the scabbard since the Maze seemed to like surprising me, but it was hard to carry at the ready. I limped along with the sword hanging loosely at my side, the tip just barely clearing the floor.

I was starting to feel tired and a little delirious. I hadn’t had anything to eat except a granola bar and a few almonds in more than twenty-four hours, and I’d spent a lot of that time under extreme stress. I just wanted to close my eyes for a while and rest. If I could sleep a little, I would feel better.

But the Maze sensed weakness, and that was when Antares rounded the corner.

“Still alive, little sister?” Antares hissed.

He looked completely unharmed by the antics of the Maze. Unfair, I thought for the second time since I’d entered Amarantha’s sadistic toy. Why should he be raring and ready to go when I was ready to fall flat on my face?

It would never do to show weakness to Antares even if I was at a low point. “Are you lost, little brother?” I said, and held the sword up and ready to attack. “I was sure you would have run home crying to Focalor by now.”

Antares just smiled at me, and moved closer. I called for my magic, but there was nothing there. This wasn’t the feeling that I had when I had overworked myself and used too much power at once. Despite the continuous stream of demons I hadn’t felt my magic growing weak.

This was different. It was like the magic just wasn’t inside me, like it had never been inside me. But that was impossible. Even without the new powers awakened by Lucifer’s sword, I still had my Agent magic.

Then I understood. The Maze had taken my power from me. J.B. had said that the Maze would find my worst nightmares, and being powerless in the face of Antares definitely qualified.

“Looking for something, sister?” Antares taunted, and it was then that I realized something else. This wasn’t the real Antares. This was a manifestation of the Maze drawn from my own mind.

“Yeah, your head on a plate,” I snapped back. Even when I was exhausted and injured, my mouth ran away from me.

“Come and get it, then,” Antares crooned, and crooked one clawed finger at me.

I rushed at him with my sword up and held in both hands. I don’t know what I was planning to do but Antares kicked my legs out from beneath me before I even got close. I landed hard on the back of my head and saw stars spinning above me.

Antares yanked Lucifer’s sword from my hand and tossed it away. It still lit the corridor, but its brightness dimmed a bit once it was away from me. I tried to stand and get away but Antares kicked me in the stomach.

It was like the first time I had met him, before I knew he was a demon, before I knew he was my brother or that I was Azazel’s daughter. He had beaten me within an inch of my life and the only thing that had saved me had been Gabriel’s magic.

But Gabriel wasn’t here now, and I was just as powerless as I had been the first time. I held my hands up, trying to protect myself from Antares’s vicious kicks, but I was so tired and hurt that all I could do was roll feebly away. He kicked me in the ribs again, and I coughed, tasting blood in my mouth.

He’s going to kill me, I thought.

I rolled to my stomach, tried to inch away in a crawl. Antares laughed behind me.

“What do you think of your beloved heir now, Father?” he asked.

I raised my head and saw through blurry eyes that two other figures stood farther down the corridor. I blinked to focus and saw the frowning faces of my mother and father.

“I should not have put so much stock in her,” Azazel replied. “I should have chosen you, my son.”

Antares laughed, grabbed me by the back of my shirt and turned me over. He punched me in the face and I heard my nose crack. Blood rushed out in a torrent.

“I’m sorry that I bore you such a weak daughter,” Katherine said to Azazel.

“Mom?” I said weakly. “Mom, help me.”

“Help you?” Katherine scoffed. “I should have never had you in the first place. If not for you, I could have spent a lifetime with Azazel.”

I knew it wasn’t my mother. My mother was dead. It was the Maze, trying to break my will. But it still hurt to hear something with my mother’s face and my mother’s voice say such things.