Tellamoth’s face darkened. ‘That’s not my name.’
‘Do I look like I care?’
He said nothing, but anger worked his face, pulling the dark lines of his brows together and compressing his lips.
The spell holding Byrne in place cracked a little more.
She sneered. ‘Demon lord got your tongue?’
He snarled, fury eating the colour in his eyes, hands going for her throat. ‘Shut—’
He didn’t get the chance to finish the rest. The binding shattered and Byrne lunged at Tellamoth, fingers curled into claws, teeth bared.
They tumbled backwards, rolling across the hard concrete floor in a tangle of battle-stained skirts and Tellamoth’s jacket, grappling for advantage with heaves and savage blows.
Tellamoth landed a punch in Byrne’s stomach, forcing the air from her lungs. She gasped and for a second he was on top, first balling, knuckles white as he wound back his arm to wind her a second time. She had time to wheeze in a tiny gasp of air before she struck him the crotch.
Tellamoth turned white, muscles going slack as he curled in on himself. It was all Byrne needed, she rolled and Tellamoth fell back, arms coming up to fend her off. Two sharp jabs and his arms fell limp, and then she was on him, straddling his chest, hands around his throat. Squeezing.
Victory and hate surged through Byrne, a viscous, black tide of bloodlust that made her heart pound and darkened the edges of her vision until she saw was Tellamoth’s face turning red as he fought to breathe.
He clawed at her hands, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.
Byrne squeezed harder.
He got his fingers under her hands, pried them apart just enough to spit out three words. ‘I. Trusted. You.’
The shock of that stunned Byrne, further loosened her hands on his throat. ‘What?’
The punch blindsided her, left her ears ringing and starlight in her eyes. When her senses cleared, she was on her back and Tellamoth straddled her chest, his hands around her throat.
Byrne gasped and clutched his wrists, but Tellamoth’s fingers didn’t tighten. He snarled and leaned down until she could feel his breath on her face and his eyes filled her vision. As she watched, the black ring around his irises pulsed, the darkness growing fiber by fiber, eating the blue at its core.
For a moment, something swam in the back of her head, a memory of pain and heart wrenching grief struggling to rise through the fog of lifetimes.
Tellamoth shook her and the memory vanished.
‘Don’t remember that, do you Sword Uthor?’ Disdain dripped from his words. ‘Stuck a knife between your ribs and conveniently forgot how much of all this you’re responsible for.’
Tellamoth leaned in closer until their foreheads touched and they shared the same breath. ‘But don’t worry, I remember and when the time’s right, so will you.’
What did Byrne do in her first life???
I’m thinking it was something to do with either starting the demon attacks or making them worse. Or, OR (you can’t see me, but I’m bouncing in my seat here) maybe she’s half demon!
Sketch of Nova’s prosthetic hand.
Sorry for the lack of progress shots, I ditched the digital tablet for pencil and paper. I like sketching with pencil, but the lack of an undo function drives me nuts.