Demonbound

18

The night had fully claimed the village.

Lanternlight flickered weakly, struggling against shadows that felt thicker now, heavier, as if the dark itself was watching. The streets were almost empty. Windows were shuttered. Doors locked tight.

Somewhere ahead, something moved.

Corvin slowed to a stop and closed his eyes.

Scott halted beside him. “You sense it?”

Corvin didn’t answer.

He inhaled slowly, pushing everything else aside—the smell of damp stone, the echo of distant footsteps, the low hum of fear still lingering in the air. He reached outward, not with his eyes, but with something deeper.

There.

A wrongness.

A presence that didn’t belong.

Corvin’s eyes snapped open.

He took off running.

Scott cursed under his breath and followed.

They cut through narrow streets and sharp turns, boots pounding against stone. The village blurred past them—fences, doorways, darkened alleys slipping by like frames in a reel.

Corvin skidded to a halt.

An alley stretched ahead of them, narrow and cramped, walls pressing inward. Lanternlight barely reached inside.

At the far end stood Maya.

No.

The demon wearing her face. It turned slowly, smiling as if it had been waiting.

“It’s a shame I have to kill you with that gorgeous face of yours,” Corvin said, unsheathing his daggers.

The demon’s smile widened.

“Who said anything about killing me?”

It stretched its arms outward.

The air shifted.

From the shadows beside it, shapes peeled themselves free—three more demons stepping into the light. Their forms were distorted, vaguely humanoid, skin stretched too tight over muscle that moved unnaturally beneath it.

“Shit,” Corvin muttered.

“So demons talk now?” Scott asked dryly.

“Only Vermins are incapable of speech,” the demon in the centre said calmly. “We all can talk.”

“I take it that Vermins are the weakest types of demons?” Corvin asked, adjusting his stance.

“Precisely,” the demon replied. “Even if they can be bigger in size, they can never compare to us.”

“Sounds like you have a grudge with the Vermins,” Corvin said.

Scott snorted. “Should we arrange a counselling session for you both?”

“Shut up,” the demon snapped. “While you’re busy facing my demon friends, I’ll be busy digesting your beautiful friend that you refused to let me have.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Corvin growled.

“I definitely will.”

It turned and bolted down the opposite end of the alley.

The three demons lunged forward at the same time.

Steel rang as Corvin and Scott blocked instinctively, boots sliding back across the stone. The impact was heavy—stronger than before.

“We can’t let it kill Maya,” Corvin said, parrying a clawed strike and driving his fist into a demon’s stomach.

“I agree,” Scott replied, ducking under a swing and landing two punches at once, sending both demons staggering back. “We have to kill that demon. I’m sure it’s their leader.”

“What should we do?” Corvin asked, lazily blocking another strike.

Scott didn’t hesitate.

“Go and save your damsel in distress. I’ll take care of these ones.”

“But they’re three,” Corvin said. “Are you sure you can take them?”

Scott smirked. “You keep forgetting I’m your older brother. I can handle these situations. Go. I’ll be fine.”

Corvin nodded once.

He drove a punch into one demon’s jaw, spun, and sprinted after the fleeing leader.

Scott rolled his shoulders and stepped forward as the remaining demons regrouped.

“Now,” he said quietly, his sigil flaring brighter against his skin, “let’s get serious.”

The demons attacked together.

Scott met them head-on.

The first lunged low. Scott stepped into it, knee driving upward into its chest. Bones cracked. The demon flew back and slammed into the wall.

The second swung from the side. Scott caught its wrist, twisted sharply, and slammed his elbow into its face. The impact sent it sprawling across the alley.

The third came from behind.

Scott sensed it at the last second, ducking as claws tore through the air where his head had been. He pivoted and drove his heel into its ribs, sending it crashing into the others.

For a moment, the alley was filled with groans and laboured breathing.

Scott exhaled slowly.

“That's all you’ve got?”

The demons laughed.

Low. Wet. Wrong.

Scott’s frown deepened.

The one he’d slammed into the wall stood first.

The crack in its chest sealed itself shut.

The twisted wrist of another snapped back into place with a sickening sound.

Blood that had spilled onto the ground seeped back into their bodies like it had never been there.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me,” Scott muttered.

They attacked again.

Faster.

Sharper.

This time, Scott barely blocked in time.

Claws scraped across his forearm, tearing fabric and skin. He hissed and countered with a punch that sent one demon reeling—but it recovered instantly.

Another blow caught him in the ribs.

Then another.

He staggered back, boots skidding.

“Right,” Scott said under his breath. “That’s new.”

The demons pressed in, movements more coordinated now, eyes burning with intent.

Scott blocked, countered, struck—again and again. Every hit landed. Every hit mattered.

And every wound healed.

A claw tore across his shoulder.

A fist slammed into his stomach, knocking the breath from his lungs.

He retaliated, driving his elbow into a demon’s throat, feeling cartilage give—only for it to reform seconds later.

Blood dripped from Scott’s lip.

The alley felt smaller now.

Another hit landed squarely in his chest.

Then another.

Then another.

He was pushed back violently, feet leaving the ground as he slammed into the wall behind him.

Stone cracked on impact.

Scott slid down, landing hard on the ground.

His vision blurred for a moment.

The demons approached slowly, surrounding him.

Scott coughed, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Well,” he muttered, forcing himself upright, “this is… inconvenient.”