Page 127 of The Order of the Bitter Hunt

“I warned you!” Strode lunges in my direction.

I am one person. There are dozens. But it doesn’t matter if I lose.

This is the distraction the others were waiting for.

Jun’s mask is on the ground, and the witch weapon is in his hand. Around him float a dozen hungry ghosts, just like the ones that follow his father.

“Charge!” Jun yells.

The ghosts dart to Strode in bursts of light, but as soon as they hit him, they dissipate.

“You cannot use the dead against me,” Strode says, with disappointment dripping from his words.

Jun doesn’t let it dissuade him, moving with more strength than I could muster. Each action is a graceful dance. He’s cat-like, lunging at his father and crashing into him before the demon can reach me.

The ghosts were another distraction.

Strode doesn’t want to hurt Jun, I realize, using far less force against his son. A demon against a half-demon should be an easy match for the demon. It isn’t. They’re two flames in a fight—they can create a bigger fire and burn it all down.

Rather than hitting back, Strode dodges the jab of Jun’s knife.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Strode says with a plea, sounding weaker or older than he has before.

“I do.” Jun disappears in a puff of smoke and reappears at his father’s back, his wings flapping to keep him mid-air. “I’ve been planning this for longer than you know. You forced me to take fighting classes, and each time, I imagined killingyou.”

“Why?” Strode asks. “I was there for you when your mother was not.”

“She died!”

The demon turns, his hands limp at his side. “I was the only parent you knew. Where did I go wrong?”

I understand now. Professor Connolly and I failed to disarm Strode in any other way because only Jun can. It’s not with fighting or begging, but through tugging at his heartstrings.

“You’re killing people,“ Jun says. “Do I really have to fucking explain why that’s wrong?”

As they continue to fight, it looks more like they’re sparring. Strode dodges each move without fighting back, but Jun gives it his all. He uses his magic to disappear and reappear, closer each time.

He appears in front of his father, inches from his old, rotten, wrinkled face. With a powerful move, Jun stabs the witch weapon into his chest. Strode moves a fraction. It’s enough, just enough that the knife sticks out from his shoulder, not his chest.

The demon shrieks, but what comes next is nowhere near what we need. He doesn’t disappear or melt—or do anything we expect.

Jun had one shot, and he missed it.

“My son…” Strode grabs the handle and pries the knife from his shoulder like it’s nothing. “I taught you better than this. You were supposed to be a stronger fighter—and a loyal man.”

With a smooth motion, the demon throws Jun at the wall, as he did to me. Jun’s blood smears and leaks from the back of his skull as he drops to the dirty club floor.

Jun sits up, defiant to the end, using his remaining strength to glare at his father. “I’m loyal to the right fucking people, and Father—you couldn’t be more wrong. About me, and about this.”

“I am saving lives. You may not agree with how I do it, but I am.”

“You’re right.” Jun spits blood from his mouth. “I don’t agree.”

The demon easily snaps the witch weapon in two. He turns to me, fixing me with a look of hatred. “You will pay for this. You turned my son against me.”

“I didn’t,” I say. “That was you.”

“Without my protection, the mouth of hell is open.” Strode’s gaze turns from me to my father, who cowers in fear. “I will not close it until your daughter pays her debt. Double. I want two willing mortal souls.”