Page 55 of Truth Revealed

Choking back a laugh, Hope closed in behind the other demon—Stress, apparently. Misery didn’t make eye contact with him, but gave him a barely perceptible nod. Then, in just a few simple moves, they both had the demon down in a perfect show of teamwork.

Hope closed in and Misery dropped into a crouch. It opened up the counter space in front of Stress, and Hope grabbed the back of his head before slamming it into the marble countertop. Twice.

His body smacked against the floor and Misery stood with a shake of his shoulders. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem. Come with me,” he directed, and led Misery through the living room and out the front door. The others seemed to have the demons mostly under control.

Meanwhile, Hope had a bitch to hunt.

Pandora couldn’t have gotten far.

* * *

DEATH

Death met Hope’s gaze as he darted for the front door after Pandora, and he nodded.

With Deceit and the demon Misery had been fighting out of the picture, the numbers were more even.

With a quick slice of a borrowed blade from the demon in front of him, Death dropped the shirt he’d been fisting. Crimson pooled on the floor from the shallow slice in the demon’s throat, but he’d live.

Huffing at the lame joke, Death wiped the blade on his thigh so he wouldn’t get blood on Daria’s floor. Movement caught his gaze. A slim figure in all black bounded up the stairs two at a time. After a shout of alert to the others, Death took off after him.

The steps creaked and cried out under his boots, but he didn’t care about alerting the demon. They should know he was coming, and they should be very afraid.

Daria had been attacked at the bar, innocents threatened. And then their home was invaded.

Death’s last fuck had run out. He had no more mercy left.

As he reached the second floor, he quieted his footsteps, avoiding the weak spots in the floor he’d become accustomed to avoiding while he was up all hours of the night.

That saying, death never sleeps? It’s actually Death never sleeps, and unfortunately, it was true as fuck.

Death paused as a shadow passed underneath the door of Persy’s room at the end of the hall. Silently, his steps ate up the distance and paused just outside. A panicked voice was whispering, chanting over and over again, and he strained to hear what they were saying.

“Answer, answer… fuck, where are you?”

Calling in the cavalry? I don’t think so.

Death eased open the door, too tired for the dramatics. The chanting stopped instantly, and Death paused. A very young looking demon was inside the room, his hands raised by his head, palms out, and he was white as a sheet. The window was open behind him, sheets piled up on the bed as if they’d been used to slip out the window.

“Sneaking out after curfew?” Death teased.

“Okay, listen,” he started, backing up. “I’m not with them.”

“Well, you’re here, invading our home, attacking us,” Death stated calmly, taking a step forward as his hand tightened around the hilt of his blade.

“Do I look like I’m attacking you?” he snapped, gaze darting to the knife.

“Where’s your phone?” Death demanded. Who had he been calling?

“Uhm…” His eyes flickered around the room and his bottom lip disappeared between his teeth.

Death simply arched a brow.

“I threw it out the window,” he blurted.

“Why?”