I adjusted my sweaty grip on Miriel, one of my seraph blades. My heart pounded loud and irregularly in my chest, the beat to my final dance. My eyes raked the shadows made beyond the streetlights' jurisdiction. I saw nothing that was out of the norm on a New York sidestreet. My heartbeat spiked. I fingered the witchlight pendant that hung from a silver chain around my neck, comforted by the fact that its light was there if I needed it.
A sharp pain like a cut blazed on my forearm. The Mark I had made for strength had faded away. I would need to make a new one. Keeping my ears open, I fumbled for my stele to make a new Mark. Curses as old as the world itself leapt to my lips as I realized it wasn't there. I shrank back into the alleyway, my gaze darting around the streets and buildings.
My only warning was a nearly inaudible hiss.
I spun around, throwing up my right arm to block the hideous black demon sword with the pure light that was Miriel. I ripped my second angel blade from my belt.
"Saziel," I whispered, and it glowed with silver light. I sliced at the demon's belly, but it sprang back with a hiss. I could now see it was an Eidolon demon in its human form. It seemed to be a boy with pale, almost deathly white skin and hair like fire. Its completely black eyes glared at me with undisguised hate. I allowed my lip to curl into a sneer. We both knew it was trapped. Apartment buildings rose on both sides of us, and its back was against a tall brick wall. I stood between it and the rest of the world.
With a sudden ferocity, the demon attacked me, chopping down at me head with its terrible black blade that matched its terrible black eyes. I flung Saziel, which it evaded with a fluid grace that I couldn't help but appreciate. I also couldn't help but appreciate the opening it gave me for my next attack.
Miriel sank into the demon's heart. With an unholy scream, it folded in on itself, leaving behind nothing but the stink of rancid demon blood.
I pulled out my last seraph blade and murmured its name, "Jophiel." I hated myself for my shaking hands as I held up my witchlight. Why was I afraid? The demon was gone. For Raziel's sake, I was a Shadowhunter. I killed demons, not the other way around. This was what I had trained for. My parents were in the Clave, and when I turned eighteen, I would be too. I would join the ranks of warriors whose legacy and regal blood had fought demons for thousands of years, completely unbeknownst to the mundane humans.
I strolled out of the alleyway and right into the jaws of a Drevak demon.
It clamped its crocodile teeth around my right arm, my best arm. With a growl, I ripped Jophiel across its scaly head, leaving a jagged rent that leaked black blood. It let go of me with a growl and slashed at me with its razor sharp claws. I stumbled back, barely evading the attack. The demon's poison was racing through my veins, fuzzing my brain and slowing my actions. The Drevak demon cackled and snapped at me. My breath was coming in ragged gasps now. The demon rose up on its hind legs, a savage glee in its stupid, beady eyes.
Ignoring my pain and my weakness, I rushed at the demon, Jophiel in my left hand and Miriel in my right. I dropped Miriel when my right arm completely stopped working. The demon screeched with triumph and clawed at my leg, slashing right through the tough black leather deep into my muscle. I swallowed my agony and pulled myself close to the Drevak's face. With a final surge of pure adrenaline, I sank Jophiel deep into its head, through its eye and into its brain. It disappeared with the same scream and rank odor as the Eidolon demon.
The impact of my knees on the black asphalt jarred my whole body. Pure pain blasted all my senses as if my fall had been a signal that I was allowed to feel again. With every exhale, I could feel my life slip away.
My vision was almost totally gone when slim, cold fingers lifted my chin. I found myself staring into eyes like liquid gold in a face framed by a halo of blonde hair. Concern was in every line of his angelic face.
"I'm . . . dying . . ." I gasped.
The boy nodded slowly. I could see the tell-tale black Marks above his black collar and relaxed, allowing my soul to escape its earthly limits.
A small smile lifted the corners of my mouth as I heard the boy whisper the old Shadowhunter phrase, "Ave atque vale."
Hail and farewell.