As I struggle to stay conscious, I watch as Jareth springs into action, his left fist connecting with the demon’s head followed by his right fist slamming into its stomach. Green blood spurts from the demon’s bulbous nose and the creature grunts in agony as it tries to hit Jareth back with weakened limbs. But my vampire ex-boyfriend is too strong, too quick, dodging his blows while raining down more of his own. I grin, pride swelling inside me as I watch his technique. Sometimes I forget he’s been a vampire general for hundreds of years. His prowess in battle is awesome.
I feel movement above me and realize Race is holding out a hand, ready to help me to my feet. I take it, pulling myself up and preparing to help Jareth out with the guard—not that he probably needs it. But just as I manage to take that first stumbling step back into battle, the bloody, beaten guard manages to pull a whistle from around his neck and put it to his lips.
Suddenly, five more demon-shaped shadows emerge from the darkness from all sides.
Uh-oh.
The largest of the new demons—a seven-foot-tall monster—grabs Jareth by his shirt and yanks him off the guard he’d been fighting, as if he were nothing more than a pesky fly. I gasp in horror as he locks my ex-boyfriend in a crushing embrace and points a stake straight at his heart. The other guards surround us, spears pointed and ready.
“That’s enough!” the giant guard cries. “Surrender now or he will die!”
I slowly raise my hands and Jareth and Race do the same. What else can we do? One false move and Jareth will become a permanent resident of this place. I let out a frustrated breath. What was I thinking, going after that guy like that? Once again, I’m too brave for my own good and have put people I love in danger.
“Look,” I try, taking a cautious step forward, wanting desperately to atone for my idiocy, “we’re not here to cause any harm. We tried to check in with your boss, but Cerberus turned us away. Trust me, we don’t want to be here, wandering around, any more than you want us to be.”
“And what business do you have with the Master?” one of the other guards demands, grabbing his spear and poking it uncomfortably in my direction. What happens when one gets staked here? I wonder wildly. Do you go back to the other side of the river and start all over again? ’Cause I’m guessing Charon won’t be too excited about giving me another free trip. Especially since he did warn me about the patrol…
“We only wanted to pay our respects,” I try. No need to bring up the whole thing about my sister. “You know, bow to him, seek out his wisdom, all that jazz?” I take another cautionary step forward, trying to keep a brave face.
Big mistake.
The guards react, surrounding me and suddenly I have spears pointed at pretty much all my extremities. “Sorry, sorry!” I cry, holding my hands up higher. “I didn’t mean to—”
“You will surrender to us now,” the head guard states in a flat voice. “Or we shall drive you through.”
“But—”
“Rayne!” Jareth interrupts, still pinned by the other guard. His face is white and filled with fear. “How about we do as the nice gentlemen say, shall we?” he suggests in a taut voice.
Right. Of course he’s right. Just shut up, Rayne. For one second, just shut the hell up.
“Fine,” I resign, dropping my hands. “We surrender, I guess.”
The head guard drops his stake from Jareth’s chest and the others retract their spears. Three of them pull out cords of silver rope and begin roughly tying our wrists together behind our backs. The silver burns at my skin in the most itchy, painful way imaginable and I squirm as one of the guards tightens my restraints. “Okay, okay, I’m bound and helpless already. Enough!” I cry. Not that I’m under any delusion that my protests will do any good.
Once we’re all tied up, the head guard barks an order to his men in some weird demon language, and one of them shoves me so hard in the back that I almost trip over my own feet again. Guess that’s our cue to start walking. I shuffle forward, doing my best to keep my balance with my hands tied behind my back. From the windows of the buildings surrounding us, I can see curious eyes, watching the scene attentively. Ugh. Don’t they have anything better to do? And won’t anyone here try to help us?
Suddenly, as if in answer, a loud, almost primal cry crashes through the streets. The giant guard looks up in surprise, just in time to have a huge boulder—dropped from somewhere above—slam down hard on the top of his head. He lets out a groan of agony before collapsing to the ground in a dead faint.
As the other guards clamor around him, trying to make sure their leader is okay, I look up, trying to figure out where the rock had come from. It’s then that my eyes fall upon a blond, tanned, total meathead of a man, swooping down from a high hotel balcony, using a clothesline the way Tarzan would have used a vine. He drops down in front of the other guards and whips a sword from his belt, waving it menacingly in their direction. Ah, now there’s a weapon suited for demon slaying!
The demons—confused and disorganized without their fearless leader—scramble for their spears. But in the chaos, they mostly end up jabbing each other instead of our rescuer. The blond Adonis, who seems to possess the skills of a Samurai and the flexibility of a member of Cirque du Soleil, works quickly, slicing and dicing, and before you know it, there are five bleeding demons piled all around us, utterly incapacitated. Damn, this guy is good!
“Wow,” I cry, looking up at our rescuer, more than a little impressed. “Thanks!”