Unseen (The Heights, Vol. 1) (25 page)

She wanted to close her eyes, pretend none of
this was happening, but she didn’t dare. She had to be prepared to
move all three of them if the fire got any closer. But if she did
that, they’d be visible, exposed. Then the fire and everything else
wouldn’t be problems anymore because the demons would kill
them.

The room was overwhelmed by fear and death.
Bodies—either trampled or burned—were everywhere, except around the
star-shaped section in the middle of the floor. Even in outright
panic, no one dared go near the pentagram. Blue and white flame
consumed everything it touched, its creators only careful where
they aimed because burning everything at the same time wouldn’t be
as fun.

But what brought tears to her eyes, made her
whimper and her breath hiccup, wasn’t the carnage or fear. It was
the small group in the middle—Rhyse, Logan, Micah, Graham, and a
few she didn’t know—who didn’t give up or back down and who fought
for more than just their own lives.

Despite the chaos around him, Rhyse’s gaze
was drawn to one of his own kind—the vampire champion. Having known
Lamere since his turning, Rhyse knew all that Lamere was capable
of. A mistake too long neglected. The younger vampire acknowledged
Rhyse, nodding respectfully, and then looked pointedly towards
Addison, all while holding a female seer by the throat. It was
enough for Rhyse to understand his proposition. One life for many,
far more than Lamere knew.

The vampire champion could have seen what
happened to the werewolf after he bit Addison. If he’d witnessed
the were’s midair transformation when Rhyse threw him into the wall
to knock him out, Lamere knew what she was. But he would stay
silent as long as Rhyse allowed him certain…liberties.

Although he had no proof, Rhyse suspected
this wasn’t
Lamere’s
first time breaking
the law, nor would it be his last unless Rhyse stopped him. But
there was a reason the vampire had been chosen as champion this
year; the same reason he had won the contest a century ago. He was
strong and smart and brutal. And psychotic.

Rhyse looked into the wide eyes of the seer,
saw the unbridled fear Lamere should have removed from her mind but
had chosen not to. Disgustedly, he agreed to the deal, knowing how
many would die if he tried to save that one being. But he held
Lamere’s gaze, making his promise clear: the next time they saw
each other would be the last time Lamere ever saw anything again. A
moment later, the vampire and the seer were gone.

Rhyse refocused on saving the lives he’d just
traded the seer’s for. He phased to the enormous chandelier two
demons of different breeds were using as a refueling station. The
demons were all from the lower levels of hell; therefore, they had
very little to lose by creating chaos, damage, and death. For the
most part, demons could control the heat they expended, but these
wouldn’t bother. Instead they became corporeal to increase their
immeasurable body temperature and use it as a weapon. The only way
to defeat them was to strike while they were concentrating on
condensing that heat. If they saw Rhyse, they would simply change
into their incorporeal form as a defense. But at least they could
do no direct physical damage as such.

Because there were two, he waited, hanging
from the chain above them, knowing demons rarely had the courage to
look up. The two eventually neared each other, probably because
those they chose to victimize began to congregate on one side of
the ballroom. As soon as the demons were a few feet apart, Rhyse
dove, grabbing one by the neck and the other by a hooked appendage.
He brought his hands together, effectively clapping them into each
other, knocking them senseless.

But this wasn’t a long term solution, nor
could he stay above while so many were burning below. Of those
beings still alive, most didn’t have the means to flee or the
ability to fight. Fortunately, a few were surprisingly skilled and
strong, including Addison’s seer friend.

“Do not let them touch you, Seer,” Rhyse
called as soon as he phased in. “They will turn you to dust.”

“Then how the fuck am I supposed to stop
them?” the seer yelled back.

“You are not.” He moved just as a demon
swooped down to snatch Logan. Rhyse tackled the seer, feeling the
intense burn hit his back before phasing himself and Logan to
another area.

Tempest was trying to fight a demon without
touching him, but she was far too young to stand a chance against
one from the lower levels. Rhyse caught her by the collar and
yanked her backwards, a ball of fire striking the space she’d just
vacated.

“Get the other beings out. One by one,
Tempest. Start with the seers.” They were the most defenseless.

“Did you say the seers?” she asked
doubtfully.

“Yes. Take them.”

She glanced at Logan, who stood behind Rhyse.
“The seers?”

“Tempest, stop repeating yourself and do as I
say.” When this ended, he would have to come up with a diplomatic
reason for the change in his behavior.

Logan backed up when Tempest moved towards
him. “The
other
seers.”

“Your loss.” A moment later, Rhyse saw her
hook another male by his belt.

“The females, Tempest,” Rhyse called, angry
at himself for not thinking of it earlier. “Keep the females away
from the demons.”

She nodded, disappearing with the male and
then, a moment later, she was fifty feet away, her arm around a
female. “Relax. I’m going to get you out.”

Without an area to confine the demons, all
Rhyse and the others could do was keep them from more murder and
destruction. Most of the house’s wards had been lowered for the
evening for the convenience of the multitude of guests. While it
would take a bit of time for the demons to escape, the remaining
wards couldn’t hold them back indefinitely, and the ramifications
of this many lower-levels escaping into his zone might be worse
than having a dat vitae in his zone.

Salt was scattered everywhere, spread by the
numerous feet of panicking beings. “Repair the line,” he said to
Logan. The seer didn’t hesitate, even though he’d just accepted the
most dangerous job in the room. As soon as the demons understood
what he was doing, they focused their attacks on him.

“Summon the demon,” Rhyse called to Addison’s
angel.

“I think we got more than we need already!”
Logan yelled.

“Davyn?” the angel said, flinching when a
fireball grazed the tip of his wing. He was using himself as a
shield for Logan to work behind, but it was taking a toll.

“Tell him to find other level-ones who can
help.” Demons didn’t ‘help’ anyone. But even if Logan repaired the
line and they somehow trapped every demon inside it, the only way
to send this many back to hell was to call in another demon. One
that had worked very hard for his position at the surface and
didn’t have patience with those who jumped the line.

“I’m already here, Vamp,” came a grumbly
voice from across the room. The bastard sat in a chair, long legs
stretched out in front of him, watching the fight as if he were at
a boxing match.

“Davyn, so nice to see you again.” He phased
between words, snapping the long neck of a horned demon before it
was able to spit fire. Unfortunately, the break would only slow the
immortal down. “Now help us.”

“Why? You’re doing fine.” And this was
another reason Rhyse hated demons, although the level of arrogance
seemed to belong exclusively to this one. Unfortunately, it also
came with incredible skill, high intelligence, and as much
integrity as was possible in his kind.

“You find it acceptable for lower-levels to
freely explore above the crust, then?” Rhyse tossed a demon into a
grouping of chairs, his hands now completely numbed by demon
burn.

“Fuck no! They’re a bunch of cheaters, and
I’m pretty sure cheating is a sin.” He looked at the angel,
smirking. “Right, M?” Davyn stood up casually, his gaze moving from
one of his race to another. “Fine. I’ll help, but you’re going to
owe me a new suit. And this one wasn’t cheap.” He pointed to a
winged demon shooting small balls of fire at a group of three
terrified seers, laughing each time they were forced to run the
other direction. “Can I take this one or did you already call
him?”

“You are a guest in my home, so by all means,
help yourself to whatever you would like.” Rhyse turned as soon as
he saw Davyn grab the being. He heard a squawk and a few moments
later Davyn appeared again, wiping his hands on his pants.

“Was that too much to ask?” Rhyse
grumbled.

“It’s not Disneyland down there, you
know.”

After knowing Davyn for three tours topside,
Rhyse understood who he was at the beginning of a tour and who he
was near the end of one. He also knew it was impossible for the
demon to pass up a deal—even more so if negotiation was involved.
“I will give you three thousand for every one you take back.”

“Ten. And the new suit.”

“There are quite a few demons, Davyn. If I
give you four apiece, you can buy your own suit.”

“Well, of course I can buy my own suit, but I
don’t want to. Seven and the suit, or you get nothing. Well, you
can have this jacket if you want. It’s got a few scorch marks but
otherwise it’s—” He snagged a demon out of the air just before it
hit Logan. As soon as he realized what the seer was working on, he
shot backwards without losing his grip on the very nervous-looking
demon.

“Done,” Rhyse shouted. “Just take them back
to hell.”

“Don’t take me back. Not yet.” The demon’s
mouth was nothing but teeth that corrupted his speaking skills.

“Did you say something, asshole?” Davyn
asked, smiling. “I couldn’t quite make that out. I think it’s
because of all the screaming. Don’t worry about it—I’ll be able to
understand you better down under.”

“No!” Then both of them were gone.

Cleaning up wasn’t a short process, but
eventually a system developed wherein members of each race used
their particular skills and attributes to gather, contain, and
remove the demons who had escaped. Those who didn’t dispose of the
demons aided in putting out fires and bringing the injured to human
hospitals or the Highworld clinics, depending on the severity of
their wounds and the physiology of their race.

Throughout all of it, Rhyse had stayed aware
of where Addison was, ready to kill any who dared touch her. She
was exhausted—physically and emotionally—but her strength during
the fiasco surprised him greatly. The vitae hadn’t stepped away
from the two women she seemed to have claimed as her own, despite
the increased danger they put her in. He sensed she would’ve fought
a demon before leaving them behind. Of course, he never would have
let it go that far. Because Addison was his.

Once things were settling, he went to her and
picked her up off the ground. “Your wards need medical care,
Addison. Someone will take them to the hospital.”

She wiped her large eyes, her tears seeming
to be more from smoke than sadness. “Can you take them?”

He tightened his lips to contain his amused
grin. The Prime caring for a seer? “I will send them with someone I
trust. Graham and Tempest will—”

“Can’t you?” she asked again quietly.
Unfortunately, she had now put him in a position he didn’t want to
be in. If anyone had overheard…

“I cannot be seen accommodating a seer’s
needs.”

“I know. It’s just that everyone else looks
so incredibly exhausted, but you’re still amazingly strong. Maybe
it would be better for
all
your people if you did it. Take
one, or two, for the team.”

He bowed his head to her astute manipulation
of their situation.

“It might also remind them of what a stud you
are,” she whispered.

“I grow more and more impressed with you,
Addison.” His gaze swept around the room, stopping on those beings
strong enough to continue. There were very few stops. “Very well,
but I will not leave you here alone any longer than necessary. I
will be quick and you will speak to no one. Do you understand?”

“Be careful with them—they’re friends.” She
watched as he lifted the women, one limp in his arms and the other
able to stand on her own feet…for a few seconds. “Thank you, Rhyse.
For saving me.”

After looking at her for a moment, he nodded.
“I am glad you are not dead.”

The fight had invigorated Rhyse enough to
regain any confidence in his power and strength that may have been
lost after his injury. But it also left an echo of the screams that
filled the hall and the anxiety he’d felt at seeing Addison so
close to death.

Everything was different now. Everything was
more dangerous.

Addison stood in the middle of the empty
pentagram, unable to focus on the damage because it was
everywhere—burnt or murdered or trampled or broken. She shivered
despite the heat from random patches of demon fire the angels had
yet to put out.

She didn’t envy the disposal tech who had
this
route. Without even counting the bodies completely
cremated by demon fire, it would take at least three vials of
dusting powder for this many. And the cleaning crew would have to
be huge—most of the bodies were seers. She was both disgusted and
thankful—none of them were people she knew. Was that terrible to
admit? Even to herself?

“So much for the bravery of champions,” she
mumbled. Micah and Logan were the only ones who’d stuck around to
help. Although that could also have meant the others were smarter.
Logan was bruised and bloody but had an odd, almost triumphant look
on his face. Maybe because he hadn’t died on a night he expected
to.

She squinted when she saw a lump of gray,
wondering what it was. Making sure to step over the line carefully,
she went to go see.