Lucien smelled them before he saw them.
The park's usual nighttime scents, wet grass, city dust, the faint perfume from flowers in the garden beds, were smothered by the stench of sulfur and burnt iron. Shadows shifted between the trees, their movements wrong in a way that made even the air seem to flinch.
Three of them.
They emerged from the darkness one by one. All were vaguely human in outline, but their bodies rippled with black smoke, as if their skin were burning from the inside out. Eyes glowed like coals in a dying fire.
The tallest demon leaned forward, sniffing the air. Its cracked lips curled back over jagged teeth. "You can't hide, little bird," it rasped, the voice like brittle stone grinding.
Selahael staggered back, her grip tightening on the marble fountain's rim. Her pale wings twitched faintly, a broken reflex.
Lucien stepped in front of her, his posture loose but his grip on the silver dagger unshakable. "She's not yours."
The demon's grin widened. "Everything that falls belongs to us."
The others moved with sudden speed, claws dragging along the stone path, sparks spitting from the friction.
Lucien moved faster.
The first one lunged low. He sidestepped, pivoting smoothly, and drove his dagger into its side. Black smoke hissed from the wound. The creature screeched, stumbling back, its body already trying to re-knit around the silver.
A shadow passed overhead. The second demon leapt, wings of ash unfolding with a bone-deep crack. It slammed into Lucien's chest, driving him back into the fountain hard enough to send water spilling over the edge. The cold shock jolted him, but instinct kicked in. He jammed his knee up into its stomach, twisted, and bit deep into its shoulder. The taste was worse than he remembered, like swallowing a handful of burnt nails.
The creature shrieked and thrashed, but he wrenched free just in time to duck the third demon's attack. Its wing sliced the air, shearing a chunk from the fountain's edge. Marble shards clattered onto the wet grass.
Selahael tried to raise her hand. A faint glow formed in her palm, soft as candlelight, but it flickered, faltered, and went out. She gasped, clutching her side, her knees buckling.
Lucien's voice cut through the chaos. "Stay down!"
One demon snarled and swiped at his face. He caught its wrist, twisted until bone cracked, and slashed across its throat. The wound hissed, edges glowing briefly before the flesh collapsed into dust.
The others slowed, circling him now, their movements more cautious. Rain began to fall in cold, sharp drops, each one catching the faint glow from the park's streetlamps.
Lucien rolled his shoulders, dagger glinting in the dim light. "Last chance to walk away."
They didn't.
The first came at him again, feinting right, then cutting low. He kicked it in the ribs, spinning to catch the other across the jaw with his elbow. They tried to flank him, but he used the fountain to block one's path, pinning the other against a tree and stabbing twice, quick and merciless. Its body convulsed before dissolving into drifting soot.
The final demon hesitated only a moment before rushing him in a blur of shadow. Lucien met it head-on, grabbing its arm and forcing the dagger up under its chin. The scream that followed rattled the air. When the body crumbled to ash, silence fell like a dropped curtain.
The rain came harder now, washing the black dust into the grass.
Lucien turned, searching for Selahael. She sat slumped against the fountain, skin ashen, golden blood seeping between her fingers. Even in the gloom, it shimmered faintly, catching the lamplight like molten metal.
He crossed to her quickly, crouching down. "We have to move."
"You can't protect me forever," she murmured, her voice almost lost to the rain.
"Not forever," he admitted, sliding an arm under her knees and another behind her back. "Just long enough."
She pushed weakly at his chest. "I can walk."
"No, you can't." He didn't wait for her permission.
The streets beyond the park were nearly empty, the rain driving most people indoors. Every shadow seemed alive to him now, every alley a possible trap. He kept his steps quick and quiet, his coat clinging heavy with water.
They reached the city's edge where an abandoned church stood, its steeple crooked, windows boarded, and vines clawing up its stone walls.
Lucien shouldered the door open. The hinges gave a long, low groan.
Inside, the air was cool and damp, smelling of dust, old wood, and something faintly sweet—dried flowers left decades ago on the altar. Pews stood in crooked rows, some collapsed under their own weight. A fractured beam of moonlight spilled through the broken roof, silvering the air with drifting dust.
He laid her on one of the sturdier benches near the front. She hissed softly when he pulled his arm back.
"Let me see it," he said.
She hesitated, eyes darting to the darkened corners of the church. "They could still be watching."
"They're gone. For now." His voice left no room for argument.
Reluctantly, she moved her hand. The wound was deep, the golden blood still leaking in a slow, steady stream. The sight stirred something strange in him—curiosity, hunger, and an instinct to protect that he thought he'd buried long ago.
He tore a strip from his cloak and pressed it against the wound. She flinched but didn't push him away.
"Who were they?" he asked.
Her gaze didn't waver, but her voice dropped. "They've been hunting me since I fell."
"That's not enough. Who sent them?"
Her lips tightened. "If I told you, you'd try to kill them."
He gave a humorless smile. "That's the idea."
She looked away, her breath unsteady. "Some things… can't be killed."
The rain drummed steadily against the broken roof. A gust of wind slipped through the cracks, stirring the faint scent of ash again. Lucien's hand lingered near the dagger at his belt.
"You need to rest," he said finally.
She let her eyes close, but not fully. "If they find me again… I won't survive."
Lucien's jaw tightened. "Then I'll make sure they don't."