“There’s nothing you can do. Not a thing.”
Something about the tone of Anton’s voice made Jon hesitate. He stopped running. That didn’t sound like the Anton Edwards he’d known before the quake.
Anton gestured for him to follow. “It’ll be easier if you come voluntarily.”
“What’ll be easier?”
Anton smiled. “Your execution, of course.”
Jon’s eyes narrowed. “Forget that.” He sprinted up the path. Suddenly, the dark places in front of him came to life. Four oversized demons stepped out of shadows that had clearly been too small to conceal them. Each demon was a different color and type, but they all had something in common—long claws and sharp teeth.
Jon slid to a halt. He looked back. Four more demons appeared behind him. It was a trap. Had Anton been compromised? No, it must have been something else.
Jon turned. “You’re not Mr. Edwards.”
Anton grinned. “It doesn’t matter now, does it?” He started laughing.
Jon remained unruffled. The look in his eyes was cold and deadly. “Nothing matters now.”
Anton stopped laughing. “He’s all yours, boys!” The demons surged forward, slowly at first. Then they came in a rush.
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