Dashing Devil Omnibus 2: Books 4-6, page 52
It was that last part that gave Boyd pause.
“We’ll begin in fifteen, fourteen, thirteen…” Boyd shifted his stance slightly, widening his response radius at the cost of close-range defense.
The second sword wasn’t news, the Blonde Buffoon had proudly broadcast the newly mastered use of his Power. Those wings, however, changed things up. While not fluid or natural looking, the way they flexed and extended implied a higher level of control over the energy limbs than Boyd had expected.
“Last chance, Corruptor.” Archangel’s sneer took on a smug quality, believing his new trick would surely win him the day. “Forfeit as soon as it begins, and I’ll let you live.”
Boyd just smiled and released his hold on his aura as the commentator counted down, “Five, four, three…”
Watching the smug sneer falter just before the commentator hit one was almost enough to put a devilish grin on Boyd’s face. He was aiming for calm determination during the opening of the duel, though, so sated the urge by pushing his Black Flame into his sword and shield instead.
He held it for the three count it took Archangel to rectify the anxiety he suddenly felt in the big demon’s presence as both sides of the stadium cheered. After those three seconds, Archangel Flashed into golden light and Boyd whirled, just barely getting his shield up in time to block a descending golden wing.
His sword arched out to intersect another as they closed on him like pinchers, bladed feathers pointed in as the previously immobile wings swung around Archangel at Boyd. They shattered upon his Black Flame, the golden fire that apparently also burned within them boiling forth over and around Boyd’s darkly burning sword and shield.
Boyd had to react quickly, guarding against Archangel’s second set of wings, dropping both sword and shield to block the lower set. Then his training kicked in and the big demon started categorizing his opponent’s dangerous new abilities. The wings seemed to operate in pairs, the first that came in was the center pair, then the lower pair.
Boyd now understood Archangel’s strange stance, he had to keep his limbs from being lopped off by his own attacks.
Archangel flashed away, and Boyd had to whirl to block another two sets of wings, again the middle followed by the lower pair. Archangel’s wings weren’t nearly as long as Boyd’s, but their length allowed him to stay out of range of Boyd’s immediate reach. The pattern stuck—two pincer attacks, then Archangel flashed back away before trying again.
Boyd whirled around to block another two attacks, but the pattern changed. This time, the lower and then upper pair of wings swung in together, though the result was the same. When the many bladed energy wings met Black-Flame-infused sword or shield they shattered into golden fireballs that washed over Boyd’s skin.
When Archangel flashed away, Boyd whirled.
This went on a dozen more times, Boyd whirling to intercept each double-pincher-move before it could reach him. The addition of the wings was enough to make Boyd wish he’d spent a little more time running through anti-porter drilling these past thirty days. Or spent more of them on porter simulations with a mid-range attack capability, at the least.
If things continued like this, he would be in trouble. So, Boyd changed things up.
The next time Archangel flashed away to come at him from another angle, he dived forward instead of whirling. The big demon evaded the first attack by not being where Archangel thought he would be. The second pair came in as his tight roll had him on his back, Archangel swinging the uppermost wings down at him. The big demon evaded this attack with a short push of his wings and tail, propelling himself upright and forward into a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn.
He slammed his right toes into the stone of the fighting ring, dragging a furrow through the sturdy ring and twisting to continue his spin, blunt obsidian ‘sword’ extended.
Coming around the full three hundred and sixty degrees almost scored him a solid strike, Archangel flashing into place as the sword closed on him. He’d thought to pop up behind Boyd and finally catch him in his bladed pincers. Instead, his blue eyes widened as the large, darkly burning rod nearly clipped his shoulder.
Fortunately for Archangel, he was able to flash out of the way. Boyd had held too much back—out of fear of splattering the Blonde Buffoon across the arena floor in front of the crowded stadium and those watching from the comfort of their homes.
Unfortunately for the demon, Archangel was able to retain enough composure to immediately jump back onto the offensive after blinking two meters back, forcing the frustrated demon to whirl and return to the defensive. Boyd studied the pattern through another dozen attacks. His opponent always swung the sets together, high, middle, or low.
Archangel tried to keep some variance in which he used and in what order, but he avoided leaving only the bottom set remaining before flashing away, resulting in him using those to attack more often than the others. When Boyd picked up on another preference—to leave the top set whole and not attack with them unless he had to—he realized this was purely out of vanity.
The Blonde Buffoon did look silly for that moment when he had only the bottom set of golden glowing wings out, but that hardly seemed a reason to let himself form predictable habits.
Then again, one of the reasons Boyd was frustrated was because the addition of the mid-range attack forced him on the defensive, constantly dodging and dancing out of the path of Archangel’s wings. He’d hoped to spend several minutes schooling the egoist like a kid back at the PAC. He’d wanted to show off a bit.
Ultimately, it was his own vanity that was causing him so much frustration. That, and not being able to safely close the distance to slap the jerk upside the head with his stick on his angelic love’s behalf.
Archangel wore a massive grin as he flashed about, swinging his wings in to close on Boyd like some sort of massive beetle with multiple sets of pincers. Boyd was quite sure he looked less cool than he thought he did—though that was small consolation, considering how smoothly the odd-looking attack countered Boyd’s ability to act offensively.
Add to that the fact that Boyd’s exposed skin was starting to pick up an itch wherever the golden flames repetitively washed over it, and that frustration started tasting a bit like concern. The effort was minor, Boyd had trained to keep similar defenses up for hours at a time.
That itch, however, implied that Archangel’s golden fire wasn’t as harmless as he thought. It wasn’t enough to cause him actual pain, but damage was accumulating. Eventually, it might be enough to slow him down. He couldn’t make this a battle of attrition without knowing the limits of Archangel’s endurance, which he did not.
Boyd found himself wishing he’d brought one of Tinker’s various ranged options as he continued to whirl and defend against those golden wings, doing what he could to limit how much of the golden of fire contacted his skin. He’d rejected any ranged tools out of fear of a miss that might pierce the forcefield that protected the spectators.
A deflection might kill one or more of the spectators, resulting in his disqualification. Tinker hadn’t been allowed access to the schematics of the forcefield they installed and without her sign off he wasn’t prepared to trust it.
Now, Boyd just wished he had something to throw without infusing his Black Flame into it, just to break up his opponent’s pattern and buy him a moment to act. He could have thrown it softly given the unstable stance he would be seeking to destabilize.
Boyd had clearly underestimated his enemy and was coming to regret it.
Chapter 53
Hope had been forced to attend the duel in the box assigned to Eden’s Protectors with the rest of her team. Fortunately, they all chose to make use of the overstuffed leather chairs and watch on the big view screen, each with a sycophant or two fawning over them. She had pushed as close to the ‘field of battle’ as she possibly could.
While she could hear their obnoxious cheers from inside, she had the balcony all to herself.
She could even see Mindy, Raev, Tinker, Daisy, Laura, Royce, cute little Connor, and the rest of Boyd’s party across the way in their own booth. Sort of… if she squinted real hard. She pretended to be among the family she would soon be joining.
Of course, Hope recognized that she found the cheering of her teammates and the spectators on this side of the area obnoxious because it was for Archangel. It didn’t help, but one had to be aware of such things. To be fair, the Blonde Buffoon’s supporters had a lot to cheer about—on the surface at least.
She giggled at the internal use of the nickname Silvie had taken to using for Archangel. To all the onlookers, even Hope, it looked like Boyd was stuck on the defensive. He seemed unable to attack, lest those wings pierce him.
If only the man she loved could go on the offensive and change things up.
Hope had been shocked when Archangel had first used the ability. He had apparently been training in secret. He had always hinted vaguely at some hidden skill he was working on, but Hope had thought it was yet another feeble attempt to impress her. She almost wished she had accepted one of his offers to watch one of his private training sessions, but the way he’d said the word ‘private’ had skeeved her out.
On second thought, she was really glad she hadn’t taken the Blonde Buffoon up on it.
Boyd would handle it… he was handling it. Her lovely demon had reacted to the new ability smoothly. She’d even noted the way his stance had shifted to counter it before the first new attack was made. He hadn’t stopped smiling since the start the fight—except now that confident little smirk of his featured an occasional flash of teeth that set her heart aflutter when she saw it on the big screen.
It was certainly a dynamic display, Boyd turning from foot to foot, moving very little as a storm of golden fire raged around him. His darkly burning sword and shield never failed to be where they were needed to destroy a set of Archangel’s deadly looking energy wings, cutting dark arcs through the golden firestorm.
Of course, he would wear that same smirk—Silvie had called it has battle smirk—even if he was being badly beaten.
A more reassuring sign was the fact that Silvie was calmly watching and wearing a content expression, the adoring one that she got when she watching him run through a training routine that showed off all his juicy Boyd-ness. Hope recognized it when an image of Silvie flashed every so often on one of the big screens. The silver haired beauty’s expression might have been described as ‘serene’ by most observers, but Hope knew it meant her best friend was having naughty thoughts.
That, more than anything, told Hope that she need not worry. Silvie only let herself get distracted while watching Boyd fight if his opponent wasn’t a true threat and the outcome was predetermined. If there was even the slightest chance of defeat, she would have been cheering wildly, encouraging him to hang in there or to turn the tables on his opponent—like his supporters in the crowd were doing.
Hope was prepared to allow her soon to be sister-wife’s attitude to soothe her when another knocked on her mental door. She let Mindy in with warm greetings, not allowing past grudges to taint the welcome.
‘Oh, wow… hi there. You’re really warm. How do you feel about cuddling? Never mind, how are you doing? You feel better than I expected… on the surface, at least.’ Mindy’s mental voice spoke into Hope’s mind.
“I’m okay,” Hope whispered, smiling over at the box she saw Mindy sitting off in a corner with Laura, watching the fight on a big screen. “I can tell by Silvie’s reaction that Boyd is doing better than he looks, too.”
‘Kuh-he!’ Mindy giggled. ‘You three. I swear… Okay, cool. I expected to have to reassure you—sorry I didn’t get here sooner, but it took forever to find you through all the noise. Solid defenses by the way… like really solid.”
Hope tingled inside at the praise.
“Anyway, things will change in a minute. When they do, spread your wings a bit to make it easier for Boyd to find you. He expected to have time to find you using his peripherals, but I doubt he has.’
“Okay,” Hope breathed as she beamed down at her sweetling of a demon, boldly fighting for her freedom and yet still planning to take a moment of his time to find her in the crowd. “I can do that.”
‘Kuh-he! You’re just… sweet all the way down, aren’t you? Okay, I’m going to go hide in Laura’s head before I pass out. Sorry, but having several thousand thoughts shouting at me sucks. Can’t wait for you to join us. It will be soon.’
Hope felt as Mindy retreated from her mind. Hope pouted in her direction; upset she didn’t have time to communicate her thanks for subjecting herself to the unpleasantness of so many thoughts on her behalf. She’d settled for thanking Mindy later and returned to watching her brave knight demonstrate his love by fighting for her freedom.
*****
Boyd whirled and blocked twin blows aimed to cut him in half for at least three minutes. He only heard the crowd as a vague background roar, the commentator’s dramatic play-by-play egging them on. He was able that to tell there was a lot more cheering coming from Archangel’s side than his.
That suited him just fine—for now.
He tossed in another rolling dodge, testing to see if he could catch his opponent off guard. Archangel was more cautious this time, and Boyd didn’t get as close to a clean hit as he had the first time. At least the buffoon was capable of learning.
“Neat trick,” Boyd rumbled after being forced back on the defensive.
“Trick?” Archangel scoffed as his middle wings closed like pincers and Boyd shattered them into fireballs. “I’ve been working on this technique for six years!” The bottom pair of wings followed the first, bursting into golden fire in the same way.
“This is no trick, Corruptor,” Archangel snarled after flashing in behind him to try again. “Tricks are your domain; this is pure skill and talent!” he declared proudly as his lower wings were shattered and he flashed away again.
“Are you scared, demon?” he asked, scorn dripping from his words as he appeared to launch his next attack. “I might still let you live… if you beg.”
“Hmmmm…” Boyd made a non-committal sound, trying to maintain a straight face but intentionally failing. He let out a snicker instead. He chose that moment to start leaning on his aura, slowly ramping up the intensity and the effect.
“What’s so funny, monster?” Archangel sneered through his next attack.
“Well…” Boyd blocked the attack, catching a bath of the itching fire as he continued to whirl in place to defend against the next attack. “It’s just… You do realize that they have directional mics on us, and everyone heard that, right?”
“So?” Archangel snarled. “I’m glad they did.”
Boyd couldn’t help but roll his eyes, which was a bad idea, tactically speaking. He would scold himself later for the momentary weakness. For now, he had a ‘Hero’ who needed scolding a lot more.
“You’re a freaking Hero,” Boyd rumbled with a laugh. “Heroes don’t get to offer to let people live… if they beg. The people you fight get to live unless they are a direct danger to civilians. That’s the default setting. No begging required.”
“You’re a danger to civilians everywhere!” the Blonde Buffoon snarled in response before flashing away and continuing his diatribe. “I’ll kill you before your vile influence can infect any more people!”
“For another thing,” Boyd chuckled, ignoring the baseless comment. “You really should have let me think you picked this up in a month. Now, the only impressive thing is that you managed to keep it to yourself for six whole years. How did you manage not to brag about it?” He ended his rumble on a high note, injecting some wonder into his tone as he whirled, sword and shield constantly in motion as he bathed in golden fire.
“I… Just perfected it!” Archangel ended firmly after an uncertain pause.
Boyd disagreed, but for once decided not to educate an enemy—supposed Hero, or not. If Archangel got anywhere near natural control over his energy limbs, he would become a true terror. For now, he’d provided more than enough action shots to the ravenous spectators and viewers.
Grin firmly in place, Boyd reached out with his Mental Domination, blew past some paltry mental defenses, and slammed his tether home into the Blonde Buffoon’s psyche. Then he hooked the other end of that tether to the vault buried deep in the heavily fortified fortress—the one that contained his worst fears.
Boyd was curious to see what would happen.
*****
Daisy blinked in surprise as Archangel froze up in the middle of one of his attacks. The microphone that had been playing his smarmy voice over the speakers on their balcony emitted a strangled, gurgling sound. Then, Boyd’s big, armored foot planted itself in Archangel’s chest and sent the Blonde Buffoon tumbling—ass over tea-kettle—across the stone square they were fighting in.
“Ha ha ha ha,” she heard Boyd’s bemused bass chuckle over the same speakers. “You’re worse than the dragon, and she wasn’t truly sentient.”
“I knew it!” Connor shouted in delight.
Her brother leaped high enough into the air that Daisy shifted forward, prepared to catch him if he went over the railing. He’d insisted on watching from the balcony with the other kids, who all wanted to see the fight with their own eyes. With the way it had been going, some of them seemed to be regretting the decision.
Not Connor, though.
He and a core group of his new friends were doing their best to keep the other’s spirits up as that gorgeous idiot fought what looked like a losing battle. While it had been sweet, Connor saying things like, “Come on, guys… you’ll see. Dashing Devil would never lose,” to the kids around him in a sadly hopeful tone had simultaneously broken Daisy’s heart while pissing her off.
How dare that idiot get her little brother’s hopes up, making himself Connor’s Hero, then let him down like this? Only, apparently, he hadn’t.
