Free Phoenix Contract: Part Four (Fallen Angel Watchers) by Melissa Thomas

familiar somehow,” Acerbitas said, voice dulcet and seductive, moving through his thoughts like a warm breeze.
    “Do I?” Magnus asked, non-committal.
    “Yes, you do, very much so, except that I can’t seem to pin it down exactly why,” she said. “Maybe we’ve met? I’d estimate you to be at least three thousand years old, based on your aura and vibe.”
    He chuckled. “I see, so you’re an expert at guesstimating the age of immortals? I didn’t know that enchanted swords got into that New Age hocus-pocus. Do you have much experience at it, love? Do you think you could read my palm?”
    She huffed. “Mock me at your own risk!”
    “I think I just did so,” he replied, wearing a grin that faded quickly. He was not meant to be here in the belly of the earth, not now, not ever. He resented the task that had taken him away from Matthew’s side in the priest’s final hours. Decades before, Magnus had made a promise: to see to his friend’s final death, to deliver a proper and peaceful ending to the priest’s life.
    Determination drove him from the relatively airy station and into the dark and narrow tunnel. Tight knots of tension twisted his gut as he entered the only place he feared. He would rather have burnt in the sun than risk becoming trapped beneath the earth.
    However, it was all about choices, and above all else, Magnus contended to be a predator. This Soul Eater, a rival wolf had entered his forest and taken to hunting his humans, and assaulted the one mortal that the Celt regarded as an equal. Magnus had no choice but to address the affront.
    “He came this way,” Magnus volunteered, assuring the sword that they were on the right trail. “I can sense him.”
    “Good,” Acerbitas said. “Why are you so uncomfortable?”
    “I don’t come down here very often,” Magnus replied with another indifferent shrug. The sides of the tunnel he’d been following seemed to get narrower, even though the actual width of the track had not changed. He could feel the walls closing in, and the only relief he found came when they passed briefly through each of the numerous stations dotting the line.
    “Are you nervous?” Acerbitas asked, curiosity whetted. She had the tone of a gossip hound sniffing out a salacious tidbit.
    “I’m not nervous,” Magnus snapped.
    “Hmm, well, you seem awfully edgy for someone who’s not,” Acerbitas replied sweetly. “For one thing, you’re fidgeting.”
    “I am not fidgeting,” Magnus denied, though a glance downward proved him wrong. He had been running restless fingers over the sword’s carved ebony blade, stroking the glossy bony surface and tracing the raised silver runes. He stopped and let his hand drop away.
    “You’re scared,” Acerbitas replied with pointed snark-casm, smug in her rightness. The tables were turned. She went for his throat. “Imagine that. A big fellow like you, scared...”
    “I don’t like tight spaces,” Magnus growled, a low rumbling snarl. The sound swelled and echoed through the narrow passage, increasing the feeling of oppression. His tension grew. Walls closed in. Crushing pressure. No air. He felt dizzy, afraid. His canines emerged and cut into his lower lip, causing blood to flow into his mouth.
    “You’re claustrophobic!” Acerbitas gave a hoot of laughter that flitted merrily through his thoughts.
    Magnus reigned in his worst impulses. He suppressed another vicious snarl, determined not to make another betraying sound. Shoving the sword into a concrete joint and snapping the blade was not an option. At least, not until after he killed the Soul Eater.
    He ignored her and focused his attention entirely upon their quarry. Nothing mattered but the hunt and the kill. Even if the earth opened beneath his feet and swallowed him whole, he would persist. For the sake of the hunt, he would endure whatever was necessary.
    The demon they stalked was close now. Through the sword, Magnus could sense the Soul Eater’s proximity.