Free Daniel Taylor and the Scepter of Power by Monica Davis Page A

lords were circling each other like wild animals, ready to spring at each other’s throats at any moment.
    I read it in her thoughts — the Oracle prophesized to her that she would die soon!
    Die? For a fraction of a second, her father looked shocked.
    Anyway, she’s useless! Metistakles told Obron, but Marla sensed that he was only being greedy; he wanted to possess her alone in order to get his hands on the scepter.
    Unfortunately for him, her father had had the same idea. No, she’s not! We may have lost Silvan, he could have controlled the scepter for us. But the same blood flows in Marla’s veins!
    The Oracle predicted that Silvan would seal the fate of the scepter! Metistakles interjected. So if he’s here, we should snap him up quickly!
    “The Oracle can make mistakes!” Obron cried.
    “It never has!” Again, Metistakles glanced at Marla. “And since she’s going to die anyways, why not by my hand? You still owe me, Obron!”
    “No one will kill my daughter! Not unless I expressly order it! And I owe you nothing!”
    Metistakles shook his head. “I always wanted Kitana, but you took her away from me. So I took everything I could from your daughter!” He laughed and raised his hands. It was clear that he was intending to kill Obron. Marla sensed the hatred bubbling out of him.
    But her father was quicker. His entire body was suddenly covered in energy, and when Metistakles attacked him, his charge rebounded off of Obron back onto him. Searing light enveloped him. Screaming, Metistakles attempted to snuff out the blue flames that were devouring him through his cloak with his bare hands. His skin caught fire. He seemed to melt before their eyes like a wax candle.
    Obron stood motionless, staring at his rival. His face betrayed nothing about his thoughts or whether he was enjoying Metistakles’ suffering.
    “Of the two of us, I was the better demon,” Obron whispered as Metistakles’ body melted away.
    When Marla broke out of her paralysis, she knew that Metistakles had been destroyed. Not only could she move again, she was truly free! Free from Metistakles, whose slave she had been all these months. Marla took a deep breath — and winced. Her wounds throbbed painfully, and many were still bleeding. She felt dizzy and weak.
    She couldn’t manage to sit up, so she turned her head and gazed at the little heap of ashes that was all that remained of her tormentor. Metistakles had robbed her of so much energy that she would never be able to heal her wounds by herself. She would die of them, but she would die a free demon. As her vision went black and she began to rejoice at the thought of unconsciousness, she felt Mike at her side.
    “Marla …” He was sitting next to her, holding her hand.
    She blinked. Mike looked battered and shocked.
    “Tired …” She was unbelievably exhausted and only wanted to sleep. “Mike …” She squeezed his hand weakly. He was here. She wouldn’t die alone. But what would become of him?
    Father, please grant me one last wish before I die: Take Mike back to the human world. Please! With the last of her strength, she tried to send Obron this message. Mike was stroking her intact cheek.
    You’re not going to die. Not yet! she heard Obron’s voice in her head. “Stand aside, human!” The demon pulled Mike away from the bed and crouched down next to Marla.
    “Y-you’re her father?” Mike stammered. “You’re going to save Marla, aren’t you?” Mike knelt down by her head and stroked her hair.
    Her heart wanted to beat faster out of love for him, but it simply couldn’t. Life was ebbing away from her. With difficulty, she turned her head in Mike’s direction. “I love you,” she whispered.
    Mike pressed his lips together. His eyes were glistening. “You’re not going to die, do you hear me?”
    She suddenly felt Obron’s cool hands on her stomach. Marla gasped. What was her father doing? She felt his hands grow warmer, and her wounds began to close up. First