ARC: Cracked Read Online Free Page A

mine, as I’ve never really been much of a team player.
    “Crusader!” hisses one of my attackers.
    The words have no sooner slithered from his lips than the boy lobs a brown, grapefruit-sized ball into the room. As it arches over us, he raises a gun and shoots it. The ball explodes and liquid showers down. I duck behind Hawkish, but some still finds my exposed shoulder and it burns. My captor screams and collapses on the floor writhing – he took the brunt of the flying liquid. I don’t see the other two – they must have taken cover in the stairwell or one of the several hallways feeding off the main room.
    “Do you want to be demon-chow? Come on!” the boy shouts to me.
    Demon -chow? But that’s a thought for another moment. I need no further encouragement and race towards the entryway. Towards my savior.
    It’s an unusual feeling.
    The clip of shoes behind me alerts me that one of the “demons” is chasing me. His claws brush my back and I dive past the boy, out of the lobby and into the entryway, bringing my savior and the demon into a collision course. They crash with a meaty thud. I jump to my feet and back away from where they grapple. The boy shoves the demon back into the lobby and they go rolling. I creep back towards the door to keep an eye on the action.
    The leader kneels by his fallen comrade, who still writhes on the floor. The leader half-rises, but Hawkish clutches at his neck and whispers in his ear. With a shocked look at his friend, then a final snarl at me, he chalks something on the linoleum and, with a crack like thunder, the two of them disappear.
    Poof . Just like that.
    A crashing noise drags my attention to where the newcomer and Puffy face off. A rust-colored couch is tipped on its back and the combatants roll around on the remains of what was once a coffee table. The boy scrambles free of Puffy and jumps to his feet. He pulls a wicked-looking knife, long and curved, from his belt. I creep back into the lobby, but keep my distance while I debate my options. I pull the door to the entryway closed. No matter what I decide, I don’t want any additional audience members.
    Desire for revenge pulses in my veins. I want to punish the demon. Crush! Kill! And above all – cackle! They claim revenge is a dish best served cold, but I’ve found it to be equally delicious hot – not unlike fried chicken. Two-on-one, the boy and I could probably take him. If nothing else, the boy can serve as a distraction as the demon tears him to shreds.
    But a strong dose of self-preservation holds me back. I’ve already learnt the hard way that the demons are stronger than me – or at least a lot more accustomed to fighting people who can fight back.
    So I stand. Indecisive.
    The demon looks similarly indecisive, his eyes shooting between the two of us, then back to where his friends disappeared. The boy steps in his way, obviously blocking him off.
    “You’re not thinking of running, are you?” the boy taunts, blue eyes narrow as he passes the blade back and forth between his hands. “I’m not even a full Crusader, just a kid. You’re not afraid of a kid, are you?”
    The snarling leap seems to indicate “no”. In a move too fast to be merely human, the boy jumps to the side as the demon streaks by. With a smooth motion, the boy rolls back to his feet and dives at the demon’s back, slashing hard across its spine. The demon shrieks to shatter glass, his back arching as if someone had pulled his bowstring. The boy pins the demon face down as it flails and puts his hands on its bare neck. Inky black smoke billows out of the demon where the boy makes contact with its skin. The smoke then disappears into the boy’s fingertips, like he’s some demon-smoke-sucking sponge. Once all the smoke is absorbed, the boy releases the now-limp demon and stands. He’s a little wobbly and he puts a bracing hand on the wall. Then he tips back his head and exhales a long stream of light grey fog that I instantly