demon slayer 05.5 - the tenth dark lord a leaping Read Online Free

wings beat in a steady rhythm, sending a gust of air against my cheeks on each downward stroke. I held on for my life and left my stomach somewhere over the gorge as he soared up to the high hill. A year and a half with this man and I still couldn’t get used to the flying part.
    We landed in a scraggly tuft of grass, half blocked by a snowdrift. I slid down to the ground, my legs weak as a baby deer’s. Griffin flight always did that to me. I braced my hands on my knees, glad to be upright.
    Dimitri lowered his head and let out a low rumble, then looked back at the trapped witches on the lift. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before deciding.
    “I know,” I told him. He knew what he had to do, and so did I. “Stay safe.”
    He gave me a long, hard look as if daring me to do the same, then flew back to save them. He understood I’d keep moving, just like I understood that he couldn’t leave our friends behind.
    “Lizzie.” Pirate jumped against my leg, nearly knocking me over. “Hey, Lizzie. Why are you just standing there?”
    I pulled Dimitri’s pants out and shrugged off his jacket, leaving both on the brush, where he could hopefully find them, and forced myself to get moving. “Where’s Frieda and Grandma?”
    “Already gone,” he said, leading me to tracks in the snow. “Frieda couldn’t wait, which I totally get, because you know how hard it is to wait.”
    He led me into the trees, toward a tall outcropping of rock. It was lit from the inside, and it smelled of sulfur. More often than not, that caustic odor came with the kind of evil that made my skin crawl.
    “This isn’t just about making sure Frieda’s son doesn’t hurt himself,” I said under my breath.
    “Oh no,” Pirate said, drawing closer to me. “I heard your grandma use the word sacrifice .”

CHAPTER THREE
    Pirate led me to a hill above an outcropping of weathered gray rocks. The whole place was very Stonehenge, except the rocks were shorter and wider, with narrow gaps in between. Grandma motioned me to get my ass over there, as if Pirate and I had been taking a moonlit stroll. She was pale, serious. Her wind-burned cheeks were the only spot of color she had.
    I got down low between her and Frieda. “What’s up?” I mouthed.
    She pointed down to the center, where at least fifty bikers—all men—were gathered around a large cauldron over a fire. No telling what was in it, but these guys were rapt. Each and every one of them looked like they could eat nails for breakfast, from the tall guys with braided beards to the linebacker types who faced out into the night.
    Heavens to Betsy. One shift and the closest guard would be looking straight at us.
    “How well does this cloaking stuff work?” I whispered to Grandma.
    She planted a hand on my shoulder in order to see past me. “It’s a Red Skull specialty. We should be okay.”
    Should be.
    “What did Pirate mean by sacrifice?” I whispered.
    “They’re planning on killing one of their own,” she said tightly.
    “Jesus,” I muttered, glancing over at Frieda.
    She stared down with glassy eyes, her fingers gripping a large rock on the ground like it was the only thing keeping her there. I scanned the gathering of warlocks and could only guess which one was her son. Frieda seemed to be focusing on a man near the back. He was younger than the rest, with straw-blond scraggly hair and almost an innocence about him. Yes, he wore a hard look on his face, but it seemed almost forced. Born of fear more than anything.
    I knew how to stop a demon, but I’d never faced an outright murder. I was out of my element on this one, and we were outnumbered and trespassing on their home turf.
    They bowed their heads as a bald guy at the front lifted his hands over the cauldron. He was seventy if he was a day. His face was weathered, his eyes hooded. “Gather ye, my Dark Lord brethren, past and future, dead and alive. We are pledged to the magic that has driven us for more than thirteen