Soloman waited, counting the seconds and mentally visualizing Cain’s distance of travel. Then, making no sound at all, he carefully leaned his head, risking a narrow glance at the hallway.
Standing less than twenty feet away, Cain’s back was to Soloman, and he stood utterly still, the dark head bent. But, even turned away, Cain’s concentration was evident, as if he were trying to discern Soloman’s position by sheer force of will. And at the sight Soloman again felt the rage. He hesitated a single moment before he decided.
Stepped into the hall.
“I’m right here, Cain.”
Cain spun with a roar to—
Soloman fired.
The M3 hit hard and drew a savage howl, and Soloman dove away rolling, coming up with perfect balance to vengefully jack another round into the chamber. He moved instantly into a tunnel—it didn’t matter which—and spun fast to find a tactical line of retreat, quick-sighting another corridor devoid of light.
No!
Darkness gives him an advantage!
Keep him in the light!
Soloman saw another corridor lit with scattered torches and moved into it as he heard the rush of approaching footsteps, knowing instantly what he had to do. He dropped a grenade in the intersection and ran full-out, gaining twenty steps and turning a corner before it detonated in a blinding white blast that sent the section behind him fully ablaze.
Brutally stunned by the concussion, Soloman turned back and leveled, searching frantically. But the corridor was empty, and he knew Cain had heard the grenade hit the stone, had maneuvered to avoid the blast.
Good; now I know you’re hurting ...
But he was lost almost as soon as he turned, coming to an intersection where any tunnel of this labyrinth could have led anywhere else. A moment of panic descended, and Soloman ran breathlessly, frantically through the tunnels until he realized there was no way to win this game, not here.
He’s got me trapped down here ...
Panic, panic ...
Seconds ... seconds ...
Control it!
Seconds!
Control it!
Control it!
Get it together!
Only the most extreme effort of will allowed Soloman to slow his pace and force himself to think clearly. He knew he had no advantages in this dark, knew he had to ... had to ...
Change the game!
By reflex he’d already measured the thinness of the walls and mentally counted the grenades strapped to his belt. It was a decision made instantly, and with a fierceness he hadn’t known in seven years he removed an incendiary and placed it in a corner, setting it to destroy the section. Then he moved away, running fast to clear the blast before—
Detonation!
Soloman was sent sprawling on his face.
Recovering ...
Rolling ...
Finding balance.
Soloman rose stunned, staggering between walls, lost in the roaring mushrooming blast that met the ceiling, but he still didn’t know where he was so he did it again and again, pulling pins and strategically setting grenades to decimate walls, to bring them down, destroying the labyrinth.
No more chaos.
Surviving, surviving ...
Surviving!
Burning and ravaged, Soloman threw another grenade and spun, finding a single avenue of escape and barely turning a corner before the devastating explosion took down all the walls behind him. The concussion knocked him down hard, and then he was up again, stumbling.
Reoriented from sheer determination he recovered and suicidally placed one grenade after another, destroying Cain’s advantage of chaos, decimating what was once a maze to leave nothing but a vast white burning wasteland of shattered bone and stone.
Stunned, the surreal ordeal flooding over him in deafening pain and rage and scorched skin, Soloman rose to his feet in smoldering rubble, searching. He knew that Cain had probably survived and wearily leveled the shotgun as he gained a knee. He scanned a long moment before—
Cain emerged from the wreckage, angrily throwing off a wall of broken stone. Instantly the monstrosity sighted him, glaring balefully. But beyond the shattered walls Soloman saw the exit from the labyrinth, far on the other side of the beast.
Frowning, Cain stared coldly over the defeated maze. “Deusne eritfortitudo vestra coram inimico?” he raged. “Nein!”
Whirling, Soloman saw an exiting corridor and took it. There was no time to find out where it led, but he saw a distant flight of stairs as the darkness behind him thundered with a voice of cosmic rage, a roaring black howl of frustration and pain.
“Soloman! I’ll kill you for this!”
***
Maggie fled the Castle as quickly as she could.
She had covered less than fifty feet when the gateway exploded, and she whirled at the blast to see enveloping flame, a holocaust in the place where Mary Francis had stood.
She cried out, knew what had happened.
Staring a long moment, shocked, she realized that the old nun had sacrificed herself to save them both, using something she’d taken from Soloman in order to kill the two warlocks.
Blood flowed heavily from Maggie’s arm as she bowed her head and moaned in pain. Then she clutched Amy tighter in her arms. She turned slowly beneath the smoke-filled sky, amazed that she could even move. As she began to cross the cold earth, she saw it rise before her: a dark, forbidding silhouette in even deeper darkness. It stood in her path and she knew.
At least one more warlock remained.
Silent, he came for her.
Seeing it at the same time, Amy screamed.
“Oh, God,” Maggie whispered, whirling to glare at the castle, smoldering from the explosion that had killed Mary Francis and the two attacking warlocks. Deciding instantly, knowing there was nothing else she could do, she ran back, holding Amy tight in her arms.
“God help us, Amy,” she whispered desperately, feeling a last faint measure of strength fading with each step. “God help us ...”
***
Crouching at the top of the stone stairwell, a long slate-gray tunnel lit by flickering white torches, Soloman spoke …
“Come on, Cain. Let’s finish it. It’s just you and me.”
Cain answered from darkness.
“Perhaps I will kill you another day, Soloman.” There was a trace of exhaustion in the voice. “Perhaps I will wait years before I taste your blood.” A laugh. “It will be sweeter with time.”
Soloman was unaffected.
“Come after me or I’m coming after you,” he said.
Silence.
Soloman waited a long time.
“You’ve always been a coward,” he added.
Cain released a heavy breath.
Yeah ... You’re wounded.
A pause.
“You know nothing ... of me.”
Soloman smiled. “Yeah? Well, I know you’re afraid.”
“Of you?” Cain laughed, still hidden from view. “I will never fear a mortal. You are finite. You know nothing of what I once—”
“I know you’re afraid to come up these stairs,” Soloman said. “I know you’ve realized you’re not unkillable. But don’t bother answering. You’re too much of a coward to answer ... You’ve always been a coward.”
A shadow neared the lower level.
“You dare to mock me?” Cain growled. He stood narrowly outside range. “You dare to taunt me when even Michael would not? When we disputed face-to-face over the body of Moses even Michael dared only to say, ‘The Lord rebukes you!’” An approach. “You are a fool, Soloman! You have no knowledge of what I was! And yet you have the pride to scorn celestial might? Even the Almighty would curse you for this!”
Calculating coldly, Soloman carefully aimed the shotgun into t
he stairway. He didn’t move. “All I know is that you’re too scared to come up these stairs, Cain. It’s like I said: You’re a coward. You were scared of David, and you’re scared of me.”
Stillness, and the moment held.
Soloman’s finger tightened on the trigger as hot sweat dripped from his lips and chin, and he tasted the saltiness, blinking it from his eyes. He focused on the darkness, waiting.
And it came.
In a red rush Cain hit the steps, and Soloman was shocked despite himself as the beast ascended. Cain’s massive cloaked body was horrific in strength with clawed hands stretched to kill beneath a blazing red glare.
So fast did he move that he was almost on top of Soloman before he could track and fire. But the blast stalled the giant in midair for a split-second, hurling him against a wall. Then Soloman quick-drew the Grizzly—the only thing that could shred the internal armor—and fired a full clip, hitting with half as Cain twisted and roared at each impact.
The slide locked.
Soloman hurled the shotgun aside, tearing out the spent magazine of the Grizzly and slamming in another as Cain recovered with terrifying speed and came forward, his face ablaze with a wrath that had no earthly measure.
Moving furiously Soloman dropped the slide to chamber another round as the monstrosity erupted fully from the stairs to hit him hard in the chest and send him back into the room.
Soloman fell on his back and rolled over, using the momentum to hit Cain again and again. Cain scattered blood with a roar as he viciously struck the pistol from Soloman’s hand and Soloman head-butted, stunned by the brutal impact. He expected Cain to recover far faster, and the giant did, grasping him by the shirt to twist violently, hurling him over rotten timber.
Even before Soloman landed he tactically planned his reaction, and when he rolled to the floor he came up hard, a grenade tight in his hand. He pulled the ring before Cain could close the gap, tossing it on the far side of the beam, immediately throwing himself prone.
The blast went over him like a wave of fire, and Soloman didn’t even take time to find out if he’d been hit. He was instantly on his feet, running for the stairway and snatching up the shotgun as he heard the thunderous approach. He spun, falling to his back to fire the massive .10-gauge round that carried Cain over his head, thrown by the brutal force of the blast.
Cain hit the wall with a roar and fell to the floor as Soloman leaped for the tunnel, knowing that gravity alone wouldn’t allow Cain to pursue any faster than he could fall.
He descended for almost the full flight, and then Force Recon training took over as he hit and rolled to gain his feet, alive with fighting reflex. He didn’t even look to see if he was being pursued because he was out of options.
Running full-out through the corridors, hearing with every step the horrifying and horrific approach, Soloman found a path through the shattered maze and angled instantly toward the dungeon.
Speed, speed, speed was his only hope, and Soloman ran with all his strength, hurling himself low and close over shattered stone with the shotgun tight as he saw a distant circle of torches approaching.
And a fanged roar overcame him.
***
Maggie spun frantically in the gate, seeing the warlock.
Leaping, the black shape struck, the blade flickering white through starlight as Maggie twisted away. But Amy screamed at the impact, and Maggie knew her daughter had been hit.
Together they fell to the smoldering stones, the remains of burned bones and devastated flesh, and Maggie struggled to fight, to concentrate. She roughly pushed Amy away as she staggered to her feet, glaring at the cryptic form.
“Come on!” she screamed, backing.
The warlock advanced, laughing.
Maggie backed up, not even looking at Amy until the warlock had passed her, and then she saw that her child had staggered to her feet and was bleeding blackly from her arm in the moonlight. Step by step Maggie retreated into the inner ward and searched for a weapon, any weapon at all that would give her a faint fighting chance against this ... this ...
The long blade rose, tight in a hand.
Bending instantly, Maggie snatched up a piece of rotten timber and swung with vicious strength, the shaft shattering on a cloaked arm.
There was a pause as the warlock grinned from within the hood. Then he threw out a hard hand to strike her in the chest, smashing her to the ground.
Horror made her recover fast, and Maggie twisted, staring up. Whatever she held truest was spoken in the moment, all hope gone as the terrifying shape stood over her. Her words were a promise.
“Soloman will kill you for this,” she whispered.
A scornful laugh. “Soloman is already dead,” he said.
Maggie spat.
He raised the blade and bent to—
A herculean arm grabbed him from behind, seizing the moment and movement with gigantic strength. Instantly the warlock attempted to whirl and Maggie saw the reflection of a white collar.
“Marcelle!”
In a staggering, grotesque stranglehold of arms and legs, they stumbled across the ward, the warlock striking wildly at the massive force that held him, Marcelle roaring from his wounds. They moved into the middle of the starlit square, strength against strength, and Maggie heard a sharp whine burst suddenly from the warlock’s throat as he fell to his knees.
Then with a gigantic effort Marcelle bent over him. And she knew the fight wasn’t over as the priest hunched, shoulders spreading broadly in a tremendous effort of will and strength, and she heard a devastating crack echo across the yard.
Silence.
Exhausted stillness.
Marcelle released the body, and it fell to the ground.
“Marcelle!” she cried out, rising to her feet. She rushed forward to find him fallen to his knees over the body. He gasped, raising his head to the sky, breathless from the conflict. He leaned his head far back, gazing into the stars, his face submerged in pain.
“I came up,” he whispered. “Heard an explosion ... in the gate. Now we must find Soloman.”
“Oh, Marcelle ...”
He shook his head, glancing at Amy. “It is finished,” he said. “Whatever price paid tonight is by ... the will of God. Someone must ... stop this beast. And we are all ... that remain.”
Maggie helped him to his feet.
“Come,” he said. “We must find Soloman.”
***
Soloman dropped a grenade when he was twenty feet from the dungeon, and then he threw another, and another, and another. He rounded the corner as the first exploded in a succession of blasts that bathed the tunnel, sending a river of flame from the portal.
The roar was deafening, unendurable, and Soloman heard himself screaming in the holocaust as the terrific explosions hurled white wave after white wave to superheat the air. But he didn’t have time for thought or pain; he had to move. At the last explosion he leaped toward the daypack knowing Cain would be coming fast through the flames to—
Cain catapulted from the tunnel like a thunderbolt.
As they collided Soloman twisted to take it savagely to the ground, the battle entering the last, savage domain. Frantic thought was lost in the whirlwind of violence that carried them across the cavern floor, cursing and snarling as each struck with desperate strength, taking it to the death.
And Soloman knew nothing more, had forgotten everything in the vicious, blinding exchange of brutal blows that forged them together in hate and revolving wounds through darkness, red rage, blood, and pain.
As Cain drew back to strike, Soloman hit him hard in the chest, bringing a grunt: He’s weakening!
In an exultant moment, Soloman felt the giant’s strength diminishing, and it gave him wild hope. Soloman hit again and again, hurling a straight right that struck the monstrous face, and he leaped to press the a
ttack, sensing Cain’s endurance fading degree by degree as well.
Blow after blow fell like rain, moves perfected from years of merciless training in the desert, and Soloman knew Cain was stunned by the onslaught; the rounds and grenades had taken something from him, had reduced that unearthly strength.
Enraged at the pain Cain roared as he violently backhanded Soloman across the face, spinning him away. But as Soloman took the stunning impact his hand closed on the tanto at his waist, snapping the blade clear.
He returned the blow with vengeance.
With the hilt tight in his fist Soloman gave himself to it, and the sweeping black blade struck true, slashing Cain’s throat through and through to send a scarlet trail into smoking black air.
Cain’s reaction was incredible.
Staggering back, eyes wide in shock, the taloned hands clutched his throat as if to halt the spiraling flood of blood. Then he raised his hands before his face, staring at the scarlet stain as if he’d lost an irredeemable treasure. And the unearthly eyes narrowed in ageless wrath, an indescribable curse bellowing through his fangs.
He leaped forward with a roar to grab Soloman and viciously flung him through the smoke and dust and destruction. Soloman struck hard against a wall, then fell face-down on the stone.
Soloman didn’t even feel the pain, so consumed was he with the conflict, and he rolled with effort to his feet. He glared bloody defiance in the face of the inhuman strength, the matchless power. Staring in hate, moving on instinct alone, he saw that Cain was mortally wounded, was struggling violently to draw breath through a severed throat that failed to heal. With a savage grimace Soloman mercilessly jacked another round in the shotgun, staggering away.
A last move to make ...
Bring this place down!
He reached the daypack in three strides, instantly raising the barrel to the fuse, and pulled the trigger. The blast ignited it, and it burned toward the dynamite and napalm with vicious speed. Then Soloman slammed another round and turned, leveling the shotgun in the face of Cain’s wrath.
Cain glared spitefully at the daypack. Understood.
Six seconds.
“You’re dead,” Soloman said.
Cain took a faltering step, shook his head in frustration.
Thrilled to Death Page 98
