by Ryland Thorn
“The counter.”
The counter is a medium-sized desk almost completely covered with incense and candles and miniature books that Jack guesses contain inspirational quotes. It is dominated by an old-fashioned register, and it is close to the fire.
Jack heaves his weary body over to it, but at first glance, he cannot see anything resembling garlic salts.
“Where?” he demands again.
There is more strength in Madame Brigette’s voice when she replies. Or perhaps it is no more than panic. Either way, she is quick to give him an answer. “It is in a pouch next to the register.”
Now Jack sees it. A delicate pouch no larger than his clenched fist. It even has a small cardboard sign with a handwritten note on it. ‘Garlic salts.’
It is disappointingly small. Nevertheless, he scoops it up and strides, as well as he can, back to the demon spawn.
Jack knows that the pouch of garlic salts will not enough, but it is all he has. Nor does he have time to seek another option. There is so much smoke in the Emporium that it is difficult to see, and Jack has to cover his mouth to keep from choking. Madame Brigette is struggling to breathe. It would be even worse except that the tar man hadn’t closed the broken door properly behind him, and some of the smoke is escaping into the night.
Pausing at the edge of the demon spawn on the floor, Jack takes a small handful of the salts and scatters it about. He doesn’t wait for the expected sizzling and squealing, but instead strides out as if he has nothing to fear.
He is expecting the demon spawn to grip his legs and sneakers, but the garlic salts are doing their job. He is able to wade through the mass until he stands beneath Madame Brigette.
He has already used about half of the salts. He takes the rest and flings it at the demon spawn holding Madame Brigette to the roof, doing all that he can to make sure that he covers as much of her as possible.
Then he waits.
Moments later, the demon spawn starts to squeal and bubble and writhe. Then, with a strangled cry of terror, Madame Brigette falls into Jack’s waiting arms.
Jack knows that there is nothing more he can do. The demon spawn is big and strong enough to survive the garlic salts. Already, the edges of it are pulling away, as if to isolate the part of itself that is stricken. It is only a matter of time before the fire touches it, and it starts to replicate.
Jack cannot help but feel a profound disappointment. He does not like leaving a job half done, but he has no choice. He has nothing with which to fight this.
But that doesn’t mean he is helpless. He can carry Madame Brigette to safety, and he can aid Lennox against the tar man. After that, he can contact the Brotherhood for help.
Perhaps they can send a tanker filled with holy water. He hopes so. If they cannot, Jack is uncertain what he will have to do.
“Come on,” he says to Madame Brigette. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Before he has taken so much of a step toward the burning door, he feels another wave of demon-magic inspired nausea and the whole front of the store explodes inwards.
Chapter Twenty: Tentacles
The force of the blast sends much of the shelving and some of the display stands crashing to the floor. Jack and Madame Brigette tumble toward the back of the shop. They have no control. They are like leaves caught in a sudden gust of wind, and it is all they can do to stop just short of the black ooze at the back.
The lights flicker. For a moment it seems they will fail. But then they return, burning as steadily as before.
For the second time in a matter of minutes, Jack is left dizzy and winded. Lying on the floor with Madame Brigette beside him, he has to take a few seconds to recover.
When he regains his focus, he sees that there is a gaping hole where the front of the store used to be. The blast has blown most of the flames out, and the smoke is already clearing.
But Jack and Brigette are not the only two people on the floor. The tar man is there as well, closer to the door. He is already rising, his grin firmly in place. He is carved out of tungsten carbide. Durable beyond belief. The force of the blast would have been too much for Jack to withstand if it had caught him directly. Yet the tar man, aside from a few rips in his jacket, seems largely unscathed.
Facing him, framed by the gaping hole her magic created, is Lennox Valdis.
Jack’s first response is a relief so profound it feels like bliss. Lennox is still alive. She has been able to hold her own against the tar man when Jack could not do so. Then that relief turns into worry, because the Lennox standing where the doorway used to be is not the Lennox he knows.
This Lennox is a creature of power. Despite the suppressant she has taken, she is a raging demon. Clothed in Hellfire magic, she is a sight to behold. Her hair is standing on end as if charged with static, a white halo that contradicts nearly everything else about her. The demon horns on her forehead are no longer barely noticeable stubs. They are curved, as long as a finger, and look sharp. Her complexion, normally the color of coffee, is as red as a blush, and her eyes are on fire.
She is madness and fury and hate all rolled into one. Normally a novice with demon magic, now she shapes Hellfire in her hands as if born to it, as if the words of the spells she uses are burned into her soul.
As Jack watches in increasing horror, Lennox stalks into what is left of Madame Brigette’s Arcane Emporium. Her focus is on the tar man, and her intention is clear.
She wants to obliterate him. To rip him apart with her magic. To send the demon blood in his veins straight back to Hell.
This intention is plain even to the tar man himself. Yet he is laughing like a madman, like a clown in a horror ride at a carnival. He is laughing as if he has witnessed the world’s greatest joke.
And Jack thinks that he understands why.
The tar man is nimble and durable beyond belief, and he is also cunningly clever. But his greatest strength by far is his ability to produce and control his demon spawn. It is this ability that converts the tar man from a nuisance to a terrifying force that can threaten all of New Sanctum.
Jack doesn’t know why the tar man hasn’t used this strength against Lennox already. Perhaps his penchant for offering taunts instead of attacking directly has backfired. Or perhaps she has fought hard enough to keep him off balance.
Either way, it doesn’t matter any more. Through chance or design, he no longer needs to conjure his demon spawn to mount an attack.
In here, in what remains of Madame Brigette’s store, there is already demon spawn enough.
As Lennox gathers her power, the tar man steps backwards, past Jack and Madame Brigette, and into the demon spawn mass.
The fire the tar man had set is no more than a few smoldering embers, but Lennox’s Hellfire magic will do the same job. And Jack fears that Lennox has forgotten what happens when spawn meets fire. She looks for all the world as if she is going to unleash another blast. She is even starting to pronounce the words that turn Jack’s stomach.
But Jack has recovered enough to act.
“No!” he shouts as loudly as he can. At the same time, he uses all of his strength to heave himself to his feet and lurches over to stand between Lennox and the tar man.
To the tune of the tar man laughing hysterically at this outcome, Jack tries to make Lennox see reason. “You cannot! If your fire hits the spawn, it will proliferate!”
At first, it seems that his words make no impact. The rage and madness in Lennox expression doesn’t change. Her focus just swaps from the tar man to Jack himself. He is not sure that she even recognizes who he is.
But she does. “Get out of the way!” Lennox snarls.
Jack clenches his fists. “Lennox!” he says. “Listen to me!”
Lennox’s expression takes on an overtone of determination. She is muttering under her breath, and the Hellfire in her hands swells and pulsates with power.
Jack fears she will cast it despite his warning. Despite the fact that he is between her and her targe
t. Nevertheless, he stands his ground. With the growing sensation of nausea in his gut, he grits his teeth, braces for impact, and wills her to stop.
It is a battle of wills in which Jack has everything to lose. The blast that Lennox is shaping will be powerful. Perhaps the tar man could withstand it, but Jack is unsure if he has the same level of durability. And yet, if he does not, then the tar man will win. The demon spawn will multiply beyond all immediate control. The Brotherhood will be battling against them for days if not weeks, if they can prevail at all.
Jack sees no other choice. He is resolute.
And, after long seconds tick by, he sees Lennox falter. He hears her trip over the words she is saying, then stop altogether. A shadow of frustration briefly covers her face, to be replaced by a hint of confusion.
All at once, she appears far less demonic. Her eyes return to their normal shade, and she blinks as if she is seeing him for the first time.
She seems human again. No longer ruled by the demon inside her. The suppressant is doing its job.
“Jack?” she says, her voice strangely subdued. She lets her ball of Hellfire dissipate. Then part of her determination and anger returns. “How do we kill him?” she demands. “And the demon spawn. How do we defeat it?”
Jack has no immediate answer, but he doesn’t need one. Madame Brigette is sitting up on the floor and rubbing her wrists. Given the ordeal she has just endured, she looks surprisingly well.
“The glyphs,” she says, her voice a harsh croak. “They will work against the demon spawn.” Despite the weakness of her voice, a legacy of having to breathe so much smoke, there is a measure of fire and hate in it that demands respect. She is justifiably angry at what the tar man has wrought against both herself and her shop. One look at her face is enough to tell Jack that she is more than anxious for a chance at revenge. “They will work against anything with demon blood in their veins. I can activate them.”
It is all Jack needs to hear. “Do it,” he says. The danger to himself means nothing, but he will do all he can to ensure that Lennox is safe. “Lex, go with her!” he cries.
Madame Brigette heaves herself to her feet, but the tar man has other plans. All through Madame Brigette and Jack’s capture, the demon spawn had been largely inert. It had moved enough to keep both of them in place and had drained much of their strength. But the demon spawn Jack and Lennox faced in Mario’s Pizzeria and Bar had been much more mobile.
Jack had suspected that this was by the tar man’s design, and now the tar man is giving him proof. He is kneeling in amongst the roiling black mass with his hands buried within it. And the demon spawn is starting to heave and flow with far greater animation.
As Madame Brigette starts to make her painful way to the door, an extra large pseudopod extends from the loathsome, gelatinous mass toward her.
Jack doesn’t even need to think. He draws both of his blades and pivots, placing himself between the pseudopod and Madame Brigette. He understands that Madame Brigette is the key to defeating the tar man and his spawn. He will protect her with everything that he has. If that includes sacrificing his very life, then so be it.
With a growl of determination combined with rage, he crosses his blades and presses them into the pseudopod flesh. The demon spawn starts to whine and blister around his blades, and it gives off the same putrescent vapor as before. But this demon spawn is far bigger than those Jack and Lennox had defeated in the alley. This demon spawn cannot be defeated by Jack’s blades alone.
Although the first pseudopod is already withering into nothing, others are growing out of the main demon spawn body and heading Jack’s way.
Jack does what he can. Cursing with rage, he presses the flats of his blades against every vile extrusion that he can reach. But he doesn’t need the tar man’s vindictive laughter to tell him that it is hopeless. Within moments, a tendril slips past his guard and wraps itself around his shin, burning him like a branding iron and making him cry out in pain.
It spurs him to redouble his efforts. He doesn’t back away or even think to give up. He has accepted his fate. He just lays about him with his knives as efficiently as he can, pressing them into one tendril after another.
He intends to keep fighting for as long as he can, to give Lennox and Madame Brigette the time they need to activate the glyphs. What happens after that is not his concern.
As he fights, he feels his rage and hatred for all things demonic start to take over. It gives him new power and strength, but he knows that this time it will not be enough. This time, he will be overwhelmed. Whether he will wake up sometime afterwards or not, he doesn’t know.
All he knows is that he has to keep fighting. He has to keep applying his blades as effectively as he can regardless of what the outcome will be.
Despite his efforts, it isn’t long before a second pseudopod gets through his guard, and then a third, and a fourth. They are wrapping themselves around anything they can find, and this includes both of Jack’s wrists. He grits his teeth against the agony of the burning and knows that he cannot last much longer. Yet he still struggles, still twists and turns, laying his blades where he can.
And then he is no longer alone. Lennox is beside him, fighting just as furiously as he is.
“No!” he cries out, the word wrenched from his soul without his volition. He is beyond distraught, beyond dismayed that she is there. He thought she had left with Madame Brigette, to help activate the glyphs. “You have to go! You have to get away!” he says. He has never been so afraid before in his life. It feels as if she has reached into his chest and crushed his heart in her fist. He can bear any outcome of this battle if only he knows she is safe. But she is not safe. She is there by his side, her knives flashing next to his.
Amazingly, she takes the time to give him a grin. It is not quite her usual teasing expression, but contains a touch of glee and madness. Her demon is not completely back under control.
“I said you have to come back to me,” she says. “And I meant it!”
Jack is shocked. He is horrified. His relationship with Lennox has been ambiguous for so long, but there is one thing he is sure of. He does not want her harmed. He will do anything to prevent it.
“You should not be here!” he says.
He does not pause in his efforts to combat the demon spawn. But he is awash with emotion. He had been prepared to spend his life to give Lennox and Brigette the chance to do what they could. He is filled with anguish and grief on top of his usual rage and hate. In desperation, he casts about for inspiration.
But there is none to be had.
The tar man still has his arms buried up to his elbows in the demon spawn mire. He is still laughing as if he is truly insane as he wills the demon spawn to even greater activity. The spawn itself has become a tentacled monster, a kraken made of stinking black madness. There are tendrils probing for weakness all around Jack and Lennox. It is all they can do to keep those tendrils back, to burn off any end that comes close and cauterize it with their blades.
So far, they have kept it contained. Jack and Lennox have kept the tar man’s attention focused on them. Which is exactly as Jack intended.
But now things have change. Jack does not know how long Madame Brigette needs to activate the glyphs, and does not know what to expect when she does.
All he knows is that instead of buying time, now he is looking for a way to get Lennox to safety.
He gives voice to a howl of anguish mixed with hate, ignoring the burning of his flesh and muscles and willing his fatigue to fade. He attacks as fast and as often as he can, hoping to create an opening. But if anything, the wall of demon spawn tentacles becomes even thicker. The number that are getting through his guard and latching onto him is increasing. Soon, he and Lennox will be so mired in the vile flesh of the spawn that they will not be able to move.
It is enough to drive a man mad. To push him over the edge into a sea of despair. Nor is he the only one to give in to his most basic instincts. Lennox is cros
sing that line as well, and unleashing her demon again. She is a howling whirlwind of fury and hate, as graceful as any dancer and as lethal as the blades that she wields.
On another day, Jack would have stood back to admire her. But today, all he can do is keep fighting by her side, hoping for a miracle.
And then the miracle happens.
He feels it first. Nausea, a sense of revulsion like when Lennox casts a spell. And yet, this is different. More powerful.
Then there is a blinding light. An instant later, he hears Lennox cry out in fear mixed with madness as she flings herself at him. He feels an instant of warmth and comfort, and then he is hit by a detonation like Lennox’s Hellfire blast but much, much stronger.
The world turns into darkness and he knows nothing more.
Chapter Twenty One: Glyphs
Jack doesn’t know for how long he is unconscious. All he knows is that when he wakes, it is into a world of pain. Everything hurts. His head is throbbing as if he has been hit repeatedly with hammers. Every muscle in his body feels heavy and leaden. Even his eyeballs hurt.
He groans out loud and is surprised when someone responds.
“Oh, so you’re alive, are you?”
It is Madame Brigette, although it is so dark that Jack cannot see her clearly. She is sitting on what looks like a broken-off chunk of stone, her red and yellow dress looking gray in the gloom. For a moment, Jack finds himself wondering at the broken-off chunk of stone, but then he becomes aware of more of his surroundings.
The Arcane Emporium is a total ruin. The building has collapsed into a pile of rubble. It is like it has been hit by an earthquake, or maybe a bomb, and the only light is from a nearby streetlamp.
Jack shivers in the cold of the night. “What happened?” he asks, but then has a more urgent thought that makes him sit up despite his body’s protests. “Lex!” he says.
“Relax,” Madame Brigette replies. “She’s alive. Unconscious, but I could see nothing wrong with her. Over there.” She waves a casual hand at a small chunk of the wall that is still partially whole.
