by K M Martinez
At supper, the group came together around a communal fire to eat hot dogs and drink beer, with the encouragement of Sapienti Reddy and Sapienti Bartley—and much to the frustration of most of the Journeymen referees. Mel figured the two Sapientis had caught on to what was happening and intended to put an end to it.
As Jack Teller regaled them with stories from his home, Mel sipped her beer, relaxed, and for the first time since she stepped into the helicopter that morning, felt almost content. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Tabitha Bartley was going around handing out beer, and she smiled when she handed Mel a fresh bottle before Mel had even finished with her first. It was cold though, colder than the lukewarm one she was nursing, so she twisted the cap off and took a swig. The liquid burned when it touched her mouth. She promptly spit it out.
“What is this?”
Tabitha Bartley stopped and gave Mel a measured look. “Beer,” she said after a moment, and quickly walked toward Kane and Claus Connelly, who were carrying a cooler.
Liar, Mel thought. She wiped her mouth, trying to soothe her burning lips. When she realized that Tabitha had given Charlotte a beer too, she grabbed it and emptied both bottles onto the ground.
“Hey!” Charlotte said.
Mel ignored her. She watched the liquid pool in a hole in the ground, glistening like oil with multiple colors.
“What the hell?” Charlotte said, eyeing the black liquid. “What is that?”
But Mel was already on her feet and walking purposely toward the Connellys. They were handing beers to Cori O’Shea and Jack Teller, but Mel intercepted them and grabbed the bottles out of their hands.
“What are you giving us?” Mel demanded, keeping a tight rein on her temper.
“What are you talking about?” Kane said. “It’s just beer.”
“Beer? Just beer? Then why does it burn when it touches the skin? Why is it—”
Kane cut her off. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. This is just beer, regular beer.”
Mel felt the stirring in her gut again. Liar.
“Mel,” said Sapienti Reddy, rising from his seat. “I’ve been drinking, and I didn’t feel any burning. I think you should calm down. Come sit with me.”
“That’s right, bitch, sit the fuck down,” said Kane.
With a flick of her wrists, Mel had uncapped both bottles. She emptied them emphatically over Kane Connelly’s head. Even in the faint light from the fire, it was easy to see the ink-black liquid veining on Kane Connelly’s face, running down his neck and onto his shirt. It was oily, and gave off an unnatural sheen.
Mel felt the tension rise behind her. All eyes were on the Connellys and the other referees. The competitors and Seconds rose from their seats, and Sapientis Bartley and Reddy had severe looks on their faces.
“That’s right, bitch,” Mel said viciously, arms wide, still holding a beer bottle in each hand.
“Kane, what is the meaning of this?” Sapienti Reddy boomed.
As Mel looked toward him, she felt more than saw the figure moving in his direction.
“No!” she shouted.
But it was too late. Anton stepped behind Sapienti Reddy and buried a long, curved blade deep into the Sapienti’s back.
Mel’s scream was guttural; her legs ate up the ground. Chaos erupted around her as she charged toward Anton.
Anton bent down to grab something from Sapienti Reddy’s pocket, and Mel was prepared to crack a bottle over his head—but Tabitha Bartley intercepted her, her pleasant face now one of twisted hate. Tabitha swung a large knife that would have cut Mel’s chest open had she been a split second faster. As it was, Mel dodged the strike and smashed the beer bottle over Tabitha’s head. The woman collapsed in a heap.
Mel turned once more toward Anton, but before she could take a step, Henry Rigor tackled her to the ground.
“Time to die, coward,” he said, wrapping his hands around her throat.
Mel reached down between his legs, grabbed, squeezed, and twisted.
Rigor howled and let go of Mel’s throat—and Mel shoved the jagged end of the broken beer bottle into his eye. He screamed, grabbed at his gored face, and fell to his side.
By now, Anton had escaped to the other side of the camp. He held up a fist, and with his other hand he pointed toward the woods. Light shot forth from his hand in a swirl of reds and oranges, shining bright in the darkness, forming a pool wide enough for ten men to walk through.
Everyone froze, transfixed by what was happening. Anton had opened a portal.
He took one step toward it, staring into the pitch-black abyss on the other side. For a moment, all was silent and still.
And then the foulest creature Mel had ever seen stepped through the portal from the other side.
Oh, Grandma. They’re worse than you described.
The creature crawled on all fours, but gracefully, its feet light on the ground. Its skin was gossamer black, with a deadly sheen as if wet. The demon darted its thin black tongue over a slit nose and raked it over milky white eyes. The tongue returned to its mouth, which opened to reveal foul, wretched, rotten teeth.
Then the Malum screeched. The sound was death and pain and sorrow.
Four more dark creatures followed the first from the portal. All made the same horrible sound.
“Bring her to me!” Anton shouted, pointing directly at Mel.
The creatures attacked, and everyone scattered.
Mel scanned frantically for a weapon, and spotted Tabitha Bartley’s knife on the ground. She kicked it up into her hand and turned to meet the first Malum, which was already upon her. As she swung the knife at its shoulder, she leapt out of the creature’s path. But although the blade met its target, it didn’t even pierce the demon’s flesh.
Mel scrambled to her feet as the demon turned and came at her again. It snapped at her face, and she barely avoided its reach. Backing up, she tripped over something and fell. On the ground, she saw what she had tripped over: Sapienti Reddy’s corpse. His once-warm eyes were now cold, lifeless.
The anger inside her lit up like a flame. It took Mel only a moment to realize that it was the sun serpent, hissing in anger.
The Malum leapt on top of Mel and attacked ferociously. Mel twisted and turned, trying to get out from under it. Its putrid stench was suffocating her, and its fetid mouth was always inches from her face, neck, or shoulder. When the Malum rose up to strike Mel with its claws, she quickly rolled over onto Sapienti Reddy’s dead body. Her hand felt the leather hilt of his sword, and she pulled it smoothly from its scabbard. As the creature came down on her heavily, its mouth wide open, its vile tongue slicking across corroded teeth, Mel pointed the curved blade toward the belly of the creature.
The gold blade punctured the creature like a needle through cloth, painting Mel’s torso with a spray of thick, black blood. Feeling she had the upper hand, Mel kicked the Malum off her, rose to her feet and cut off the foul creature’s head.
It meant to kill me, not take me, Mel thought.
As she looked around her, all she saw was death. Those who weren’t already dead were screaming with defiance as their life left them, or screaming for help with their last breath. But only one of those voices registered in Mel’s brain.
“Help! Help me!” Charlotte screamed.
Another of the demons was on top of her, its front legs wrapped around her waist.
Mel ran toward her cousin and grabbed Charlotte’s arm just as the creature sprang toward Anton, carrying Charlotte, and dragging Mel along with it.
She’s the one they want! Charlotte!
With sudden urgency, Mel swung the gold blade at the creature’s legs, ripping cartilage and bone. Black blood squirted out, getting in her mouth. It tasted of rot and waste, nauseating and repugnant. But the demon released Charlotte, and she and Mel fell in a heap on the ground.
“Get up, Charlotte!” Mel shouted as she jumped to her feet and faced the now-three-legged demon. It was screeching in anger and hate. White,
pupil-less eyes burning with fire were focused entirely at Mel.
Mel could feel the beast inside her growling, wanting to be free. Its power filled her blood and bones, like breathing fire to life. She imagined the sweet feeling of letting the beast take over. She realized that the taste of Malum blood had ignited the beast even more; whereas it had disgusted her, her inner beast wanted more of it.
Taking heed in Lasade Kale’s words, she swallowed down the anger and the beast, crouched down, and brought the curved sword up in front of her. She lunged forward, sliced off another leg, and just managed to jump out of the way of the creature’s mouth, which snapped mere inches from her thigh.
With a twist of her feet, she was once again facing the creature. It let out a furious screech, and Mel swung her sword across its throat, almost severing the creature’s head from its body. Black carnage splattered on the grass, and the Malum fell to the ground. Mel ruthlessly stabbed until it was silent and still.
Maybe she hadn’t quite reined in the beast.
At the sound of another screech, Mel looked up to see two more of the creatures bearing down on her from the opposite side of the clearing, red blood coating their snouts. Mel prepared to meet them, but Charlotte grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the trees.
“Run, Mel!”
Mel ran. She hated every step she was taking away from the fight, but she knew it was the smart thing to do.
As they entered the trees, Charlotte slowed. “I can’t see!” she cried.
“I can!” Mel shouted back, not pausing to explain. She took her cousin’s hand and pulled her through the woods. She could hear the Malum behind them, chasing them, clawing through the trees. They ran and ran. And then Mel reached a part of the forest she recognized, and she changed their direction, moving east.
“Mel, they’re catching up!”
I know!
Mel was gripped by fear. She didn’t think she could fight both demons. Or at least, she couldn’t occupy them both at once. Which meant while she fought one, the other would take Charlotte. If only Charlotte had a weapon. Mel should’ve grabbed the other off of Sapienti Reddy. Then they would’ve had a shot. But she hadn’t been thinking clearly.
Movement sounded from overhead, and instinctively, Mel brought her sword up in an upward swing—just as one of the demons leapt off a tree. Her sword nearly sawed off one of the demon’s legs, and the Malum went crashing into the brush, screeching. The other demon came crashing through leaves and branches, and Mel turned and ran once more, still pulling Charlotte behind her.
But they were both tiring, and Mel knew they couldn’t keep up this pace. When they reached an area where the ground was uneven, the time had come to change tactics.
Mel backed Charlotte into a copse of trees that stood next to a grassy ledge, and the two women put their backs to a big oak. Mel's hope was to lure at least one of the creatures in so she could kick it down the steep decline.
In seconds the demons were near, just across the tall grass, maleficent and disgusting, full of pain and sorrow. Mel’s blood sang in defiance. The wounded one was laboring, favoring its injured side, but it was still deadly. Its white eyes bored into Mel. The other climbed up a tree just a few yards away and looked down at them with a single milky-white eye. It made no movement, just bared its teeth.
“One is above us,” Mel whispered to Charlotte. “The other is hiding in the grass. When they attack, you run. I’ll hold them off.”
“Mel—”
“Do as I say. Run east—you know the way. Don’t stop.”
“I can’t see in the dark, Mel,” Charlotte said weakly.
Mel hated the fear she heard in her cousin’s voice. And she hated the demon skulking in the tree, and the other that was circling them just a short distance away. She hated that she had only one sword. She hated that her brothers and Thrash were miles away—too far to reach, too far to help. She hated that her grandmother had been right all this time. She hated to be proven wrong like this. It was the worst way. The worst.
She hated that she had prepared for this, her entire life… and even so, she had not prepared enough. She was going to lose. Her body, her mind, her cousin. Why did they want Charlotte?
The demon on the ground made its move. All signs of its previous laboring were gone as it attacked, clearly attempting to separate the two women. But Mel stuck by Charlotte’s side; she would not leave Charlotte defenseless.
Unfortunately, staying at Charlotte’s side prevented Mel from being able to attack with the fervor she wished to. She was unable to harm the creature; the best she could do was keep it at bay. And all the while, the other demon waited in the trees above. Mel kept an eye out for its attack, knowing it would be soon.
It waited for the right moment—a moment when Mel was defending against the other demon and unable to protect herself. The one-eyed demon crashed into her, taking her to the ground and away from Charlotte. It sank its teeth into Mel’s shoulder, and she felt her collar bone being crushed between its teeth. The pain was excruciating. Blood gushed out of her, red and hot, soaking her shirt, and the Malum’s disgusting tongue lapped it up, slithering through her wound, even as it continued to bite down.
But then Mel caught a break. The wounded demon, seeing that Mel was vulnerable, vengefully attacked Mel instead of taking Charlotte. And when it got close, Mel stuck the gold blade deep within its torso, grabbed hold of the demon biting her, and rolled, with both demons still attached, over the ledge and down the hill.
Down the three of them tumbled, over and over for what felt like ages. At some point during the fall, the one-eyed demon released her shoulder, and Mel leveraged her body so it took the brunt of the damage on the steep hill. Somehow she managed to hold on to the sword, which was still impaled in the other.
When they rolled to a stop, the impaled demon wrenched itself free of the sword and slithered away.
Mel jumped to her feet, heedless of the wound on her shoulder, and faced the one-eyed demon.
It rose onto its hind legs and hissed between sharp, decayed teeth. Then it charged.
Mel dodged the attack, spinning and arcing her sword in an upward motion. When she heard the loud screech, she knew her sword had hit home. She pounced on the creature, stuck her sword right in its eye, and pressed down until the demon went still.
She stepped back from the malignant corpse and took stock of her wound. It stung, but it wasn’t as bad as she’d first thought. The bleeding had stopped, and although she would need stitches, she was able to move her left arm with only slight pain. Her collarbone was not broken as she had believed.
She ran back up the incline, back toward Charlotte, who was yelling her head off at the top of the hill.
“MEL! MEEEEELLL!”
“I’m here, I’m all right,” Mel said as she reached the top of the hill.
“Oh, thank God,” Charlotte said, relieved. “I thought you—”
It came down from the sky, silent as death. The Malum swooped in and grabbed Charlotte right off the ground. Mel jumped for Charlotte’s outstretched hand, and almost grabbed on. But they were only able to join fingertips, and it wasn’t enough. Their hands slipped apart, and Charlotte was lifted away into the sky.
Mel saw the look on Charlotte’s face—the fear, the helplessness—and could do nothing for it.
The frustration and anger she’d kept a tight rein on all night erupted to the surface. Her roar was deafening, tearing out of her throat.
It was the only moment’s respite she gave herself before she ran back toward the clearing.
Chapter Fourteen
Mel tore through the trees, moving a lot quicker now that she was alone. For the love of all things good, she wished she wasn’t. She wished she were still traipsing through the woods with her cousin, scared and all. But she knew the demon would be taking Charlotte back to that portal, and she had to get there first.
She only hoped that her cousin was still alive.
As she neared the
clearing, an orange glow made her cautious. She slowed down and hid behind a tree. There were no signs of Charlotte, but the Malum that had taken her stood near the portal to Inter Spatium Abyssus. Which meant she was too late. Charlotte had already been sent through.
She was certain this was the same Malum, for it was much larger than the others Mel had faced. Its body was narrow, and decayed skin hung off of it. Its hind legs were wide with muscled tendons, and its feet were like talons. Tattered wings fluttered soundlessly as it bent to pull meat off the bones of a fallen descendant. Mel didn’t want to know which one. The bodies strewn about made her sick… but she focused on her anger instead. Anger was easy. It was far preferable to pain.
Anton stood with a torch next to the Malum. Beside him was a figure dressed in black. Mel couldn’t make out the face, but when the man spoke his voice sounded familiar.
“You’ve done well, Anton,” said the man in black. “Excellent, isn’t it? When your plan is well executed? You shall be promoted to the inner circle for this.”
“I’m the only one alive, Sapienti,” Anton said angrily. He looked worse for wear—he had a bleeding gash on his cheek, and he kept shaking his right arm. “Those fucking Malum killed indiscriminately. I thought for sure they were going to kill the girl!”
“They are easily controlled,” the man in black said pleasantly, holding up a stone that glowed red and orange. “With the right stone. My stone is born of darkness.”
Anton took Sapienti Reddy’s stone out of his pocket. “So this one—”
“Opens the gate. That’s all.”
“I could have died,” Anton said, indignant. “The Malum’s skin is impenetrable to my blade—I'm amazed that any were slain! If there is a weapon that can be used against them, you should’ve armed me with it!”
“Only a weapon forged by one of the Great Seven could kill a Malum,” said the man in black, looking at a dead Malum. “But those weapons were lost long ago.”
This seemed to appease Anton somewhat. He stood quietly, as if his anger had run out.
“But this is an interesting find. I will have to look into it further,” the man in black murmured, as if to himself. Then, louder: “Anton, if I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Now. I need you to take that stone to Daniels.”
