“What’s wrong with her?” I asked worriedly. “Did the incubus do something to her?”
“You haven’t told her what to do,” Morgan informed me with a frown. “She’s waiting for your orders.”
“What?” I exclaimed, aghast. “Why? The ring’s gone! She’s free now!”
Morgan exchanged a look with Mrs. Kendricks. “The will of an incubus doesn’t depend on the ring, Peter,” Mrs. Kendricks explained. “It just made it easier for him to overcome our wards and capture us. We’re still under his control. Your control,” she corrected herself doubtfully.
“Oh my God.” This wasn’t what I meant to happen at all. “What do I do?”
“What do you want to happen, Peter?” Morgan asked. “Tell us and we’ll do it for you.”
“That’s exactly what I don’t want! I don’t want to control you! I want you to think for yourselves!”
“Then order us to be free.”
I blinked at her. “Really? That’ll work?”
Morgan nodded but Mrs. Kendricks looked uneasy. “It’s never been done before, to my knowledge,” she admitted. “An incubus never surrenders its hold over its victims, although its influence fades over time in its absence. Your situation is unique. We know you’re not the incubus but the compulsion to obey you is still strong. If you set us aside,” she shrugged resignedly, “we’ll have no choice but to comply.”
“You’re making it sound like you don’t want me to free you,” I observed uneasily.
“I don’t,” she confessed. “I love you, Peter, and I want to be with you forever.” The other women murmured their agreement with her sentiment.
“Do not heed her words, Peter Simon Collins,” Daraxandriel warned me. “They are enamored of thee solely by the touch of the incubus. Once they are freed, they shall thank thee for their lives and their liberty.”
A patrol car raced down Parker Road towards the cemetery’s entrance, its siren on and lights flashing. We didn’t have much time. “Okay,” I said, “let’s do this. Everyone, listen up! Simon says, effective immediately, you’re no longer under anyone’s control, especially mine. You’re all free!”
Mrs. Kendricks gasped and swayed on her feet, closing her eyes and shaking her head. When she opened her eyes again, they were back to normal. She looked around as if she didn’t quite recognize her surroundings. All around her, the other women reacted in much the same way, some of them sinking to the ground as their legs failed to hold them up.
“Oh, no.” I looked around for the source of that horrified gasp. Rebecca knelt on the grass, staring at her empty hands. When she looked up at me, her eyes were luminous green. “Peter, what have you done?” Her voice echoed, as if three women spoke the words together.
“Goddess?” I blurted incredulously. “What’s wrong?”
My answer was a low, wicked chuckle, but it didn’t come from Rebecca. Instead, Amy straightened to her full height, but this was a new version of her I hadn’t seen before. This one was taller, maybe twenty years old, with wavy black hair that rivaled Susie’s in length and black lips and long black fingernails. She still wore the dress she’d borrowed from Stacy’s closet but now the fabric strained against her chest and hips.
“Nothing’s wrong, Peter,” she gloated. Her eyes were the same icy blue as before but now her pupils were slitted like a cat’s. “Thanks to you, everything is perfect!” Her smile revealed canines that were definitely pointy now. The witches closest to her scrambled to get away from her and protective pentagrams popped up all around like mushrooms after a rainstorm. Only Rebecca remained where she was, watching Amy’s transformation with an expression of hopeless dismay.
“Wh – what’s going on?” I stammered. “Amy, what’s happening?”
“Why, I’m free, Peter!” she declared joyously, flinging her arms out wide, “for the first time in forever! Isn’t it wonderful? Oh, it feels so good to be able to stretch my wings again!” I thought she was just being metaphorical until the back of her dress suddenly bulged and tore away as two black-feathered wings exploded out to either side, each one a good four feet across.
They weren’t just for show either. They flapped once, stirring up a pair of swirling dust devils, and she rose up into the air, laughing like a child opening presents on Christmas Day. Out on the street, cars squealed to a halt, doors slammed, and excited voices called out as people gaped at the sight of a winged woman hovering over a cemetery full of witches. Quite a few cellphones recorded the event for posterity.
“What’s going on?” I asked again, hoping someone would tell me why Amy suddenly had wings. Those tattoos on her back, I thought bleakly, they must have been the real thing in disguise. But what changed? All I did was free the witches from the incubus’s control. No, I told myself as my heart sank in despair, I freed all of them from all control. I took away whatever Metraxion did to keep her powers locked up. This is what Amy really looks like. Not, not Amy, Amaryx, the daughter of the Dread Lord of Hell.
I watched helplessly as Amaryx spiraled up higher into the sky. Above her, dark, roiling clouds appeared out of nowhere and covered the sky, turning the sun into a dull, bloodshot eye. Thunder rumbled ominously and lightning flashed in the distance as a warm, dry wind swirled around us.
“People of Hellburn!” Amaryx called eagerly. “Rejoice! Your Queen has come to rule you! Worship me or face my wrath!” Lightning boomed around her and a sputtering, sticky rain began to fall.
“Well,” I said to no one in particular, “this isn’t good.”
Sudden Death Page 34
