Necessary Evil

by Donald Hanley

  The demon roared wordlessly and twisted around, straining against Singh’s restraints as he searched for the culprit. Two snarling hellhounds charged her and she had to release Orixnador to hide behind another shield, flinching as they threw themselves against the barrier.

  I ran to Daraxandriel’s side, heedless of the blood as I rolled her over carefully. For a heart-stopping moment I thought she was dead, but she moaned and tried to push my hands aside, hands that were now visible. I kept one on the ragged gashes that circled her waist and tapped Restore. Daraxandriel gasped and her eyes snapped open, but her wounds were only partially healed, the worst ones still oozing blood.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked frantically. “Why can’t I heal you?”

  “The whip is cursed,” she whispered, trying to push herself up. “It needs must be destroyed.”

  “How?”

  “I know not. Where is my sword?” Her hands swept the ground fruitlessly.

  “I need to get you out of here!” I grabbed her arm and readied Teleportal.

  “Nay! We needs must slay Lilixandriel, else all will be for naught.”

  Three more pallets of stones dropped in quick succession around Orixnador, sending fragments everywhere, but only one came close to hitting him. The demon knocked it aside and I pulled Daraxandriel out of the way, back towards the stacks. She shook me off and staggered over to where her sword lay, nearly falling as she bent down to retrieve it.

  “Peter.” Susie stumbled towards us, leaning heavily against the remaining stacks to keep herself upright. She looked terrible, ghastly pale and hollow-eyed, more like a ghost than Olivia was. “I need ... your Stone.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” I caught her just as her legs gave way and lowered her carefully to the floor.

  “Tired,” she panted. “Too many … portals.” She reached out and tried to grab the neck of my shirt. “The Stone ...” I fumbled for it and tried to pull it over my head to give her but she stopped me. “Just hold it ... in your hand.”

  I rested the crystal on my palm and Susie placed her trembling hand over mine, pressing the Stone between us. Brilliant ruby light flared out from in between and she gasped as color flooded back into her cheeks. She still looked exhausted but she was no longer an extra from a zombie movie.

  “Wow,” she breathed, “that’s a rush.” She released the Stone and flexed her fingers experimentally.

  “Peter!”

  Olivia’s shout spun me around as another hellhound bounded towards us. I desperately tried to target it as Daraxandriel clumsily raised her sword, but then Susie’s portal flickered on and off and the front half of the hound simply vanished. The rest of it tumbled past us, spilling blood and entrails everywhere.

  “Oh, gross,” Susie complained. “I didn’t think it was going to be that messy.”

  Orixnador snapped his whip back to strike again and then he grunted and staggered as something hit him hard, although I couldn’t see what it was. Prescott jabbed his wand at him again and a trail of distortion shot out, like a compact shockwave. It struck the demon in his gut, driving him back another step, but he shook it off quickly and raised his hand to attack, only to be caught by Singh’s loops again. The two hellhounds that threatened her lay dead at her feet.

  Orixnador struggled to free himself, slowly tearing the glowing bonds apart, and then he suddenly fell to his knees, groaning with the effort to keep himself upright. I recognized that effect and looked around hurriedly. Mrs. Kendricks stood in the center of an ornate pentagram with one hand outstretched and the other interlocked with Stacy’s.

  “Now!” Prescott shouted. “Hit him with everything you have!”

  I targeted Orixnador and started punching every spell on my main bar: Flame Lance, Immobilize, Mind Shock, Crush, Frost Lance. Every one of them struck but Orixnador brushed them off. Prescott’s shockwaves pummeled him as the demon strained and heaved and got one foot underneath him, trying to stand.

  “To me!” he roared and another dark gate opened behind him. A new hellhound leapt through and Prescott was forced to dodge out of its way. A pile of tile boxes dropped on the next one, crushing its hindquarters, but two more jumped over its writhing body and charged Prescott. He hid behind his shield but the distraction allowed Orixnador to regain his footing. Mrs. Kendricks and Stacy and Singh were all trembling with the effort of keeping him restrained but they weren’t going to be able to hold him for much longer.

  Then a small black sphere, like a dodgeball made of smoke, sped towards Orixnador and he struggled to move out of its path. It brushed his left shoulder and he bellowed as his arm fell limp at his side. The hellhound gate collapsed with one of the beasts only halfway through and its remains twitched on the ground before shuddering and lying still.

  Another sphere followed the first and I looked around to see where they were coming from. My breath caught in my throat as I gaped up at Melissa, hovering in mid-air with her hair drifting around her shoulders like she was floating underwater. A dark aura surrounded her and I had a chilling flashback to that Christmas raid in Lorecraft, when Melisandre rose above the battlefield to destroy the world boss, heedlessly slaughtering half of the assembled players while doing it.

  Orixnador finally broke Singh’s bonds and jumped out of the path of the second sphere, cracking his whip at Melissa. The tip touched her aura and the last two feet simply vanished. The demon gaped in astonishment but his hesitation only lasted for a moment.

  “Slay the witches!” he ordered. “Kill them all!”

  There were four hellhounds left. One of them charged Mrs. Kendricks and Stacy, forcing them to abandon their attack on Orixnador and hide behind their own shield, while another one tried to break through Prescott’s defenses. The remaining two stalked the group huddled around me, snarling menacingly.

  Melissa reached down with a hand wreathed in shadow and the hellhound threatening Mrs. Kendricks simply died, its life force sucked away. Her aura faded, though, and Orixnador struck at her again. She flew upwards, trying to avoid the whip, but it wrapped itself around her leg and she screamed as she was pulled out of the air, hitting the floor hard with a sickening thud.

  “Melissa!” The hellhounds blocked my path, forcing me back, and Daraxandriel planted herself in front of me with her sword, even though she could barely lift it. Tile boxes and bags of mortar dropped around us, forcing the hounds to dodge aside but they refused to retreat and the aerial barrage faltered as Susie slumped to the floor.

  “Do something, Peter,” she mumbled wearily. “We’re losing.”

  My major damage spells were still on cooldown but I hit one of the hounds with Blood Darts, puncturing it with a hundred tiny holes. The spell didn’t kill it but it slowed it down long enough for Daraxandriel to impale it with her sword.

  “We needs must end this, Peter Simon Collins,” she gasped, clutching her side where her wounds had reopened. “Orixnador has a legion of hounds at his call, we cannot defeat them all.”

  I threw Earth Bind at the other hellhound, locking it in place before it could jump us, and then used Lightning Strike again to incinerate it. Prescott finally killed the last hound and we all stood there gasping for breath in the sudden lull as Orixnador slowly straightened to his full height.

  “Thou worthless vermin,” he sneered. “Thou hast been tried and found wanting. Thou art powerless against the might of a true lord of Hell.”

  “Cease thy pratings and take the Stone,” Lilixandriel snapped from the shelves. I was surprised she was still here. I fully expected her to run at the first sign of trouble. “Make haste, others will come to their aid anon.”

  “Let them,” Orixnador snarled. “They shall meet the same fate as these.” He released Melissa from his whip and turned to me. “Surrender the Stone, boy,” he ordered, raising the whip menacingly, “and thy death shall be swift.”

  His arm hung limply and his cuirass was scarred and smoldering, but we were still in far worse shape than he was. I was the only on
e of us who wasn’t exhausted or critically injured. No, I realized suddenly, not the only one.

  “Olivia,” I whispered out of the corner of my mouth. She stood off to the side, wide-eyed and trembling. “I’ll keep him distracted. Get behind him and do that heart thing again.”

  “What?” she asked, aghast. “I can’t do that! It’s – it’s icky!”

  “Do it!” She gulped nervously and then nodded jerkily, sidling past the corpses of the hellhounds. “You can’t win,” I called to Orixnador with as much confidence as I could muster. “Lilith’s going to cheat you out of the Stone.”

  “Peter Simon Collins!” Daraxandriel hissed at me urgently. “Didst thou dispatch Olivia to assail Orixnador?”

  “Ssh!” I told her. “She wants the Stone for herself,” I continued aloud. “She won’t let you rule Hell.”

  “I would expect no less from a queen of Hell,” Orixnador said with a humorless smile. “I will enjoy breaking her spirit, once I sit upon the Burning Throne.”

  “He hunts and slays souls!” Daraxandriel persisted. “Olivia is in peril!”

  “What? Oh, shit!” I whirled around, searching for her. “Olivia, get out of here!”

  Olivia was halfway to the demon, creeping along the shelves, but she stopped and looked back at me in surprise. Orixnador looked straight at her and his smile widened.

  “Dost this feeble spirit truly seek to harm me?” he mocked. “It shall suffer the fate of all its ilk who defy me: torment and death.”

  Olivia gasped and tried to run but Orixnador’s whip caught her before she took two steps, wrapping itself tightly around her and sending her crashing to the floor in eerie silence. She shrieked as she struggled to free herself but the bones tore her clothing and ripped her ghostly flesh. Her wounds didn’t bleed but she was clearly in agony.

  “Olivia!” I flung every spell I had left at Orixnador but he pulled Olivia closer and dangled her at the end of his whip and I had to stop for fear of hitting her. She writhed in pain but her movements were growing steadily weaker as she began to fade from sight. “Let her go!” I begged him.

  “Thou art in no position to make demands of me, boy,” he sneered. “Thou shalt be next to feel my whip.”

  “Take the Stone!” I pulled the chain over my head and held it up, the ruby gleaming under the lights. “Just let her go!”

  “Wouldst thou truly surrender thy Stone for this wretched soul?” Orixnador asked scornfully. “Thou art not worthy to bear such a treasure.”

  “No, Peter, don’t do it.” I could barely hear Olivia’s voice.

  “Don’t be stupid, Peter!” Prescott shouted. “You can’t let him have that much power!”

  “Silence!” snapped the demon. “Be thankful thy lives are still thine. Bring the Stone to me, boy,” he ordered, “and I shall –”

  Without warning, a three-foot section of his whip simply evaporated and Olivia dropped to the floor at his feet. Orixnador fell back in surprise and then he dropped the remains his whip and grabbed his chest with a grunt of pain.

  “Who dares –?” he rasped and his eyes fell on Melissa. She was propped up on one elbow, one hand clutching her bloodied leg and the other outstretched, burning with black fire. Orixnador stepped towards her, fighting against her spell as his skin turned mottled and gray, like he was aging right before our eyes. He moved forward relentlessly, though, and Melissa’s flames flickered out as she slumped to the floor, completely drained.

  “Cursèd witches,” Orixnador spat, his breath rasping in his throat. “Thou shalt all suffer –” White fire flashed around his neck and he toppled to the ground with a shuddering impact I felt through my shoes. His head landed a short distance away and rolled to a stop at Prescott’s feet.

  “Idiot,” Susie muttered behind me, leaning her head back against one of the stacks. “He should have summoned more hellhounds when he had the chance.”

  An inarticulate scream of rage rang through the warehouse and I looked up just in time to see Lilixandriel retreat through another shadow gate. In the distance, sirens wailed, drawing quickly closer.

  “You need to get out of here, all of you,” Prescott told us urgently. “If the police find you here –” He didn’t have to finish the sentence. I could imagine the consequences perfectly well on my own.

  “What about you, Ryan?” Mrs. Kendricks knelt by Melissa’s side, helping her sit up. “Chief Collins already suspects –”

  “We know how to deal with the authorities. Go!” Behind him, Singh ran to Shelby’s side but the fallen agent remained motionless.

  I slung the Philosopher’s Stone over my head and ran to Olivia’s side. She was conscious, but only barely, and as transparent as glass. “Olivia!” I grabbed the links of bone still snaring her and used Decay. The whip crumbled into white dust and she drew in a shuddering breath. Wide gashes criss-crossed her body, almost like knife cuts in fresh dough, but I couldn’t target her to heal her. “Olivia, turn human!”

  “No,” she murmured, trying to push me away. All I felt was a vague chill. “You’ll see me.”

  “I won’t look, I promise. Just do it, please.”

  Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at me with eyes that held only the faintest hint of color. “I’m dying again, Peter,” she whispered.

  “Don’t leave me, Olivia. Turn human,” I insisted.

  For a moment, I thought she was going to refuse. Then she squeezed her eyes shut and the tattered remnants of her nightgown vanished as she became solid. Her wounds immediately gushed blood and I hurriedly used Restore on her. The shallowest cuts closed up but the deepest ones still gaped.

  “Destroy the rest of the whip!” I shouted, looking around for the piece Orixnador had dropped. “It’s keeping me from healing her!” I spotted it a few feet away but Prescott reached it first. He grabbed it and it immediately burst into flame, shredding into black ash.

  I tried Restore again and this time it worked completely, erasing Olivia’s wounds. She drew in a long, relieved breath and her eyes slowly opened, scanning my face as she smiled up at me. Then she looked down at herself and gasped in horror.

  “Peter!” She popped and tried to cover herself up with her shredded nightgown. “You said you wouldn’t look!”

  “Hurry!” Prescott ordered impatiently. The sirens were really close now, approaching from multiple directions.

  “What about Agent Shelby?” I asked, getting up to help her, but Prescott waved me away.

  “We’ll take care of her. Go! We’ll contact you once things settle down.”

  “But what are we going to do with all this?” I asked, waving at Orixnador’s remains and the hellhound corpses scattered all around. “How are you going to explain this?”

  “We’ve done this many times before, Peter,” he said grimly. “Just get everyone out of here.”

  I hesitated and then nodded. I had to trust that he knew what he was doing, not that I had much of a choice. I ran to Susie and helped her stand. “Can you use your portal?”

  She leaned heavily against me and grabbed the Philosopher’s Stone, breathing in deeply as red light flared between her fingers. “Now I can,” she said, pushing my hands away. “Don’t move,” she warned Mrs. Kendricks as she and Stacy crouched beside Melissa. A moment later, a portal flashed under their feet and they were gone. “And now us.”

  “Wait! Olivia, come on!” I waved her over urgently and she ran over, clutching my arm with her familiar icy touch as Daraxandriel pressed close to my other side. “Okay, do it,” I told Susie.

  The showroom doors burst open then and Dad and two other officers ran in, their weapon drawn. “Hands up!” he barked, just as the warehouse disappeared around us.

  19

  I don’t understand depression. By that I mean, I get that it’s a serious and debilitating illness and I know that there are a lot of people out there suffering from it, but I just can’t comprehend what it’s like. I’ve been sad and discouraged and unmotivated and disheartened a
t various times in my life but I’ve never gotten to the point where everything seems so bleak and so hopeless that I just can’t function. How someone can convince themselves that the only way out is suicide is completely beyond me. Try as I might, I just can’t relate.

  That’s the problem with mental illness, unfortunately. Those of us who don’t suffer from depression or schizophrenia or anorexia don’t really know what these people are going through. Telling them to cheer up or shoving a hamburger into their hands doesn’t do anything to help them. They’re ill and they need specialized treatment if they’re going to have any hope of getting better. It’s like telling someone with a broken leg to shake it off and get back on their feet. It not only doesn’t do any good, it can actually make things worse.

  The thing about depression in particular is that this disease makes it almost impossible for the victim to seek help, even if they recognize the need for it. That’s why it’s important to always have friends and family around you, people who know you and care about you. Even if you’re stuck at the bottom of a well, you can always climb out again as long as there’s someone up top who can throw you a rope.

  “The one bit of good news out of all of this is that Chief Collins no longer thinks I’m lying to him.” Agent Prescott sounded completely worn out over Mrs. Kendricks’ phone. “The hostages you rescued described Lilixandriel to a T, silver hair and all.”

  “What about the demon?” I asked worriedly. “Nobody thinks Lilith and Dara look strange even with the horns and tails but he was eight feet tall.”

  “With all the confusion after you left, Jazz was able to cast a glamour on the body. They think he’s just a male version of Lilixandriel.”

  “Jazz?”

  “Jaspinder. Agent Singh.”

  “What about the hellhounds, then?” Stacy asked skeptically. “They don’t look like regular dogs.”