****
I find Dham firing the rubber rounds at a paper target. I hang back to watch him shoot. He's actually really good, most of his shots clustering near the heart. I think I can see a few holes in the head of the target too. When he stops to slide in a new clip, I walk over to him.
"Nice work," I compliment, gesturing at his handiwork.
He shrugs, a sort of American aw shucks look on his face. For a moment he is totally and completely adorable. "I'm out of practice."
"You wouldn't know it." I tuck my arms across my chest and lean against the wall behind the shooting area. "Mind if I watch?"
"Sure." He chambers a round, careful to point the loaded gun away from me. "You want to fire off a few?"
I shake my head. I don't like guns. I can use them if I'm forced to, but I'm not drawn to them. Actually, they scare the hell out of me. I'm not sure if it's just my fear of them misfiring and blowing off the back of the gun and all of my face, or if it's only a lack of experience, but either way, I am way too uncomfortable around them. I prefer the simplicity of my blades.
He takes up a shooting stance and fires, squeezing off rounds in rapid succession. I flinch at each gunshot, unable to stop the automatic reaction to the loud pop of noise. When he's finished, the target looks shredded along the left side. I clap, duly impressed.
He checks the chamber to make sure the gun is empty, then gathers up his things. "Where can I return this?"
"Back to Kevin. He's sort of the gunmaster - or whatever you'd call it." I follow him out into the hallway.
Dham opens his mouth to respond, then frowns. Ryland is heading over to us, followed by Kevin and Peter. He shoots me a questioning look and I shrug, unsure of why all three would be looking for us.
"Suit up, Amaranth," Ryland says. "You've got another pickup."
"Package or person this time?"
Ryland smiles. "Does it make a difference?"
I grin back. "Sure it does. One fits in my pocket, the other doesn't."
He ruffles my hair like I'm a twelve year old. I scowl as the strands of hair I've forced into a short ponytail come loose to hang about my face. "Get on with you. Kevin has the brief."
Peter gestures to Dham as I walk to Kevin. Ryland retreats back towards his office, secure that Kevin and I can handle things. I listen closely to the details of the pickup; another contingent is coming for whatever meeting Ryland's called. It's my job—and that of team—to deliver them safely. He runs through the particulars of location and arrangements, including the team members and then cuts me loose to get ready.
I can hear little of the conversation between Dham and Peter, but I can read their body language fairly well. Dham is stiff, holding himself back, whereas Peter is leaning forward, words coming out quickly and intently. It almost looks like he's invading Dham's space, and Dham is clearly not happy about it. By Peter's gestures, I can tell he's getting frustrated, but he's managing to keep his voice low enough that I can't quite make out what they are arguing about.
Instinctively, I tense. I get a twinge when I see Peter arguing with Dham, but I can’t figure out why. But I do know that I do not like the way he seems to be browbeating Dham.
I remind myself that it's not my business and that I have a job to do. I try to catch Dham's eye to wave goodbye, but he's deep in it with Peter. I continue down the hall on my own, heading towards the locker room.
I'm sliding the holsters for my blades over the Kevlar vest. We all try to wear some kind of body armor when we go into the tunnels. You never can predict what you might run into and what might actually save your life. I turn my head when Dham walks in. He looks unhappy. I don't say anything at first, choosing instead to give him a little space. I finish checking the fit of the harness and begin to wrap my rosary around the hilt of one of my blades.
He joins me in front of the steamer trunk, reaching in to grab the belt that holds his bells.
"What are you doing?" I ask as he begins to fasten the belt around his waist.
"Going with you." Dham doesn't look at me, instead busying himself with the fastenings.
"Ryland didn't say that you had to come along." My voice is hesitant and I hate myself for sounding that way. I don't like how I'm deferring to his mood, like he's someone I've known for a long time. "And I highly doubt he'd want you risking yourself in the tunnels."
Dham's head comes up and there's an ugly look on his face. It's as close to a snarl as I've ever seen him get. "I don't remember asking you for an opinion."
I stare at him. Then I snap at him. "That's too bad, because my opinion actually counts this time. I'm in charge of this expedition and you and your attitude are not welcome." I move to brush past him, unwilling to risk the mission on his fit of pique.
He grabs my upper arm. I pull away from him, angry now. "Wait." His voice is low, so I can barely hear him. "I'm sorry. It's not right to take it out on you."
"Take what out on me?" I cock my head, observing him. "Does this have to do with what you and Peter were talking about back there?"
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Kind of, yeah." His eyes flash up and catch mine and I need to remind myself that I am angry with him. His look of contrition nearly does me in. "He doesn't think I should go out there."
"Ever occur to you he might have a valid reason?" I'm not willing to let Dham off the hook. I’m shocked that Peter and I would agree on anything, but Dham is valuable.
He expels a breath in frustration. "I understand where he's coming from." At my disbelieving look, he reiterates, "I do. But I can't just sit down here and do nothing but practice ringing when there's nothing at stake." His face is serious. "I've got to be ready when we go take out the Gate."
"The Gate?" I lower my voice to a whisper, in case anyone should come into the locker room. "Is that what all this meeting business is about?"
He nods. "I thought you knew, being so close to Ryland and all."
I shake my head, stunned. The Gate. Had the Resistance found the location of it finally? Dham's voice jerks me out of my thoughts. "Peter just doesn’t know when to quit, and he worries too much about my safety.” He sighs. “So am I forgiven? Can I join your team?"
I turn back and shut the steamer trunk with more force than necessary. I can't get over the idea of the Gate--the portal that lets the demons enter our world. But I need to be focused. I can't afford distraction right now. I'll think about Rome later. I look at Dham for a long moment. "Just stay in the middle of the pack." He ambles along behind me like an eager puppy.
We meet up with the rest of the escort team, and I give out places and instructions. There are seven of us, counting Dham, who is in the center of the group, safely surrounded by the rest of us. I've got the point, as usual. As we move out of the train car and into the tunnels proper, I have to admit that I am glad Dham is with us. His bells could come in very useful down here.
We're only a half mile in when the first Bottomdweller strikes. I sense movement off to my left. I move to engage, signaling everyone else to keep moving. I hit it first and see that it is man-shaped, but instead of legs, it stands on lots of thin, spidery tentacles. Then it is moving and I have more important things to worry about; as it comes closer, I can see that each tentacle is tipped with a stinger of some kind.
I dodge and slash, always moving to make myself harder to hit. Several tentacles drop to the ground from my blades, but more seem to be taking their place. As I bob and weave, trying to avoid being hit by the stingers plunging at me, I try to get in a body or head shot. It's not happening and I realize I'm being pushed farther away from the group.
The demon turns suddenly, targeting the main group. It skitters forward, stingers waving as the thing strikes randomly. The group scatters, but from my vantage point I can see who it is going after. It follows the splintered group still protecting Dham, trying to separate him out from the others. I can see him working to loose one of the bells from its holster on his belt.
I don't know if
he'll be able to get one free in time. I get a running start and slide at the demon, blades slicing furiously into what passes for the demon's flesh. A stinger ricochets off of my vest and I send up a small prayer of thanks. Then I'm beneath the creature, thrusting upwards with both blades. Light explodes inside the demon, like a sunburst muffled by clouds. I twist as I go, levering myself upwards. The tentacles surrounding me go limp, and my blades are pulling me over to my side with the weight of the creature.
I get to my feet, yanking my blades free as I rise. The group has come back together and I motion them to form up. I throw a look at Dham, making sure he's okay. He responds with a goofy grin and a thumbs-up from the hand not holding a bell. I turn back to the front, rolling my eyes. He's acting like what just happened is no big deal--like it happens every day. Maybe for him it does. I don't understand how he can be so nonplussed.
I set a brisk pace. We've got a farther meet point this time than the platform where I collected Dham and his companions, and I don't want us out in the tunnels for longer than we have to be. I move a bit further ahead, scouting out the upcoming tunnels. There's a charge in the air, a pressure that's building that I don't trust. Something is going on, something different. I've been racing through the Tube tunnels and abandoned stations for years now; I know when they feel off.
I fall back to the main group, blades out. I can see that the others feel it too: eyes are wide, nostrils flare to catch the faintest hint of brimstone, hands clutch blades and guns with fingers gone white with strain. We're about a quarter mile still from the meet point, but can feel the compulsion to turn around and hightail it back the way we've come.
I grit my teeth, trying to keep them from chattering. I have no idea what's going on, but everyone in the group is moving restlessly, like a corral of horses spooked by wild dogs. "Steady, all. Just keep it steady."
The smell of sulfur, so strong it's like a barge full of rotten eggs has just docked beside us, explodes out of the tunnel we need to go down. It has weight and heft, an almost physical presence, to the point where I think I can see tracers of scent in the gloom. It can either mean there are a lot of lesser demons gathered down that way or a greater demon has entered the fray. Or both.
I'm not fond of those odds.
A roar bursts forth from the mouth of the tunnel where it joins this one and darkness spews forth. "Get back," I yell as a host of lesser demons comes shambling toward us. I hear one of Dham's bells sound, the ring deep and clear, but it only stops a few in the lead. Tyler and I dispatch these with relative ease, but have to fall back as more pour in to fill their places. Dham rings his bell again, but the effect is lessened. The demons slow, but do not stop.
"Try another one," I shout, blocking a clubbing arm that almost takes Tyler's head off. I lunge forward, stabbing my blade into the thickest part of the creature, satisfied when fire lights up the inside of it. The thing disintegrates off of my blade.
"I am!" His voice sounds unsure, shaky. I spare him a glance and see he's got two bells, one in each hand and is ringing them in a complex pattern.
A scream and a tearing crunch sounds to my right. One of the guards has lost an arm. He's screaming and staggering, blood pouring out in bursts. I move to take his place; there are too many demons to try and treat the wound. He'll bleed out in minutes. I manage to shear through the demon menacing him, both blades ripping through the thing's shadowy substance, but it is only a stopgap. Before I can get closer to the injured man, black tendrils wrap around him, pulling him into a black blob waiting just outside the limits of our light.
"Why isn't it working?" I look at Dham and see his eyes are frantic. Gone is the ready smile and thumbs-up from before. He's unhooked more bells, holding two in each hand now.
"I have no idea. This isn't an exact science, you know!" His hands move up and down, sketching patterns in the air. The deep voices of the bells aren't drowning out the grunts and cries of the men as they fight. I can see one other person face down on the floor of the train tunnel, but can't tell who it is.
I'm wondering why there are so many here. I know we've been doing more forays into the tunnels and it is possible that something got wise to our movements, but we could be going anywhere. This attack has the flavor of ambush, of them knowingly lying in wait. It worries me, but I'm too busy to do more than file it away for later. If we do have a traitor in our midst, I can't do anything about it if I'm dead.
I slip forward, intending to engage a demon who appears to be made entirely of flames. I register that the flames put off no heat before I'm spinning my blades in an overhand arc, trying to split the demon in two. It throws up what might be considered appendages if I feel like being generous—which I don't—but my steel plows through them. I lunge forward, striking with my right, skewering the thing. It writhes for a moment, then dissipates in a hiss of steam.
I look around for a new target and pause. I can feel the pressure building again, that sense of fear heightening. The few demons that still surround us raise what passes for heads expectantly. A horrifying shriek echoes out of the tunnel, sounding like a baby being tortured. I clench my fists around the hilts of my blades to keep from covering my ears to blot out the awful sound.
Something is coming out of the tunnel. The smell hits me; a nauseating combination of brimstone and putrefaction. I swallow the bile that rises in my throat and keep my eyes on the creature as it moves into the light. It was a man, once, but that time has passed. Decomposition has begun on the body, flesh sloughing off in places, exposed skin going black. The eyes have sunk so far back in the sockets that they are invisible. For all that though, its movements are smooth and almost graceful.
It must be one of the more powerful demons animating the body. Whether the man had been alive when the demon took possession and it rode the body into death is anyone's guess. In most instances, a demon will leave a body once it is dead, but there are a few types that can remain long past the soul's exit or that just prefer to inhabit corpses.
"Do you have anything that will work on that?" I lean closer to Dham who is watching the possessed corpse with sick fascination.
"I think that one's above my pay grade," he whispers, eyes tracking the demon as it moves closer. The lesser demons are beginning to draw back to give the new arrival room. "Way above."
"Well, ring something," I hiss, gripping the hilts of my swords tightly. The other men with us look around nervously. I sense that they are ready to bolt, and that if we don't do something quickly, they're liable to run regardless of the mission. I have no idea if the group we're supposed to escort is even still alive after all of this.
I watch as Dham raises his hands, bells cradled in between his fingers. His arms sweep down, but the sound they make is drowned out by an even deeper tone. A shiver runs through the lesser demons gathered. The effect the sound has on the greater demon is more startling. The thing throws back its head and howls, as if it's being assaulted by the sound. It turns to run, hoping for escape down another tunnel, but another resounding knell stops it.
The demons surrounding us are watching the proceedings, and I see an opportunity. I sink my blade into the nearest one, and my actions jolt my staring companions into awareness. They respond in kind, falling upon the demons with blessed weapons. In a few moments it is just us and the corpse-wrapped demon left in the tunnel.
The sound of the bell comes again, closer now. I can see movement from the tunnel that we were supposed to follow to get to our meet point. I creep closer, but now I split my attention between what might be coming out of that tunnel and the corpse-demon.
The demon has dropped to its knees, hands braced on thighs. The noises coming from it sound more like gurgling, almost like a sink or toilet backing up, and less like someone being flayed. Shudders rip through it, dead muscles convulsing spastically. I turn away, unwilling to watch that and take another look down the corridor.
What emerges is not what I am expecting. A small girl, not much more than five feet tall
, walks into the light, holding an enormous bell in both hands. The bell looks worn and very old, not to mention extremely heavy. I wonder how someone so slight can carry it, let alone swing it. She's got long, almost white-blonde hair pulled up into a tight tail high up on the back of her head. I would say the word to best describe her is cute, except for the look of powerful determination on her face. With a look like that, cute would be an insult.
She stalks over to the demon. It is still reeling from her last ring, half-upright. She marches up to it, stopping right in front of it. When she speaks, her voice is thick with a heavy Scottish brogue. "Get gone, you foul thing." She hefts the bell and the booming ring sounds once more, and its voice will not be denied.
The corpse pitches forward on its face, writhing beneath the girl's pitiless gaze. Oily, dark blue smoke begins to ooze out of the thing's mouth, twining out in serpentine patterns. The girl glowers and rings the huge bell again, muscles in her forearms standing out in stark relief. A faint shrieking can be heard, then the smoke swirls quickly and dissolves into nothing.
"That's that, then." She sets the bell down and half-leans, half-perches her foot on it. "I take it you are my escorts?"
I nod. "Is it just you, by yourself?"
"No." She shakes her head, then calls in a loud voice chock full of derision, "Okay, boys. It's safe to come out!" She turns her attention back to me and Dham, who's come up beside me. "I'm Catriona. You can call me Cat."
"I'm Amaranth." I jerk my thumb at Dham. "He's Dham. Another Ringer."
"What are you swinging?" he asks. We both look at her curiously.
Cat stands up. I hear the sound of running feet and swing to face the tunnel, tense, with blades at the ready. She waves at me to relax. "Don't trouble yourself. It's just my bodyguards." She says the last word with such scorn that I smile. Cat turns to Dham, answering his question in a more pleasant voice. "It's a deid bell."
"A what? I've never heard of one of those." Dham leans forward, inspecting the iron work.
"That's what we call it in Scotland. It's a dead bell. We use it all the time in my village." She sighs when she sees our blank expressions. "It's rung to protect the recently dead from being possessed. But it can also drive out a spirit from a dead body. You saw me do it just a few seconds ago." She explains it to us slowly, like we're soft in the head.
Cat swings the bell back up to her chest, holstering it in some kind of harness she's got rigged there. I turn to check on the state of the rest of the group. The remaining men have dealt with those who didn't make it, destroying the bodies with fire so they can't be eaten or possessed. Two older men stumble out of the tunnel and make their unsteady way over to Cat. She ignores them and walks alongside Dham, a small smile playing along her mouth as she looks up at him.
Abruptly she turns to me. "Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to do something useful and lead us out of here? I'm starving!" Cat's voice is tinged with musical laughter. I mutter a curse and gather everyone up, then hurry after the retreating pair of Ringers.
The Iron Bells Page 9
