He took a few steps forward, his stride smooth, gliding easily on fluid joints. He moved with the grace of a predator, a killer. Strong, supple, and deadly—I liked it.
The demon pulled back his lips to reveal two rows of yellow teeth, sharp like Ginsu knives. “A problem? The two of you are an irritation. Insufferably annoying. Your deaths will profit me, grant me standing with others of my kind.”
My body shook with adrenaline, and Vargal made an ugly noise deep in his throat. The long exhalation set my insides to quiver.
“I am curious, though,” continued Vargal, and a whimper escaped the boy as the demon’s grip on him tightened. “How did you find me?”
“Google Maps,” I told him. Crap. Now the boy was way too close to the demon. If I tried to hit him with one of my spells, I might hit the kid accidentally. “If we told you, we’d have to kill you. Oh, wait. We are going to kill you.” But I wasn’t about to reveal my secret.
Vargal’s eyes moved to my bag. “A tracker spell. I give you points for ingenuity, half-breed. How you attained something of mine is a mystery, but it will no doubt reveal itself before too long. But you are a stupid witch if you think you can kill me.”
Somehow the demon could sense my amulet. It didn’t matter.
Feeling bold, I took a step forward. “I’m not going to ask you again, Vargal,” I said, waiting to see the full effect of my words. “Let the kid go.”
But then the Greater demon did something I wasn’t expecting.
He threw back his head and laughed, long and deep. “Ignorant, idiotic witch. You half-breeds should have never been created. You are but a mere representation of our weaknesses and flaws. Deficient creatures of blood and bone. You are nothing.” Then he let out a rasping giggle. “I can smell your fear, witch,” he rasped, baring his teeth. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
“Not as much as we’re going to enjoy kicking your ass,” commented Poe from above, perched on the nearest telephone wire.
My gaze darted to the boy. His cheeks were wet with tears, and his red-rimmed eyes had my pulse racing. “Okay, so I might not have been around for centuries—”
“Try millennia,” said Poe. “He smells old. Like an old Persian rug.”
“But I do know that you can’t possess this boy without him letting you in,” I continued. “And by the looks of it, I’m guessing it’s not working out like you planned. Now is it?”
Vargal narrowed his gaze. “You know nothing.”
“Says the clichéd, two-bit beast of the Netherworld,” cawed Poe as he ruffled his feathers.
I cocked a brow. “Enlighten me,” I told Vargal. “What’s this all about? What’s with this ritual? Who are you trying to summon?” I needed to distract him somehow to get to the kid. But his grip on the boy was way too tight, too close.
For the first time, the demon looked taken aback, his expression hard. His red eyes shimmered with the promise of death, but he recovered quickly. “You can’t stop this.”
“I can,” I said, willing my power in my gut. “And I will. You’ll never get the boy, so you might as well give him up now.”
Vargal growled, straightening. “I am a Greater demon of the Netherworld. Mine are the screams on the wind and the howling darkness. I am a king of the night. Shadows bend to my will. I am as unlike those mewling things you call demons as a bear is unlike a cat. You cannot hope to defeat me. Leave now or die.”
“I choose neither,” I said, my fury seeping out of me through my pores. “I choose the boy.” I was done talking. Talking wouldn’t save the boy. My legs moved of their own volition as I closed the distance between me and the Greater demon from the Netherworld. Maybe I was being stupid, thinking I could face a demon like that and win. But it would be much worse if I sat back and did nothing while he killed the boy and took his soul to the Netherworld.
I began gathering my focus for the spell. The air tightened on my skin, and I felt the hairs along the back of my neck rise as the power grew around me. I needed to get closer.
Vargal moved his fingers in a subtle, demonic charm that made my skin prickle. There was a pop of displaced air, and the night air suddenly dropped by twenty degrees. My breath escaped before me in a swirl of white mist.
“Oh, look,” called Poe. “He brought his friends.”
I turned around at the sound of nails scratching pavement. A collection of yellow eyes glowed with rage in the shadows of the parking lot. They were more apelike than humanoid, their talons grazing the earth as they advanced. Their features were twisted grotesquely to make them look like a cauliflower with a massive mouth that could fit a turkey. Their flesh was red and raw as though they were turned inside out. Some were naked while some had the remains of what looked like pants.
My heart lurched in sudden terror.
Ghouls.
16
Everything happened really fast.
One second I was about to clobber Vargal with a fireball, and the next, we were surrounded by ghouls.
By definition, ghouls were not the brightest bulbs in the Netherworld box, but they were big, mean, and wickedly strong. They were also a regular foe, springing up every week or so from some cemetery where they fed on the flesh of the dead—their preferred food source.
I could kill them, but I’d never faced that many before. That was a problem.
“Showtime,” said Logan, a dangerous gleam in his eye, as though he was looking forward to killing some ghouls.
Okay, then.
“Heads up!” Pulling on the magic from my rings, I shouted, “Feurantis!”
The energy rushed out of me, and I hurled a fireball at the nearest ghoul.
The ghoul didn’t even move or duck as the ball of fire sailed toward it. Yeah, not too bright. The fire exploded over the ghoul. The creature wailed, thrashing as the fire grew until it consumed it entirely. The fire crackled, drawing a scream of rage from the ghoul. The next second the ghoul fell to the ground in a heap of burning flesh and guts until there was nothing left of it but a pile of ash.
I wrinkled my nose at the stink of sulfur and carrion. I hated ghouls. Cemeteries were their favorite go-to locations when they escaped from the Netherworld, hosting what I liked to call all-you-can-eat dead buffets. There was something seriously disturbing about eating the flesh from dead humans long buried in a cemetery.
Movement to my left caught my attention as Logan whipped another blade from his baldric. He threw himself at the nearest ghoul, his blades up and thrashing with frightening speed. I heard hacking sounds of impact. With a downward motion, both blades sank into the ghoul’s abdomen, and then he pulled them up and out in two wide arcs. The ghoul howled as its entrails spilled from the two huge holes in its abdomen to land in a slopping mess around its feet. It opened its mouth to wail, but Logan struck out with his blades in a scissor-like motion just above its shoulders. There was a soft thud as its head fell on top of its slopped entrails.
I gave him an approving smirk. “Not bad, for an angel-born.”
“I’m just getting started, witch.” Logan beamed, and then he ducked as another ghoul came swinging at him. He rolled and bounced to his feet with the flexibility of a cat and attacked with his blades in quick succession. I would have loved to watch him fight, but if I stopped spindling my magic, I was a dead witch.
I threw my gaze back at Vargal. His disgusting face was distinct before me with preternatural clarity, his eyes indifferent. He was still standing at the exact same spot, clutching the boy against him like a prize. Oh no you don’t.
I shot toward him, spindling another spell as I pumped my legs faster. I couldn’t use fire or any spell that might hurt the boy, but I knew just the thing. Vargal was going to be pissed.
A ghoul stepped out of the shadows and I crashed right into it.
Well, my face made contact with its chest. Nasty. Never mind how gross it was to touch its sticky flesh with my own hands, like the slime of a decomposing corpse that had been lying in the sun for weeks. I had t
o physically yank my face back, and a stretch of yellow film snapped back with it. I shivered. I think I just threw up in my mouth.
No time to focus on the unsanitary nature of it all as an eight-foot ghoul stood before me. It was a big sonofabitch. It opened its mouth in a growl, chunks of rotten flesh from its previous meal still stuck between its flat, brown, and blackened teeth.
“Kill. Eat,” it said.
“Nice.” Told you they were stupid.
I tapped into my will, summoning the power from my rings.
But not fast enough.
The ghoul slammed into me with the force of a bull on steroids. I flew back and hit the hard pavement, my breath knocked out of me.
The ghoul’s head appeared above me.
I found my breath and yelled, “Vento!” and blasted him with a gust of wind.
The ghoul flew back and slammed into its companions like a bowling ball knocking down pins.
I rolled to my feet. Fiery pain raked my back and shoulder, biting deep. But there was nothing broken.
Again I looked through the wall of streaming ghouls and my breath caught. Vargal was dragging the boy away from the fight and away from the parking lot. The kid didn’t even resist. With his eyes wide, he looked like he was in some kind of trance. Shit. I’d never reach him in time. Not with the wall of ghouls that lay between me and them.
Son of a bitch.
“Poe! He’s taking the kid!” I screamed as I caught a glimpse of the raven slamming his beak into the eyes of an unsuspecting ghoul. There was a pop and the ghoul’s eyes burst in putrid, yellow liquid. Then Poe took flight again.
Poe cawed in answer. The large raven dove like an arrow toward Vargal. Then he collapsed in a flurry of ravens, fifty strong, all sharing the same intent to kill. They launched at Vargal like a deadly black cloud of feathers and claws and beaks.
It was called Splitting, the ability to replicate or split your body into many other copies, like clones if you will, and all still you, all sharing a collective mind. It was extremely rare. Only a few Malphas demons had this ability. And Poe was one of them.
The Greater demon screamed in fury, lashing out with his free arm, but the ravens were too fast, their sharp beaks perforating the demon’s flesh like knives, over and over again. It worked.
With a howl, he let go of the boy and the kid hit the ground.
Vargal roared in another language, the tones dark and guttural, probably one of the old demon languages. He slashed at them, spitting wordless growls like a rabid dog.
I gave a little laugh. Good. The Poes would keep Vargal occupied for a while until I could reach him.
“Samantha! Behind you!” came Logan’s voice.
I spun. Channeling the magic form my rings. “Feurantis!” A pulse of energy lit through me, and a ball of fire hit the oncoming ghoul right in the head. The ghoul fell to its knees, writhing and screaming madly.
I didn’t have time to see the fire’s full effect as another ghoul came at me from the right.
“Vento!” I blasted the ghoul with another gust of wind, and it slammed onto the side of a parked car. But that bought me only enough time to turn my head as two more ghouls came at me.
The ghouls let out howls of hungry glee, their talons scraping the ground as though they were sharpening them in anticipation. They came at me in a blur of limbs and claws and rotten flesh. But I was ready for them.
Magic flowed through me, intoxicating, rich, seductive. It mixed with my hatred for Vargal and my fear for the boy.
I was on fire. I was tossing out spells like a semiautomatic weapon. I wasn’t going to lose the kid, but I also knew I couldn’t keep going like this. I couldn’t keep on channeling so much power. Eventually my magic would run out. Panting, I staggered with a bit of weariness.
Straining with effort, I flung out a hand. The energy from the rings rushed through me in a ripple of warmth down my arm and to my fingers.
“Turbinis,” I shouted, willing the energy to flow.
Wind flapped at my hair as something that looked like a miniature tornado formed in front of me. It grew as it whirled, sucking in air and gaining speed and size. It hit the ghouls, scattering them into bits of meaty chunks of flesh like a giant blender. Watery, yellow liquid and black blood splattered the pavement in a slippery mess of ghoul soup.
“Ghoul smoothie,” I said. “I’m going to put that spell in my jar of favorites.”
The ghouls started forward again, a roiling mass of raw flesh and teeth and claws. I choked on the reek of rotten flesh, the sound of their strangled screams growing higher in pitch.
Air pushed at my left, and a ghoul danced in my line of sight.
Its details were obscured, the proportions slightly off, as if I was looking at a creature that hadn’t completely formed yet. Its features were warped with hollow, gaping eye sockets within a sunken, nearly skull-like face, and a wide, empty mouth that hung open as if the tendons attaching the lower jaw had stretched out like old elastic bands.
It came at me, moving with a kind of shuffling grace, as if it had no real coordination with its legs.
My heart pounded as I channeled the energy from my rings again. A tall, black shadow with gleaming blades in its hands threw itself between me and the ghoul. Logan.
The ghoul shrieked as the end of one of Logan’s soul blades pierced its skin. With a growl it struck out with inhuman speed, its talons catching Logan with a vicious blow that lifted him off his feet and hurled him against a car.
I darted forward, my adrenaline pulsing as I willed energy in, filling my aura and readying it in my head.
The ghoul threw itself at Logan just as he got back to his feet.
But I never stopped spindling the spell in my head.
I flung out my hands. “Vento!”
My blast of wind sent the ghoul spiraling in the air and out of sight across the parking lot.
“This doesn’t mean I owe you,” said Logan, his eyes meeting mine for a brief moment. He lashed out at another ghoul with his soul blades. It struck the ghoul’s rotten hide, and a yellow gash appeared, welling blood.
My mouth fell open at the nerve of this angel-born. “I just—”
Something hit me on the back of my head, and black spots marred my vision as I fell to my knees.
My anger flared as I looked at the approaching ghoul, my eyes narrowed. “Feurantis!” I flung out my hands—
And nothing happened.
Oh. Crap. My magic was spent. The rings were empty. It was one of those moments when I wished I’d prepared more magical rings.
The ghoul flung itself at me. Hot pain exploded on my shoulder as teeth sank into my flesh. I cried out, tears blurring my vision. The ghoul let go and tossed me to the ground with incredible force. Just as I landed, it hit me with a powerful kick on my side. I rolled over on my back, coughing as I tried to gulp some air.
The ghoul was on top of me in the next second. My instincts kicked in, and I threw up my hands, grabbing its face between them. My arms trembled, and my arm muscles burned as I fought to keep it from tearing out my jugular.
I gagged at the foul-smelling breath, like the smell of the city sewers on a hot summer day. My hands slipped on its wet flesh. I was faltering. I wasn’t strong enough. I tried to think of a spell, but my fear was overwhelming. I couldn’t focus. And without my rings or a sigil, I had nothing. There was nothing in my mind but the instinct of survival. I just wanted to keep the beast from killing me.
My hands slipped again, the ghoul’s teeth were inches from my cheek.
“Sam, let go,” came a voice from above.
I lurched my hands away. The ghoul atop me jerked as its head fell from its shoulders, spraying foul-smelling, yellow and black blood everywhere before it exploded into a cloud of ash.
Nasty. Worse, I’d gotten some in my mouth. I rolled over and spat out as much as I could without prompting myself to vomit. That would be embarrassing.
“You look like shit,” said Logan and ga
ve me a thin smile.
“Thanks.” My jacket, T-shirt, and face, though I couldn’t see it, were covered in the ghoul’s blood. Worse was that now the ashes were sticking to me like feathers on glue.
Logan stepped above me and stuck out his hand. “Now we’re even.”
He pulled me to my feet. Heart slamming against my rib cage, I searched the parking lot. Piles of ash, and spills of ghoulish entrails, like slimy gray ropes, scattered the ground, all that remained of the ghouls.
Vargal was gone.
And there, standing in between two parked cars with a large raven on his shoulder, was the kid.
17
“You hungry?” I asked the kid sitting across my kitchen table. “I’m no chef, but I could whip up some eggs or grilled cheese.”
The kid, whose name was Colin, had only uttered two words since we brought him to my place. He’d said, “Okay.” And then, “Colin.” I didn’t blame him. He was scared and traumatized. I knew I would be if I were in his shoes right now. Human kids didn’t belong in our world of paranormals and supernatural baddies, especially not mixed up with Greater demons.
I thought it best to keep him with me until I knew he was truly safe. There was also the possibility that Vargal had possessed the boy and was playing along just to screw with us.
But after a few demon-detecting spells, I’d gotten nothing. Also, Colin didn’t show any of the possession signs—gaunt features, a sickly, sulfur-like smell. There were dark bags under his eyes, but that was from lack of sleep and food and water. He was just a scared kid.
Colin sat in one of the kitchen chairs, his feet barely touching the floor. His face was flushed and sweaty, his hands in his lap looking like he’d rather be anywhere else than here. I pushed down my guilt. Taking him back to his parents now would only make things worse. Knowing humans, their first reaction would be to take him to a hospital, not realizing he needed another kind of healing—the supernatural kind. The kind that only witches had. From what I could tell, Vargal had pushed Colin, fed him lies and played with the kid’s head with demonic magic. He’d need to be free of any residual demon magic before he could go home.
Spells & Ashes Page 13
