Urakael’s control had grown too strong to fight, its consciousness too vast. Exhausted, Matt finally succumbed, allowing the being to take him.
They are one.
He felt the bond, the love for each of his one-hundred-nineteen children. The souls he touched, their hands wielding him as a sword then pistol. He knew their names. Mourned their passing. The illusion of time warps and cracks. He knows everything. The origin. The pact. The betrayal.
The blood pulls him again. Urakael turns, seeing a crimson strutter and a pair of familiars, their golden eyes peering beneath their black hoods. Short knives glisten in the familiars’ hands. Steel poses no threat to his body.
The strutter’s enormous tongue slithers out from behind its fangs and peels open, its nest of pink tentacles bursting out. The greasy strands wrap around him, their toxin burns, though not as horrific as before. Gritting his teeth, Urakael doesn’t pull away. He thrusts his arm deeper into the writhing mass. He loops his arm around the tendrils then yanks. Strands rip and pop like piano wires. The demon lurches forward. Urakael wrenches the tendrils again, harder. The sound of tearing meat and then the tongue rips free from the strutter’s throat. The demon staggers, the remaining few of its unbroken tendrils flailing wildly. Urakael throws the severed tongue aside and lunges. He drives his thumbs through the strutter’s golden eyes and pulls outward. Bone rips as the creature’s skull splits apart. The two familiars freeze, their enslaved souls released. Purple and orange flames coat his skin, healing the poisoned wounds.
Tiamat’s enormous form rises up from behind her wall of followers, long and snake-like. Her skin glistens like beaten brass. Hundreds of squirming eels run the length of her back like wind-swept hair. Their pale noseless faces are all Anya’s. Their black eyes all look at him, though Tiamat’s remain closed.
A gun blasts behind him. Turning, he sees the child Malcolm free of his cuffs, firing into the cultists as he and the others charge for Urakael’s brethren. Allan is the first to reach them. He takes Zhygan, Ibenus’s true name, from the anvil and swings, instantly teleporting behind a blonde vampire and decapitating it with one stroke.
Many of the Legion seem unsure, hesitation in their eyes. Fear.
Luc snatches Velnepo from the ground. He strikes a wendigo with the mace. The blow knocks the demon’s corpse away like a child’s toy.
A dark glimmer shoots toward Malcolm, a rakshasa, its form invisible to human eyes. Urakael leaps toward it, cresting fifteen feet in the air. Malcolm spins to face him, unable to see the closing demon. Buckshot rips through Urakael’s chest.
Raising his claws high, Urakael slashes down as he lands. Invisible flesh tears open. The demon takes form. A black shape, its eyes and mouth empty wells of nothingness. The demon blurs, then splits into two, four identical fiends.
They close.
Urakael swipes at one, but his hand passes through the illusion. Cold claws rip into his back, tearing muscle and tendons. Serrated teeth bite into his neck.
Screaming, Urakael reaches behind, blindly catching the frenzied rakshasa by the back of its head. Flailing claws slice him as he wrenches the demon up and over, flipping it onto the ground. Urakael punches down, crushing the rakshasa’s head. Stygian fire spreads across the corpse. He scoops black flames to his lips. Sweet intoxication. His bleeding wounds mend. He rises.
Malcolm stands before him. His warding palm is open, though still at his side, ready to be raised. “Matt?”
Urakael nods to Hounacier and Khirzoor still lying beside the broken plank. Pieces of his own smashed vessel litter the ground beside them. A guttural voice resonates from Urakael’s chest. “Save them.”
Ten demon corpses lie burning on the ground. Using the flickering shadows of a dead vampire’s light, Luiza cleaves off a werewolf’s legs.
Urakael turns to the remaining Legion. They stink of fear. They were always cowards. Dozens of black-robed humans flee, those whose souls had been freed or whose fear of mortality outweighed faith.
Tiamat watches him through slitted eyes. The wife of his father, though herself not a god. The betrayer made flesh, made mortal. Her death will give him absolution.
He rushes toward her. A pair of glowing-eyed hellhounds race to meet him. One leaps, jaws open. Deflecting the beast with a forearm, Urakael spins to the side. The other hound crashes into him, knocking Urakael to the ground.
He lands on his back, the demon pressing on top of him. Snarling, it snaps its jaws just above his face. Urakael brings a knee up, wedging it between himself and the hound and kicks. The beast flips up above his head. Urakael rolls to his feet just as the other hound comes at him again. It springs, sinking its fangs into his arm. It shakes its head, tearing the flesh.
Howling in pain, he grabs the black hound behind its skull and drives his claws in. Vertebrae snap and crunch. Blue fire erupts from the wounds, but the beast’s jaws refuse to open. Urakael rips the animal free, tearing the meat from his arm. The power of the dead demon’s soul heals him quickly.
Blood pulls him from behind. Urakael wheels around in time to catch the other hellhound flying toward him. He chomps into the demon’s spine, tasting the sweet fire explode into his mouth. He tears a piece free and swallows it, bone and all, then hurls the burning corpse at a rushing vampire.
He turns to face Tiamat, murderer of his father. The demon mother has taken flight, her serpentine form undulating through the air. Coward.
Nearly twenty demons burn in the courtyard. His brethren’s children move as a circle, cutting their way through the yard. A ring of bound corpses lies in the center, their bodies dissolved below the ribs. The blood moon above still glows red. As long as it does, the ring holds power. Not all is lost, but he must act soon.
Their mother gone, the Legion begins to flee. A white-haired succubus flies off on leather wings. A trio of ghouls clamors over the castle’s wall like cockroaches. Urakael spies a werewolf lying in the corner, its feral features melting away as the demon moves to another body on this world. The child Allan appears beside it and splits the fiend open before the transference completes.
Urakael approaches the children. A robed man with a knife charges. Urakael kills him with a backhand. Luiza is the first to see him near. Four bleeding gashes run down her arm. Luiza’s eyes narrow with fear, fear of what he has become. The others notice him as well.
“Go,” Urakael says. “Tiamat will return. My brethren must survive.”
“Who?” Luc asks. Blood oozes from a cut in his thigh.
Red tinges the mace’s glow. Anger. Animosity. He is the betrayer. They don’t trust him, neither do their children.
“The weapons,” Urakael says. “You must take them from here before she returns.”
“Matt?” Luiza asks. “Is it you?”
“He is with me.”
“Wha... who are you?” she asks.
Urakael looks at the sky. The eclipse nears completion. “I am Urakael.” The Fallen. He meets her gaze. “You called me Dämoren.”
Her eyes widen. “How?”
“Go. Now.” Urakael turns back toward the ring. Though weak, it still pulses with Icthwyn’s power. She is still bound to it. He remembers his father. How could he have loved such a creature? Urakael steps over black-robed bodies. Would his father have loved them as well? Was it wrong that he did not? His father was virtuous. Hatred was no virtue. Tonight Urakael’s hatred would die, either with Icthwyn or with himself.
He stops at the edge of the ring. It stinks of death.
“Mother!” he cries to the moon in the First Tongue, the language spoken at Creation. “I call you, Icthwyn. I invoke your name. Come. Come before me. I, Urakael, Seventeenth Son of Dythn, challenge you. Face me!”
Faint light swirls within the ring.
He looks about. The children have left. “Icthwyn, come before me! Icthwyn, face me!”
His consciousness barely intact, Matt remembered Kazuo’s words.
“When the laws of the universe are called and
powers are invoked or bound by their true names, waves are felt everywhere. That’s when prophecies come true. All worlds feel the ripples.”
All worlds.
“Icthwyn!” Urakael screams. “I call you!”
The swirling colors surge and spin, consuming the last of the ring’s power. A howling wail shrieks down from the heavens as Tiamat flies down toward him, connected to the circle by an almost invisible thread of light.
The earth shudders as she lands. Lips curl from ivory fangs.
“Urakael,” the eels utter as one.
He attacks.
She darts to the side, smearing corpses beneath her. Claws splayed, Urakael wheels around to face her. Tiamat swipes a scythe-like talon. He ducks. They whoosh over him, nearly taking his head. Seizing the opening he springs. His claws rake across her wide ventral scales, but they are too hard.
Tiamat lashes to the side, knocking Urakael to the ground. Her reared head shoots down, jaws open. He rolls away as the demon mother snaps. She strikes again, but Urakael jumps out of her path.
He leaps, digging his claws into the flesh behind her forearm. The tiny scales of her shark-like skin peel open, chipping his claws as he tears into her.
Roaring, she buckles and thrashes, trying to knock him free. Urakael holds tight, his toes and left hand dug deep. He slashes her again. Tiamat’s serpentine head strikes. Urakael springs out of the way and lands in a crouch.
The agile demon whips around and attacks. He barely escapes, her talons ripping through the flagstones behind him. He leaps for her tail and digs in. He needs to weaken her. Slow her down.
The human-faced eels along her back hiss and strike. One bites his calf. Its long fangs pierce deep, striking bone. Poison burns his veins.
He howls. The venom is quick. It cuts through his veins like broken glass.
He swipes, severing the rubbery eel’s neck, then falls, crashing into the hard stone.
Tiamat rears above him. The headless eel along her back detaches and drops to the ground with a wet thud. The hole it occupied closes and a new maggot-sized worm sprouts.
Urakael tries to stand, but falls. Dark blood seeps out from around the claws in his poisoned leg.
The demon mother’s thin lips twist into a smile. “Did you really think you could best me?” the eels ask.
He meets her cold gaze.
One of the longer eels slithers out from her neck and flies off into the night.
Tiamat ignores the pale hatchling. “Pathetic.” Her jaws open, wide enough to swallow Urakael whole. She strikes.
Urakael leaps away. His father had blessed all his children with a gift. Few understood his. He can’t teleport, or attack shadows. He can’t wield fire or ice. Father gave him fortitude. The blessing that allowed him to survive being broken as a sword, allowed him to inhabit a pistol, its bullets, pieces of him, constantly replenished. The blessing enables him to survive a toxin that would have slain most of his kin.
Tiamat’s diving maw strikes the empty ground. Stone buckles. He springs onto her snout, safely away from the writhing eels. He slashes through one of her giant eyes, shredding it like pudding.
She screams, lashing her head like a whip. Blood and ooze slings through the air. Urakael holds tight. He tries to blind the other eye. His weakened toe claws break under the strain, ripping free. She snaps her head to the side, sending Urakael flying into the castle’s wall.
He falls to the ground, beside the body of a dead cultist.
The shrieking demon continues to thrash. Black blood pours from beneath her closed eyelid. Three more eels wriggle free and escape.
Urakael stumbles to his feet. His injured leg wobbles beneath him. Blood runs from the empty sockets at his toes. Dark pinheads begin seeping around the claws at his hands. He tastes it in his mouth. One fang begins to loosen.
With a roar she charges, slithering across the yard like a rampaging train, her taloned hands raised. Favoring his left leg, Urakael springs and rolls out of the way. He swipes at the passing demon, but hits her hard belly scales. Tiamat’s long tail wraps to the side, boxing him in. The ring of eels along her back leer down at him. He’s too weak to safely jump them.
The demon’s one eye glares hatefully down at him. Her jaws open.
An engine roars and a green, flat-faced bus bursts through the castle’s gate. Tiamat and her eels turn to face the newcomer. Seizing the opening, Urakael, hobbles and leaps over the tail, taking one of the brood out with a passing swipe. He staggers away, leaving bloody footprints in his wake.
Brilliant light shoots from the bus’s lamps. Tiamat’s pupil shrinks to a narrow slit.
Allan and Luiza race through the open gate door and cut to either side around the yard. Luc and Malcolm step out from the bus.
Tiamat grins wickedly, she strikes at Allan. The child swings Ibenus and teleports out of the demon’s path. He brings the sword up, slicing her behind the jaw. She rears high, blood staining her long neck. Another eel detaches and wriggles away.
“I told you to go,” Urakael says to Allan.
“We did,” the child replies, his eyes on the swaying demon. “We’re back.”
Tiamat’s jaws shoot down at them. Urakael rolls away. Allan blinks to the side, but the demon lashes her head, knocking him to the ground. She snaps at the fallen human, but Urakael leaps onto her neck and bites through the rough skin.
She whips her head, but Urakael holds tight, ripping a mouthful free. She swipes a talon, splitting his side open and knocks him loose. He hits the ground with a thump. Two of his claws are gone, still lodged into the demon’s neck.
Malcolm races past, Hounacier high. Tiamat raises a talon to strike him, but a long slice opens along her back, severing four of the eels. She bellows in pain. Another opens, showing white bone beneath. The child Luiza stands against the far side of the yard, hacking at the great shadow cast by the bus’s light. She stabs, driving Ausva into the darkness, then pulls it out and to the side.
Tiamat wheels about to face her. Luiza opens a three-foot gash along her belly. The monstrous demon flounders. Luiza swipes again, but Tiamat moves her shadow out of the blade’s path. She turns back to the bus. She starts toward it, but Malcolm steps in and hacks Hounacier into her side. Luc and Allan close in. Allan chops deep into Tiamat’s flesh. Luc bashes her with Velnepo, sending a visible shockwave through her body.
She falls.
Limping, Urakael runs and jumps onto the back of Tiamat’s head. More weakened claws crack and break free but he holds tight. He bites deep into the base of her skull. Blood explodes into his mouth and Urakael rips in deeper, tearing through bony scales.
Tiamat wails, trying to rise, but Luc, Allan, and Malcolm, tear into her. Three pale eels wriggle free to escape, but Luiza hacks their shadows, and the spawn fall writhing to the ground, encased in amber flame.
Urakael, rips a scale plate free from Tiamat’s neck. He spits it out and punches down into the exposed bone. It cracks and gives way. He drives his arm deeper into her skull, plunging through the fibrous sludge. He twists his remaining claws.
Tiamat’s body seizes, then collapses, nearly crushing the child Luc. Power surges and swirls around Urakael’s arm. He pulls it free, unleashing a geyser of gold and silver fire. Flames erupt from her other wounds, quickly spreading over the slain demon’s body. They wash over Urakael, straddling her neck. He licks the fiery blood from his hands, tasting power unlike anything he’s ever fathomed.
The burning poison in his veins subsides and his wounds mend.
Absolution. Revenge. He has won.
Urakael closes his eyes, savoring the victory, then releases his control on the child Spencer.
#
Matt slumped, his strange body numb. Brilliant demon fire burned all around him. He slid, then fell off the great demon’s corpse.
He watched his hands, coated in flaming blood, shrink down to human size. The glinting claws retracted and smoothed out into his normal fingernails. Bones and ligaments
popped and shifted. Shadows invaded the dark recesses of the courtyard and colors dimmed as the dusty window of humanity fell back into place.
“Matt!” Allan ran toward him. Tiamat’s fiery blood blazed along Ibenus’s blade.
Matt scrunched his eyes, trying to force himself to sit up. His cheeks were wet. Tears.
Hands rolled him onto his back. He opened his eyes. Luc and Allan crouched above him.
“Is he okay?” Malcolm yelled pushing his way between them.
“Matt?” Allan repeated. “Matt, are you all right?”
Matt blinked at them. Their halos of color were gone.
Footsteps raced across the yard toward them. Matt rolled his head to see Luiza, Akumanokira in her hand. Ausva. Its true name was Ausva.
“Matt?” Luc said. “Say something.”
Matt’s lips quivered. The memory of Tiamat’s taste still on his tongue. “I...I’m fine.” He glanced up at the moon. A white sliver shone at the edge. The redness faded. Had it only been just a few minutes? He’d seen lifetimes, eons. Memories like an endless ocean. He could spend the rest of his life exploring their—
His eyes widened. The memories were vanishing, receding as quickly as they’d come. “No!”
“What?” Allan asked.
Matt shook his head, trying to form the words. “I need you to listen to me. I know everything. The origin, where they come from.”
The Englishman’s brow creased.
“Remember saying you couldn’t understand why someone would want to be possessed?”
Allan nodded.
“Then listen. Help me remember before I forget.”
Reaching them, Luiza dropped to her knees taking Matt’s head into her hands. “Are you all right?”
Damoren Page 31
