80 Proof Hex_Deckland Cain 2

by D Michael Bartsch

  The creature burst out of Mr. Owen’s body, leaving a sack of raw skin lying in the circle. Dripping with blood, the skeletal creature was only three feet tall, but it lifted itself off the ground, hovering in the air. I don’t know how I know, but as I watched the darkened eye sockets, black enough to eat all light, they focused on Raphael in what I can only call hunger.

  It screamed again. Only, it wasn’t alone. I turned my head to see each of the circles was now filled with a bony munchkin. I’d never seen or heard of anything like it, and I’d been doing this for a long time.

  Thankfully, Raphael realized that I wasn’t much of a threat and took a step backward, falling into stance and scanning the area around him, noting the creatures. There was a tense moment of pause. Everything seemed to freeze as Raphael sized up the creatures and they stared at him. It was broken by Alastair.

  “Margraeshal!” He roared.

  I felt my ears pop as if the pressure inside of the circle had changed rapidly. The creatures moved instantly, crossing the barrier and flooding inside the circle at the points where they touched. Raphael roared back and brought his gladius down. The flaming sword cleaved through a horned skull, the skeleton bursting into a cloud of ash. He moved in a blur, flowing from the first cut into the second, bringing the blade up and catching another of the skeletons between the legs, cutting it in half the long way. It split into a cloud of black flakes.

  A third skeleton managed to get his back. The thing screeched, digging its bony fingers into Raphael’s armor. He reached back and grabbed hold of the creature. As he did, another one darted in, latching onto his side with blackened teeth. I watched in disbelief as its tiny fangs sank into the armor, piercing the ethereal metal.

  The last creature managed to grab onto his sword arm, dragging him forward and off balance. He bellowed, pulling the one on his back free and slamming it against the dirt. The air was filled with the sound of snapping bones. He punched the one on his sword arm. Bones shattered as his fist broke through the thing’s ribcage and came out the other side. The last one let go of his side and swarmed down, wrapping itself around his legs. Raphael pitched forward, falling to his knees.

  I watched, too stunned to do anything. Whatever these things were, they had just taken an Archangel to the ground. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

  The creature that had been slammed into the ground sat up, shattered bones reknitting themselves in little-popping noises as they as they fused together, tongues of acrid smoke coming from the places where the bones mended. The thing twisted around and threw itself at Raphael, skeletal fingers scraping across his glowing armor.

  Screaming in righteous rage, Raphael tried to push himself up, but the creature that had been holding onto his arms had somehow melted into oozing black chains that wrapped around his gauntlets, twisting between his fingers and slithering up his arms. His gladius disappeared in a puff of glowing mist as he released the hilt.

  The creature holding his legs billowed acrid smoke as it started to melt into sludge and slide up his legs, forming into more of the black chains. Wherever they touched his armor, the glow began to dim, the light being pulled into the utter darkness of the chains. The third one crawled up onto his chest and then melted, leaking out over the armor. It didn’t form chains. Instead, it formed an oozing sludge that spread across him, the armor beneath hissing and bubbling up where ever the filth touched it.

  “What devilry is this?” He asked, still struggling futilely in the dirt.

  He rolled like a man on fire, trying to clean off the thick black ooze into the dirt. It clung to him, and with his arms and legs immobilized, rolling around in the dirt was about all he could do.

  I watched; it was all I could do. With the amount of the magic pouring in from the Rift, I was riding the edge of simultaneously throwing up and having a diarrhea blow out.

  With a pop, like pressure releasing from your inner ears on an airplane, the magic was gone. The Rift above me warbled and collapsed in on itself, the dancing waves of shimmering air wafting away like smoke. I took a deep breath, feeling like a weight had been lifted from my chest. I could still feel the magic from Raphael being so close, but it was nothing compared to the Rift.

  I looked around to see what was happening and saw Alastair standing just inside the circle. He had released it’s power now that Raphael was immobilized. Maccus walked up beside him, Cat trailed behind, staring with wide eyes at the struggling Archangel.

  For his part, Raphael didn’t appear to be giving up. He was on his back, but the sludge from his chest had leaked down his sides and spread across the ground, and it held him there. He was like a bug caught in the hellish web of blood magic, blood magic like I’d never seen before.

  I’ve seen some horrifying things done with magic, but I had never seen or even heard of a spell that could be a threat to an Archangel. Raphael was one of the most fiercesome beings in the universe, able to wield the power of Creation itself.

  Whatever Alastair was in to, it was clear that I’d underestimated just how crazy and dangerous he was. White had as well if he’d sent Cat in alone and hadn’t expected something terrible to happen.

  “Welcome, our most honored guest,” Alastair said, almost in a whisper.

  My first impression was that he looked like a man who couldn’t believe that his plan had actually worked, but the more I thought about it, about the entire situation, the more I thought that he looked like a man who had crossed the line of insanity too long ago to believe he could have ever failed. No, this was a moment with so much build-up and anticipation for him that he couldn’t believe it was finally upon him, but I didn’t doubt that he’d never once worried that his plan wouldn’t work. He just didn’t seem the type.

  “Release me, you vile creature!”

  Alastair stood above Raphael, looking down with insane eyes. Maccus crouched down next to the Archangel, bending his head, closing his eyes as he did. He took a deep breath through his nose. I could hear the air rushing into his nostrils as he sniffed. He purred, rolling his head back and shivering like someone had just jerked him off. Maccus unhinged his jaw, his fanged tongue sliding out his mouth and floating through the air.

  “Not yet, Mr. Dunn. Not yet.”

  Maccus looked up at Alastair. He looked like he was going to keep going despite what the Necromancer said, but he slid his tongue back into his mouth and closed it with an audible clicking of teeth.

  “We must have patience. Long have we waited for this moment. One must not rush it.”

  Turning to Cat, Alastair took the silver chalice that she handed him. The cup was crusted in rubies that glittered in the firelight. “Tonight, my dear, we drink the blood of Angels.”

  29

  My insides turned to water. I think I may have pissed myself, but to be honest, I was too tired and numb from cold to know for sure. They were going to drink the blood of an Archangel. Alastair was a Necromancer, Cat was a triple agent thrall, and Maccus was a Vampire. Hellion blood gave Vampires strength and intelligence. I had no idea what the blood of an Angel would do to a Vampire or a Necromancer.

  “Abomination!” Raphael screamed.

  Alastair smiled. “Indeed.”

  Raphael threw himself into struggling uselessly. He rocked back and forth, straining against the sludge that held him firmly to the Earth.

  Alastair knelt in the dirt. He held the black knife in his right hand, the chalice in his left. He waved his hand over Raphael’s chest, and the sludge parted beneath. The stuff had eaten clean through the armor, leaving behind a gaping hole that showed the pale skin underneath. Alastair slid the knife across Raphael’s chest, a line of blood welling up as the tip of the blade broke the skin.

  Raphael screamed, fighting to get free. It was utterly useless though. The more he struggled, the more the blood spilled free from the cut.

  Alastair pressed the cup to Raphael’s chest, collecting the blood. A moment later, he stood. He handed the knife to Cat as he lifted the chalice up
before him, staring at the cup with wide eyes, licking his lips. Maccus was there by his side, staring hungrily at the fresh blood on Raphael’s chest.

  “Mr. Dunn, I’ll grant you the honor.”

  Alastair offered Maccus the cup. The Vampire took it, his jaw unhinging, tongue sliding out. The muscles in his tongue pulsated as he drank the blood. When he finished, he continued to lick the inside of the cup like it had been the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. I could almost imagine the sound of a straw slurping up more air the liquid when you reach the end of your drink.

  “How do you feel?” Alastair asked, taking back the cup.

  Maccus shivered, looking up at the sky. Dark blood spilled down his lips and chin when he slid his tongue back into his mouth. He took in a deep breath through his nose, I could hear the air hissing through his nostrils again as if he was sniffing the whole planet. He opened his eyes and looked at Alastair. The pale blue iris’s had been replaced. They were solid black within black. No white left anywhere that I could see.

  “Invincible.” He said, shivering.

  That wasn’t exactly what I’d wanted to hear.

  “Abomination!” Raphael screamed.

  Cat cackled and kicked Raphael in the side of the head. “Quiet!”

  Maccus flexed his hands, closing them into fists several times. Alastair placed a hand on Maccus’s back.

  “You are free, brother. Never again shall you be a slave, living in fear of losing yourself. From now on, your power is eternal.”

  “No way,” I said.

  No one looked at me. They’d basically forgotten I was there. Of course, considering they were paying attention to Raphael and drinking his blood, I suppose it was a bit of a blessing.

  “Now, it’s time,” Alastair said.

  He handed the chalice back to Cat and knelt beside Raphael. He was about to kill an Archangel, and while I thought Raphael was a giant asshole, I knew that Alastair was worse. I needed to buy some time.

  “That’s what this was all about?” I asked, raising my voice to be noticed. “All of this so that Maccus wouldn’t have to hunt down Hellions anymore.”

  Alastair looked my way.

  “Mr. Cain. You are about to witness the rise of a new era. For too long we have cowered before these creatures, Angel and Demon. They are opposite sides of the same coin, and we have been nothing but scum before them. When they gaze upon us, they see only our souls. Not the beauty and absolute power of the soul, but currency. Our entire existence is a game to them, and since the time before time, they have squabbled to control us, to own us.

  “Tonight is the night that we say no longer. Tonight we take the power for ourselves, and there is nothing any Angel or Demon can do. We shall make ourselves something more than human, and with that power, we shall rule this world. Not in the name of some ancient Father or his prodigal son. We have weighed them, measured them, and in the end, decided that it is us that shall control our destiny. We shall become the masters of our reality and Angels and Demons will but play us. Bear witness and see. Tonight is the night that Fate dies.”

  He went back about his business then.

  If I hadn’t been so damn scared and tired, I might have rolled my eyes. He was talking the worst kind of crazy, the kind that actually can make good on its lunatic promises. I had to think, fast. I was chained to the ground, and even if I wasn’t, I was too weak to do much more than stand. Even that was iffy.

  I looked around me. I was still naked and still in the cold mud. I stopped, looking down at the layer of clumpy wet dirt. The mud was mixed with my blood. My blood could absorb and negate magic to the point that it could rip a hole in reality. Reaching out a trembling hand, I clawed at the ground. It was cold enough that it was starting to freeze, but it wasn’t completely frozen. I scraped away a handful. I closed my fist and compacted it, like squeezing a handful of cold, gritty, cookie dough.

  It could work. It had to work. If it didn’t, we were all screwed.

  Getting on all fours, I started pulling more mud into my clump. I glanced over. No one was paying attention to me. Cat was walking back into the circle. I hadn’t seen her leave, but she was carrying what looked like two silver hula hoops. They reflected the firelight, and I had a feeling they were the real deal, not some sort of spray-painted nonsense. She handed one of them to Alastair. He placed it gently in the dirt, pressing down as he did to push it into the loose soil.

  Whatever he was doing, it was a ritual that required another circle. That meant time to set it up. That meant time to try something desperate before he did something that made him more powerful than anything I cared to imagine.

  I pulled up enough mud to make a softball-sized clod of tightly packed dirt. I looked back over. Maccus and Alastair had lifted Raphael to his feet. The black sludge kept him planted to the ground, and the black chains wrapped around him like an oily belt that pinned his arms. He tried to twist and turn, but Maccus held him firm, his hands clamped onto Raphael’s arms. The cut on Raphael’s chest cracked open, and fresh trickles of blood ran down his stomach in tiny rivulets of life.

  Alastair stepped back and nodded to Maccus. The Vampire released Raphael and Cat dropped the second silver circle over his head. It rang out in a metallic chime as it bounced off the ground in a puff of dust. Maccus reached back in and held Raphael as Alastair knelt down to adjust the circle, pressing it into the dirt. He nodded again, and Maccus stepped back.

  Alastair’s voice rang out in a harsh Hellion. “Ragraeshal.”

  I felt the prickle of magic just as Raphael bent forward, his eyes wide as he practically foamed at the mouth. The rabid Angel bounced off the invisible wall as the circle snapped closed. He leaned backward, unable to fall over as he collided with the wall of the ring behind him.

  Alastair laughed. “Plenty of fight left. That’s good. We shall use that strength to our benefit.”

  Maccus and Cat both smiled, like the three of them had all just shared a great inside joke. Crazy bastards.

  Alastair stepped into his circle. “Ragraeshal.” I felt another puff of magic in the air. He’d sealed himself into the circle. “My Dear, you may begin.” He said.

  Cat knelt down. She used the knife to cut into the dirt, drawing sigils on the ground. Once she was done, I had no way of knowing how long it would take to complete the ritual. It was now or never.

  Clenching my jaw until I felt like my teeth would crack under the strain, I got up onto my right knee. I used my free hand to push off my knee, standing. I let out a moan of pain that wasn’t precisely badass, but hey, I was doing my best.

  “Hey, asshole,” I said, weaker than I would have liked. “I’m not done with you yet.”

  Three heads turned my way. Maccus smiled broadly, taking a step forward. Cat looked like she couldn’t believe that I had gotten back to my feet. Alastair’s face was the best. He seemed more annoyed than anything else like I was a gnat that kept buzzing around his face, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t manage to swat me away.

  I took a step forward, felt my legs start to give out, and I thought better of it. I locked my knees. I only had one chance, and I wasn’t going to be standing long enough to worry about passing out.

  “Mr. Dunn, would you kindly kill, Mr. Cain. He has served his purpose in this endeavor and insists on delaying the inevitable.”

  “Gladly.”

  That was my moment. As Maccus swaggered toward me, his boots scraping in the dirt, I cocked my arm and hurled the mud clod. I turned at the waist, screaming through the pain as I did. The throw took me off balance, and I went down to my knees, feeling dirt bite into my skin.

  The clod sailed past Maccus, most of it missing his face by a foot at least. It started to break apart as soon as it left my fist. A few specks of dirt rained against his jacket. He looked down, brushing them off.

  “Mud?” He asked. “My, you must have lost more blood than I thought. Surely you didn’t think to stop our plans with a wee bit o’ mud?” He turned
to look at Alastair and Cat, laughing. “Dumb bastard ain’t ‘e?”

  “No,” I said. “But if I’m going to Hell then you’re coming with me you son of a bitch.”

  Maccus unhinged his jaw, his tongue slithering out of his mouth. I could see the muscles in his throat moving as the three-foot long tongue slid out, lolling in the air. As he walked, his hands elongated, fingers stretching out into black talons with popping noises. The transformation was smooth, controlled, and despite it, his eyes never lost the dangerous glint of someone skating on the brink of sanity.

  He stalked over, sniffing the air and flicking his tongue. He never made it over to me. Cat’s scream broke the silence. “NO!”

  Maccus turned back. Cat was standing a few feet from Alastair’s circle, and she was pointing at Raphael.

  The black sludge and chains around his feet and arms had started smoking, thick plumes of oily black smoke trailed from the stuff. I smiled, feeling a smug satisfaction. The mud I’d thrown had missed Maccus, but it had hit Raphael.

  My blood had broken the invisible boundary of the circle, moving through it as if it had never existed. It had hit Raphael in the side of the head and exploded into a shower of bloody mud. Bits of it had landed in the sludge, and everywhere the mud touched, tendrils of smoke were wafting off the bonds holding him. The sludge had dried into a thick crust, and cracks of golden light were starting to crisscross the blackness like lightning bolts.

  Raphael’s skin started to glow as energy coursed through him. His eyes burst into the gold within gold of Angelic power as he roared and flexed against the bonds. The black chains and dried sludge shattered into bits of dark glass.

  I felt satisfaction in a way that I could not explain at that moment. “Time to die, you Irish prick.”

  Maccus screeched and rushed Raphael. He moved faster than anything I’d ever seen before, blurring across the ground and leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. Raphael countered, sliding out of the way, almost lazily, as Maccus swung a clawed hand at him. He lashed out again. Raphael sidestepped, and as Maccus moved past him, he leaned in and used the Vampire’s momentum against it. He swung a gauntleted hand, the fist catching Maccus in the head.