The sword missed me by a millimeter, sinking into the limo by my shoulder like it was made of paper. I blinked. I hadn’t even seen him move. He had freaking hurled it at me. Then he was charging me again, on all fours this time. I could see his skull through the dying skin on his face as it peeled back at the force of his speed. I jumped to the left just as he swiped at me, and unleashed a blast of white-hot fire directly onto his back. He roared in pain and swatted me onto the ground where I bounced, once, twice, and then struck another nearby parked car. I lay there, suddenly noticing the power I had been throwing around. It was a lot. As I delved into my reservoir, I noticed that it was significantly lower than it should be. I gulped. That wasn’t good. I touched my head, noticed I was bleeding, and looked up to see the Demon slowly walking towards me with a grin. Then he hesitated, a new thought crossing his ugly melted face as he studied me on the ground.
“As much pleasure as I would get from skinning you, I believe I could cause you more agony by doing something else. I sense that your power is dwindling, but that you would use it all against me if necessary. Instead, I will allow you to live, and to keep what remains of your draining power. You will need it to choose who lives and who dies.”
I blinked at him, confused. “Pardon?”
The Demon smiled through his scalded face. “Every day you delay in giving my brethren what they seek, I shall murder one of your fellow wizardlings.”
I stared at him. Wizardlings. That was ancient terminology. It didn’t mean wizards, it meant any number of magical creatures: wizards, werewolves, fairies, witches, and vampires. “What do you mean?”
“Every day you delay in giving me or my offspring the Key, I will arrange for one of your fellow supernaturals to be murdered in a very public way. I’ve enjoyed my jaunt into your realm, but I tire of servitude. Give me the Key and we both walk away happy, with less death on your shoulders, and less annoyance on mine.”
I knew this was a tricky situation. Even if I wanted to save their lives, I couldn’t give up the Key to the Armory… my blood. I literally couldn’t. Then who would stand up to the summoner? No one would even know who he was with me dead. If I survived, others would think that I simply gave up the Key like a coward. The Angels would be after me. The Academy would be after me. Or if I were already dead, my friends would pay. They would shun my name to the entire magical world, and I would become the most hated being ever to walk the earth, depending on who wanted the Key and what they were intending to do with it. My guess was that if the summoner was using Demons to get it he didn’t have noble intentions.
“Give me the Key to the Armory so I can give it to my master and be done with my servitude. I’ll even let you live, wizard. No one needs die, and I will cast my Demons back to Hell. Win, win.”
His offer chilled me. But I just couldn’t give him the Key. Even if I wanted to. I was kind of… attached to it. I briefly remembered Hope’s warning about Death being the ultimate answer and shivered. After a deep breath, I nodded, feeling something in my pocket that I had stashed away earlier. “On one condition. You tell me who murdered my parents.”
The Demon watched me curiously before nodding with a menacing smile. “Deal.” I pulled the small object out of my pocket, looked at it once in defeat, and then tossed it to him. His eyes gleamed as he snatched it from the air. He began to examine the music box that Peter had stolen from the Armory. I had tried everything, testing it every way I could think, but had yet to find anything dangerous or powerful about it. It was simply a music box.
But the Demon didn’t know that, and he seemed particularly aloof to the ways of my world, not even knowing what a cell phone was.
“I killed your parents.”
Time seemed to slow, then stop entirely.
My vision turned red and my blood instantly boiled, making me feel like an inferno of fire, as if someone had just lit a fuse deep in my soul. My parents’ murderer stood before me, and I was ready to burn away the last of my remaining strength to incinerate him so ultimately that even his cellmates in Hell would never recognize him.
He watched my impotent rage with an amused smile. “They stood between me and the Armory. Of course, back then there was no Key. But I knew they would prevent me from entering so I eliminated them. Then that thief snuck in while I was entertaining your parents, locking the entrance from me. Since then the room has been guarded by a Key. It all could have been so simple if it wasn’t for him.” He growled with minor frustration. Then he smiled at me. “But you know that already. If not for him, your parents may still be alive. Shame. He was your best friend after all. If that’s what you do to your friends, I’d love to see what you do to your enemies.” His fangs glittered in the moonlight. I could only see red. This was my parents’ murderer. Right here. In front of me.
And I couldn’t do a goddamned thing. I was tapped, magically speaking. If I fought this Demon here I wouldn’t have enough juice for the summoner, and he was the real problem.
He watched me trembling with rage. “Easy, wizard. You might use up the last of your strength. Then who would save your friends? Now that I have the Key, we will depart this plane.” He fidgeted with the box, and then frowned at it. He held it up to his ear. Scowling, he opened it to the effect of a tinny version of “You are my sunshine,” filling the street. He roared in anger, throwing it on the ground. “What trickery is this? You thought you could fool me?”
I smiled. “Well, technically I did just fool you. Don’t be offended. I do it to everyone.”
The Demon moved. And when I say moved, I mean faster than even I could clearly see. He raised his arm, a nebulous dark ball of energy coursing around his fist. Then it came screaming at me. I raised my trembling arms to block it, but it bypassed my defenses easily, and a burning sensation struck me in the forehead like he had thrown a well aimed, scalding rock. It instantly seared my skin like a brand. I found myself on the ground, staring up at the starry night. It had begun to snow, looking like the very stars were falling all around me.
Like Fallen Angels cast down from Heaven
I didn’t know how long I lay there, but it must have been only seconds, as I heard the Demon step up to me with a curious respect in his eyes.
“You shouldn’t have tried to trick me. You have now been marked. The Angels will see you as an agent of hell. Even their sons will hunt you, and the Armory will be lost to everyone, for they will raze it, and possibly your entire city, to the ground. Also, my previous offer of your brethren dying upon each denied offer of the Key still stands. Each night you delay, we will murder a member of a different supernatural caste. Since you seem to care for the werewolves so much, we will begin with them. One will die before sunrise unless you give me what I seek.”
I briefly wondered how many of his brethren were enjoying their stay in my city. How many I needed to fight to protect my people. Sir Dreadsalot took a step closer, leaning so that I could see his scarred, melted face more clearly. “I do applaud you on your trickery and that lucky strike though. Never seen anything like it. Do you make a habit of discovering new spells? Most wizards repeat the same old same old. Boring. But you, you’re… fun.” He seemed genuinely appreciative. “Don’t waste it here. Save it for our next encounter. I love anticipation. Foreplay. Mmmm… Just imagine how much fun the werewolf will have tonight.”
My soul hurt. I was basically condemning an innocent werewolf to die. For some reason, all I could imagine was someone killing a puppy. No matter how badass the werewolf was, I had just had my ass handed to me by this thing. No way would a werewolf fare any better. I shook my head. I couldn’t pass the Key over to them. If I did, the Academy would kill me. Literally. If I didn’t, the wolf would die. I had to find a way out of this before things got too out of hand. I suddenly was very happy my friends were all out of town. There was no way they could defend themselves from this thing, and no way I could watch over them all while trying to figure out what to do about it.
The Demon smiled. “Thank
you for the dinner. I love me some… puppy chow. Is that the right phrase?” He asked with a horrifying grin. “When you come to your senses and realize the forces against you and are ready to discuss terms, ignite the Thirteenth Major Arcana in a confessional booth.” My breath momentarily caught at his comment, but he continued. “Or when you are entirely out of options and tired of being hunted by the Nephilim. They exist to destroy agents of Hell, which you now appear to be.” My blood chilled. The Fallen Angels had their minions — the Demons, whereas the Angels also had theirs — the Nephilim, the offspring of Angels and humans. Practically superheroes if the rumors I had heard were correct. But I had yet to meet a person who had actually encountered one. I was almost 100% sure I had met an entire gang of them in the bar with Eae and Hemmingway. “Both sides will now be hunting you. It’s delicious, really. Check, as they say Master Temple. Your Move.” He turned to go, but slowed. “Unless, of course, you are ready to make a deal now… I specialize in these transactions, and a deal from one with your reputation would benefit both of us… I could eliminate your curse and give you new powers to make up for what you already lost…”
“Not a chance in hell, Sir Dreadsalot.”
He shook his head in disappointment. “Don’t be so sure, mortal.” I fumed, stumbling back to my feet. My legs wobbled and I fell back against the car. The Demon watched me pitilessly. “I would love to destroy you myself, but in your weakened state it would feel like a cheap victory. Perhaps some other time when you have full use of your power. I honestly don’t see why you fight me so. Your own people have injured you, made you practically defenseless, yet you fight out of some mistaken creed on the side of those who have shunned you. Even Demons have honor. Some of us anyway.” He turned to walk away.
“What did my parents discover that warranted their deaths?”
He turned to face me. “That is none of your or my concern. Like I said, if not for Peter…” He winked.
Forget Peter. I knew the Demon would have killed them regardless of the poor timing on Peter’s part. The summoner. He was the real problem. I had to get to him. Also, I had to now watch out for the Angels’ minions, the Nephilim…
He noticed my growing anger. “Like I said earlier. Easy, wizard. You might use up the last of your strength. Then who would save your friends? Who would save your friend over there?” He grinned darkly over my shoulder behind the limo. Then noticed she wasn’t there, and frowned.
“Hey, pussycat!” Othello called from across the street behind a trashcan. The Demon whirled, directly into an attack that even I hadn’t expected. She shot something at the Demon, which he lifted his meaty paw to block. But whatever she shot at him stuck fast to his elbow. She shrugged. “That will have to do.” I heard a click, and the next thing I knew the Demon was on the ground screaming as a thousand nanobots destroyed his arm from the elbow down, eating absolutely everything before falling to the ground lifeless. His roar shook the windows, shattering several, before he disappeared in a cloud of smoke and ash.
I stared at Othello in awe. “That was… incredible.” She smiled weakly. “But you just made a very big, bad enemy. What were you thinking?” I demanded.
“You’re either a meal or a monster in this world. I prefer to be a monster, or to at least have others think I am. It’s safer.” She helped me up, supporting my shoulder, glancing pointedly at my forehead before brushing my hair to cover it up with a shiver. I didn’t care at the moment. I would check it in the mirror later. I had more pressing concerns at the moment. We glanced at the limo and stopped, staring sadly at it and the remains of its lone occupant. I studied our surroundings, shocked to realize that none of this had attracted any attention. We were in a commercial district of some kind, but apparently there was no business that operated after traditional work hours. Lucky for us. I was after all a kidnapping victim.
“What the hell was he talking about at the end? Ignite the Thirteenth Major something. That sounds… ominous.” I nodded, but didn’t explain.
She studied me, waiting, but realizing I wasn’t going to explain, she chose a different question. “What about the Nephilim? What are they? You looked concerned.”
“Let’s get somewhere safe first. Then I’ll tell you all about it.”
Chapter 17
W e continued to assess the car in respectful silence, Othello nodding her head in agreement that it was time to leave. The driver was obviously dead, having had no time to defend himself as he had been the first to be attacked. The side that wasn’t slammed up against the building was covered in a mix of both a little of my blood and a lot of the drivers blood. Then of course, there was his headless corpse in the seat, and his severed head on the hood. I shivered, glad that it wasn’t facing me. I glanced down at my side curiously, noticing a few shallow, but bloody gashes down my ribs. I had forgotten about them while being slammed into walls and such by the Demon. They weren’t fatal.
“He might be on surveillance with us breaking you out of jail. This car will definitely be spotted. It’s a burner anyway, but it could have trace evidence on it. If they link this to you, it won’t go well. Burn it all. No trace. He knew what he was getting himself into. He volunteered after hearing about you and the were-dragons a few months ago. As did the others.”
“Others?” I asked softly.
“I have some friends waiting for us at the safe-house. They have a few tools for us, but then their contract is up. Unless you have another $20,000 to pay them.”
I blinked, not turning away from the dead man. I didn’t realize I was such a celebrity with the supernatural mercenaries. “You paid them $20,000… to help me?” I asked softly, feeling both guilty and impressed. She nodded. “Using them over the next few days might not be a bad idea. I’ll write them a check.”
“Cash only.” She answered.
That made sense. “Oh. Okay. That shouldn’t be a prob…” Then I remembered that all my bank accounts were frozen and I scowled at life in general. “I guess we’re on our own then.” She shrugged. Knowing my power was dwindling, I agreed with her assessment of the evidence. I felt cold, deep inside my soul. This stranger who had helped me escape was dead. The money Othello had paid him wouldn’t ever be utilized. I didn’t even know the man’s name. I decided to honor the dead man by calling on the old Boatman. At least last respects would be served.
I summoned up a storm of fire and incinerated the vehicle without a single movement. Othello jumped back in surprise. “It still gets me when you do things like that. You didn’t even say anything. Or move. You used to have to do things like that to use your power.” I looked at her thoughtfully. She was right. I normally had to perform some kind of physical action to use some of my larger spells. But with the power spike from my parents’ deaths — transforming me into a Maker, as I now understood — I didn’t need any assistance for spells that used to be difficult for me. Of course, none of that would matter in three days when my power disappeared entirely. I called Charon with a whisper.
The boatman hesitated when he saw me, sniffing the air. I frowned. The Boatman had never done that before. Maybe my Demon cologne wasn’t entirely gone. Or maybe Sir Dreadsalot’s smell filled the street. But the Boatman departed with his usual acceptance of the man’s soul and a final wave of gratitude, sailing off into the curtain of falling snow before disappearing.
Othello waved back. I didn’t. I turned us away and began to shamble down the street, letting Othello know it was time for us to leave. A voice called out behind me. “That was a crime.” I froze. Othello jerked to the right, raising her nanobot gun. I turned slowly, and then held out my hand for Othello to stand down. She frowned at me, but complied. I scowled at Gavin, my parole officer.
“How long have you been watching me? I could have used some damn help.”
Gavin watched me, looking angry. “It seems like plenty of damned people were here already.” He spat. I frowned, and then understood that he was referring to the Demon as a damned Angel. A Fallen Angel.
“Why didn’t you help?” I demanded voice raspy with barely bottled anger.
“It is not my job to help you. It is my job to prevent you from performing any more crimes. Which you just did. Also, you seem to be out of jail, where you rightfully belong. I should deliver you back to them.” He looked conflicted. “It would be the right thing to do.”
I blinked back at him in disbelief. “The right thing to do? Arresting the only person who seems to give a shit about Demons running around my city, slaughtering innocents, and raising hell? That sounds like the right thing to do? You’re one twisted bastard, you know that?” I spat back in disgust.
Gavin took an aggressive step forward. “Don’t tempt me. I could justifiably end you. Right here, right now.”
“Tempt you?” I snarled, quivering in disbelief. “I just fought a Demon in the middle of the street and you sat there and watched. Even the Regular jumped in to help me. What the hell is wrong with you? Are you honestly delusional enough to think you are wearing the White Hat here? The Academy has fallen a long way if that’s the case. You guys are completely brainwashed if the right and wrong side of this situation is confusing to you. I used to be proud to be a member of the Academy. But your actions disgust me.”
Gavin stared at me, trembling with rage and… doubt. In himself? But it didn’t last long. He was back to his arrogant self a second later. “There were no innocents here to defend. Only a criminal and his sidekick.” He argued.
“Now wait a damn minute. I am no sidekick. I just took out a Demon!” She hissed indignantly.
Othello was pissed. I looked from Gavin to her then shrugged. “Well, he has a point. It’s kind of what sidekick’s do. Save the day when the real superhero is down.”
She slowly turned her fiery eyes to me and I took a step back in case she had any more ammunition for her metallic death-eating minion launcher. I turned back to Gavin. “Regardless, you were a disgrace. After seeing me fight a Demon, I am pretty sure you can safely deduce that I’m not working with them. I nearly died trying to keep him from getting the Armory. And my power is fading. Fast. What the fuck more do you want from me?”
Blood Debts (The Temple Chronicles Book 2) Page 17
