Spellbound gc-2

by Larry Correia

  Even with all her Power, Faye didn’t know what she could do against this thing. Hot smoke was pouring through thousands of wounds. She knew that she could tear up bits of the creature and Travel them away, but it was so very strong that it would take hours before she could break it down, if that would even work since it seemed to be growing so quickly, absorbing matter from this world to feed its body. And she knew it wasn’t stupid. It would find a way to adapt against her attacks. She needed to destroy the demon quickly or not at all.

  Her head map said that the god of demons was a shell. Inside was ink, smoke, and evil. There was no heart to stop, no lungs to pierce, no brain to destroy. They were poking holes in it, but it simply fixed itself and moved on. Faye’s mind was quick, quicker than anyone else that she’d ever met, but she didn’t have time to figure this problem out before the Lexington would be torn from the sky. She needed to buy time.

  Faye spied one of the wings and that gave her an idea.

  Where the wing intersected with the body, it was only as big around as a stout tree. Traveling directly to the base, Faye picked a hot gash in the unnatural flesh and drove her hand deep inside. It burned. The airship was only a few hundred yards away and the body beneath her seemed to swell as the demon sucked in oxygen, ignited it, and prepared to spray deadly fire across the Lexington. Faye concentrated on the base of the wing, gathered up a harsh burst of magic, and Traveled away with as much mass as she could tear free.

  She did not need to go far. Appearing in the air, Faye yanked her injured hand away from the thousands of pounds of unnatural flesh she’d ripped from the demon’s hide. One wing tore away, and, surprised, the god began to fall. Fire that had been meant for the airship escaped, boiling out the hole toward her.

  Calm, Faye faced the fire. Her head map expanded outward, heedless of the fact she was falling, clothes and hair whipping hard against her frame, and she searched for another weapon. She found what she was looking for one quarter of a second before the flames would have incinerated her.

  Faye hit the grass too hard. She’d been in the air just long enough to build up some speed. The truck that Francis had intercepted was parked before her. The back was absolutely packed with barrels of explosives, and it was a very big truck. Behind her, the demon was spiraling toward the ground. Even from here it was making a noise like a broken kite fluttering. Her head map showed her where it was going to hit, how fast it was going to be moving, and she was already running the calculations as she Traveled into the bed of the truck.

  There was a single black cord that was tied into a bunch of other black lines, and those were spread to all of the other barrels. It was cannon fuse. There was quite a bit, since the OCI men who were meant to set it weren’t suicidal. She tore most of the fuse away, just leaving a short stub.

  Faye pulled her matchbook from her pocket, struck one on a barrel, and held it to the end of the coarse black line. It caught fire with a sizzle, burning rapidly, sputtering toward the flash point.

  Even a mile away, the demon’s landing was so hard that it shook the truck springs. Her head map told her that it had created a crater in the city, but even that wouldn’t be enough to stop it. She needed to release all of the demon’s smoke at once.

  The truck was heavy, but she’d done heavier… though that single time had been physically too much, and had knocked her out and nearly killed her. This wasn’t even near that far, but Faye was going to do something very difficult. She was going to Travel inside a demon.

  She had no idea if she would be able to make it back out.

  Gathering up her magic and placing her palms flat against the truck bed, she took in the entire thing and Traveled into the core of a god.

  It was so very dark.

  She was floating, not falling, not flying, merely hanging suspended in a void of infinite blackness. Pressure and heat touched her skin and alien feelings touched her mind. Faye let go of the truck, and-

  Nothing.

  You could not think it would be that easy.

  The demon’s quiet thoughts hit Faye in the face. Frantic, she tried to escape, but she was trapped, encircled by the demon. Her head map was only a single spark of light in an ocean of smoke.

  You are mine.

  The cannon fuse ceased to burn. The demon had extinguished the fire.

  I will take your Power and make it my own.

  She couldn’t even scream, because to do so would mean opening her mouth and breathing in the alien smoke, but Faye was furious. This stupid demon thought it was so clever. Well, she’d show it.

  Faye reached deep inside, gathering up all of her Power, and then she pulled harder, gathering up all the Power she’d stolen from the hundreds that had died that night, but rather than throwing it all at once like she’d done with the Tempest, she focused it as tight and hard and mean as she could. The spark of her head map grew into a beam, bright and straight as a Tesla ray. It pierced the darkness, and Faye saw her way out.

  The demon screeched in agony. How dare you deny me!

  But it wasn’t enough to escape. She’d come to win.

  Only seconds had passed inside the gullet of the demon. If she stayed here long enough to light another match, which instinct told her wouldn’t work anyway, she would surely die. She needed to do something else and she needed to do it fast.

  The blinding beam of her head map pushed outward, toward the Power itself, and she looked and beheld that bit that she’d temporarily stolen-Whisper’s sacrifice. Faye grabbed hold of that bit of Power, pulled it toward her, and…

  All of the bomb fuses burst to life with a cleansing fire.

  Thanks, Whisper.

  And Faye stepped into the night.

  The god of demons rose from the hole it had made on the Washington Mall, surveyed its new kingdom, and roared defiantly. The impact and the loss of one wing had cost it much precious mass, but it was growing again, and would continue to do so, until it devoured all who dared threaten it.

  The sound coming from the demon wasn’t in any language they could comprehend, but Sullivan understood the meaning anyway. Run, mortals. Run, and hide, because I’m coming for you.

  Jake Sullivan was being supported by Dan Garrett on one side and John Browning on the other. Sullivan was so weak he could barely stand. He’d fully expected to die when he’d activated the shield spell. It was only that last spell he’d managed to carve and bind to himself months ago, the one based on the geometry of the Gravity Spiker, that had given him the energy sufficient to fuel the demon shield. But the shield spell was wearing off. They were retreating along with the bedraggled crowd. Soldier, marcher, Active, it didn’t matter, now they were all just trying to get away, same as everyone else. The troops that had arrived to protect the Capitol had burned through their meager allotment of ammunition. The Grimnoir were beat, and he had no idea where the others had wound up.

  Two familiar figures pushed their way through the mob. Lance Talon was covered in ash and limping worse than usual, while it looked like Iron Guard Toru had been set on fire at some point. His shirt was gone and the Imperium healing kanji were glowing bright on his skin. One advantage of his terrifying appearance was that the evacuees gave him a wide berth. Toru asked, “Status?”

  “We lost,” Sullivan muttered.

  “We gave the city time to begin an evacuation,” Browning said. “That is worth something.”

  Sullivan didn’t care for losing. “We have to think of something else.”

  “Anybody seen what Faye’s up to?” Lance asked.

  “Why? Do you need her to help you escape?” Toru asked coldly.

  “Your Chairman underestimated her once, too. Look where that got him.”

  Toru’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.

  “Faye’s the strongest Active we’ve got left,” Sullivan said. “If I draw that spell again, and she uses her Power on it, maybe we can trap the demon inside for a while.” It was a desperate idea, but it was all that he could come up with
besides running away, and he didn’t like running away any more than he liked losing.

  The roaring and crashing of the demon had been so continuous that its sudden silence froze them all in their tracks. They all turned to look at the now quiet beast. It had stopped mid-rampage, through another of the great marble buildings. Struggling human figures were clutched in its hands, and it had been interrupted before it could shove them into its mouths. The four cavernous eyes narrowed. If something so hideously ugly could be said to have an expression, Sullivan would’ve had to guess that it seemed puzzled.

  Then it exploded.

  The demon seemed to stretch, bulging like an overinflated tire, and then it simply erupted into a million pieces. Animated flesh was sprayed in every direction, much of it dissipating before it hit the ground. Thousands of gallons of demon ink spilled, like a dam had burst, and it rushed across the ruined Mall, washing the stragglers away, collecting in the craters, and pouring down the cracks.

  “I think we found Faye.” Lance said. “Told you.”

  The body was destroyed, its spirit banished. The Mall had been transformed into a scene from Hell. Everything was black, either from ash or ink. A pile of dissolving meat was spread over acres. Burning trees and spotlights from the Lexington provided just enough light to see the carnage. The air was choked with a stinking toxic haze. A thick plume of smoke stretched upward until it disappeared into the night sky.

  The mob had stopped, staring in shocked disbelief at the destruction. Then there arose a ragged cheer. It was the sound of thousands, thankful to live another day. Sullivan knew from experience that after the elation passed, then there would be the anger and grief over the ones that hadn’t been so lucky.

  Dan studied the ragged crowd. He was thinking the same thing. “Let’s get out of here before they recall what brought them here in the first place…”

  Chapter 23

  Dearest Devika. Much time has passed since I have written. I have been consumed by my work. I write this letter in a brief moment of lucidity. I do not know how many more I will have, as they are becoming fewer by the day. Do not let my sons listen to the rumors of what I have become. The rumors are true but they must never know of the evil created by my hand. I was blinded by pride. One does not steal from the Power without paying a price. It is more intelligent than I suspected and it is learning. Though I thought I was using it, I was truly the one being used. Human emotions are not sufficient to describe the Power, but it was not upset when it discovered my theft. My resourcefulness gave it hope. The Power tried to prepare me for a task, but I was unworthy of its gifts. I have failed the test. Now all that remains is the hunger.

  — Anand Sivaram, Personal correspondence, never posted, discovered in Paris, France, 1918

  Arlington, Virginia

  Francis woke up groggy. He was in a small, plain room, completely empty of furnishings except for a wool blanket somebody had wrapped him in. There was no window covering, and from the fuzzy light, he guessed it was just before sunrise. The house was quiet as he took in the humble surroundings. It was a hell of a lot better than a prison cell.

  The last thing he remembered was getting shot several times while trying to reach the OCI truck. Everything after that was a blur. Since he was alive, and it didn’t feel like there were any extra holes in him, he could safely assume that he’d gotten to a Healer somehow. Sitting up took some effort. Being Mended would keep you alive, but the soreness had a way of lingering.

  “Francis?”

  It hurt to turn his head. “Faye?” She had appeared in the middle of the room. Her sudden arrivals no longer startled him like they used to. He started to ask her what had happened, but then he saw the terrible state she was in. Clothing tattered, splattered in dried blood and ink, with scratches on her face, and a hand that was blistered and red, Faye just stood there, wobbling like she was about to collapse. “Faye!” Francis heaved himself to his feet, tossed aside the blanket, and went to her. He caught her as she fell into his arms and gently lowered her to the floor. He brushed the matted hair away from her face. “What’s wrong?”

  She pulled his head down and kissed him on the lips. The intensity surprised him. When she finally let go, Faye gave him the saddest smile he’d ever seen on her face. “Nothing’s wrong now.”

  When Francis woke up again, strong daylight was beaming through the windows. Hours had passed. The air smelled like smoke and he didn’t know why. Voices could be heard outside. Browning was giving orders. It sounded like it was time to clear out.

  He rolled over and reached out, but the blanket was empty. Faye was gone. Not surprising, considering her seemingly boundless energy, she had probably Traveled away to go do something useful or heroic. That was simply how she was, and he loved her for it. Her absence made him sad, but it was good in one way, because things had just become a lot more complicated between the two of them and it would be nice to at least have a chance to think things over before she popped back in.

  What was there to think about though? This was Faye… She was a force of nature. Francis knew that he was a handsome, talented, sought-after bachelor-not to mention incredibly rich-but here he was.. wondering what she saw in him. Funny how things work out sometimes.

  His fingers brushed against a piece of paper so he dragged it over. Still flat on his back, he unfolded the note. Faye’s handwriting was horrible, but reading and writing had never been very important in her life before the Grimnoir, so it was to be expected.

  Dear Francis I am real sorry. I have to go away for a while. I learned some things about how come my magic is different from everybody else. There is a curse on me and I do not want to become a monster. I got to figure out what to do about it. There is someone I have to find. Please do not look for me. It is better this way. Some of the elders were so scared of what I am that they sent Whisper to kill me. From what I know now they were probably right to. But Whisper died to help me instead. She was very brave. I made her a promise so now I have to figure out how to keep it. Please do not tell the others that I am alive. It is safer that way. When I thought you were gone I wanted to die inside. I was so scared. No matter what happens I am glad that I found you. I come from nothing and you come from everything but I love you Francis and I want to marry you and be your wife. But first there are monsters outside and monsters inside and I have to figure out how to beat both kinds. More bad things are coming. I know it. And I have to be ready. I do not know how long I will be gone but I will be back. If I do not come back it is because I messed up and died. If I die I want you to go and be happy without me. So I need you to be brave for me.

  Love

  Faye

  There were soft spots on the paper that were still damp. Francis thought that they might have come from tears.

  The bag was removed from his head, revealing that they were in the kitchen of an average home. A large recording device had been set before him. The man who had removed the bag paused to turn on the audio recorder before taking a seat.

  The Coordinator of Information, Doctor Bradford Carr, found himself sitting across the table from two dangerous Actives. The Grimnoir had finally decided to interrogate him. Very well… He had nothing to hide, and wouldn’t have been able to hide anything from the likes of these anyway. He recognized both of them from the OCI files: Daniel Garrett, former radio celebrity and Mouth, and Pemberly Hammer, former asset of Mr. Crow, a Justice. One could convince him of anything and the other could detect any falsehood.

  “So, I take it you intend to make me talk and then murder me?”

  “No,” Garrett replied. “Though that would be rather easy. We’re recording this conversation to give to the Bureau of Investigation in order to clear the Grimnoir Society of any wrongdoing. Then you’re free to go. You have my word.”

  Carr laughed. “You take me for an imbecile?”

  “Not at all. We want the courts to deal with you publicly. It’ll be quite the scandal. The nation needs to know what you were up to. They need
to hear the truth. They won’t get that truth if we were to just bury you in a ditch, now would they?”

  He looked at the spinning wheels of the recording device with disdain. If the Grimnoir thought that would work, then they were bigger fools that he’d thought. No testimony coerced, nor evidence gathered, through magical means was admissible in any court of law. “Well, Mr. Garrett, Miss Hammer…” He was careful to state their names for the record, assuring that the tapes would be thrown out, because after all, how could he, a mere Normal man, resist the persuasions of mind-controlling Actives? He would simply say that he’d been forced to repeat whatever Garrett had wanted him to. “I would be completely unable to resist your magical persuasion anyway, so we may as well continue.”

  “Was the OCI involved with the attack on Franklin Roosevelt?”

  He did not sense any overt presence in his mind from the Mouth’s magic, but it was certainly there. “Yes.”

  “In what capacity?”

  It actually felt good to talk about it. “I had Giuseppe Zangara recruited for the task.”

  “And?” Hammer prodded.

  A half truth wasn’t much better than a lie to a Justice. “One of my men created a spell to augment Zangara’s natural Power and then we provided him with a Grimnoir ring.” Even if an investigator followed up on that, they would never be able to prove anything with Crow gone. “The purpose was to pin the crime on the Grimnoir Society.”

  “Why?” Garrett asked.

  “I needed an enemy for the people to unite against-an antagonist, if you will. And since you were the types that would stand in the way of magical registration anyway, I could eliminate-”